Introducing Miss Joanna (Once a Wallflower #2) - Maggi Andersen Page 0,11

Rivenstocks, Lady Montford proved to be a charming hostess. Pleased with her appearance, Jo was determined to enjoy herself. Either Mrs. Millet had done as she promised and zealously spread the news of Jo’s handsome dowry, or it was her beautiful ballgown that brought men to her to request an introduction.

Jo danced every dance. The ball was similar to the last, differing only in its superior décor. There were familiar faces among the guests and the evening progressed very much like the last.

Jo sat between dances, sipping lemonade when a girl in white muslin approached her with a friendly smile. She was unusually tall and slender, the feathers in the headdress adorning her fair hair stressing her height.

“Charlotte Graham, how do you do? I noticed you sitting alone, and as I have no one to talk to, I wondered if I might join you.”

Jo gestured to the seat beside her. “Please do, Miss Graham. Joanna Dalrymple.”

Charlotte took the spare seat beside Jo. “Call me Charlotte. Is this your first time in London? I haven’t seen you before. I’m sure I’d remember if I had.”

“Call me, Jo, please. I am new to London. Are you?”

“Good heavens, no. This is my third Season.”

“Oh.” Jo didn’t know quite what to say to that. She never imagined some girls would come Season after Season without finding a husband.

“It happens. I haven’t taken.” Charlotte smiled good-naturedly. “My grandfather insists I come every year, even though he’s of the opinion that I’m too tall to attract a husband. My dowry isn’t particularly large, either.”

“Do you enjoy coming to London?”

“I don’t mind. Our small Devonshire village is rather dull. The worst thing is I make friends among the debutantes but see little of them after they marry.” She eyed Jo appreciatively. “You won’t be sitting here like a wallflower for long. A gentleman will snap you up.”

“A wallflower?”

“That’s what we call ourselves.” Charlotte shrugged. “I made a good friend last Season. Miss Anabel Riley. But she disappeared from London.”

“Did she get married?”

Charlotte shrugged. “No one seems to know what happened to Anabel. She was an orphan, here with an aged aunt who has since died. Some say she eloped, but I don’t believe it. Anabel never mentioned a beau.”

Charlotte stood as the Master of Ceremonies announced the next dance. “I’d best return to Mrs. Lincoln. That’s my chaperone. I’ve enjoyed talking with you.”

Jo smiled. “I hope we meet again.”

“We will,” Charlotte said. “I’ll look out for you.”

Charlotte’s feather headdress could be seen above many heads as she moved through the crowd. Jo hoped they could be friends. A gentleman came to claim the dance she had agreed to earlier. As he led her onto the dance floor, she wondered what had happened to Anabel Riley. Perhaps her family came and took her away. But no, Charlotte had said she was an orphan.

Jo enjoyed the evening but didn’t go into raptures about the ball when her father questioned her on their way home. The dark-haired gentleman friend of the Cartwrights had not appeared. She wondered if she would ever see him again. Surely it shouldn’t matter whether or not she did. But it seemed to matter a great deal.

Her father declared the Season to be a splendid success. “As I knew it would be.” He gazed fondly at her.

“Did you especially like any of the gentlemen, Jo?” Aunt Mary asked.

“Not really, Aunt.” Jo supposed she was used to country folk, who were plain speaking.

Some of her dance partners used an oddly affected manner of speech. One gentleman had ridiculously padded shoulders, and another older one creaked mysteriously as he led her through the steps of the quadrille, and was so heavily perfumed, she wished to hold her nose. Some of her dance partners barely spoke, so Jo was hard-pressed to think of an appropriate topic of conversation, while others talked about themselves, their last successful hunt, the acquisition of a curricle, one gentleman went into raptures about his tailor. None showed any genuine interest in her. “I made another friend, Miss Charlotte Graham, Papa. I hope to meet her again.”

“I’m so pleased for you, Jo,” Aunt Mary said, wearily.

“That’s nice, Jo,” her father said. “I hoped you might meet some fellow…well…it’s early days.”

Might he want to go home? He expressed some concern about Sooty, although their dog was enjoying a holiday on a farm. Perhaps London wasn’t her father’s cup of tea.

As she drank her chocolate in bed the following morning, Jo went over the previous evening. She