“Not at all,” I said. “Gwyneth is young as a rosebud, to be sure, but America, you have lost none of your attributes and that gown is exquisite on you.”
“Mother? I wish I could have a lower décolletage like hers.” Gwyneth plucked at the lace lining over plump little breasts tucked into a neckline as pink and frothing as the treasures it tried to hide. Constance had had a way with Gwyneth’s gown that followed my wishes and yet still did not detract from the young lady my Gwenny had become. “It makes me look flattened out as a boy, the way this fits.”
“When you are older.” I looked at my daughter, so charming in her gown, and too winsome with her pouting lower lip pushed out the way her mother’s had been wont to do. “Any man there who mistakes you for a boy would do well to cast himself into the sea for not only are his eyes useless but his reason is gone.”
August sighed as if he were a little bored with all her prattle, but to soothe her he said, “I brought only one dagger and a dirk. In the presence of your charms, dear girl, I feel unarmed against the threat of certain attack on your behalf. Perhaps I can find loan of a cutlass or use the andirons for a cudgel.”
“Uncle!” Gwyneth said, but she smiled behind her lace fan and asked me no more foolish questions.
Snow fell about us as we traveled. The house where the coach stopped was lit as if every chandler in the colony had made his year’s profit in providing candles for the one night. A handsome man in livery met us with a folding shade to keep the snow from our faces. I paused to glance at him as he passed my hand to another servant. His gentle accent when he asked to help us down gave me pause.
“Sir? I have lived here awhile but I call Jamaica in the West Indies my home. Do you know the place?”
“Beg your pardon, Mistress, I know nothing of what you speak.”
“Your accent reminds me of the people where I lived.”
“Forgive me, good lady.”
“Not at all. Sorry to have been mistaken.”
“Yes, madam. No mistake at all, I am sure. Good evening, Mistress,” he said, and bowed as if I were royalty.
I stopped on the steps of the house to watch him tuck the step into the coach before it drove away, as stiff and perfect as any. Lady Spencer had coachmen that she paid. This was Wallace and Serenity’s home, the one he had purchased when he’d asked me to marry him. That man was a slave.
America saw the look on my face and asked, “Is something amiss?”
“No, nothing. His voice reminded me of someone. Let us go in and introduce you both to society, my darlings. I wish your father were here to see you, Gwenny, although he would not approve of that neckline, far be it that you would want it lower.”
August extended his arm to me and the girls walked arm in arm until the footmen at the stairs took each of their hands. We made our way into the gaily done hall. The introductions were formal. The steps leading into the ballroom were dramatic, and placed just for the effect of making each guest seem as important as the last. When I handed the man the card with our names on it and he read it aloud, I watched Serenity’s face. Her mouth opened at her sister’s name and a small, unladylike squeal came from it. She swept America into her embrace, then kissed the air at America’s side curls on both sides of her face.
I found myself asked to dance by many of the men I had met at Lady Spencer’s dinner the previous month. After a couple of hours, Wallace himself asked me to dance. He was smooth in the steps and light-footed, so that I found myself following my own advice to my daughter, and was able to keep up. I had always felt I sensed rhythms well, but while this was more challenging because it was new, it was quite pleasant. When our last bow was taken, he took my hand and said, “My dear Resolute, dancing has brought a most becoming flush to your face.” He kissed my fingers, bowing over my hand. Then he leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Is it not interesting how private one can be in a room full of people? I have longed to see you again. These years have made you more ravishing than ever.”