Once Upon a Time in Bath (The Brides of Bath #7) - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,45
for a final dancing lesson before the next assembly. She had looked forward to dancing skillfully in one of her beautiful new dresses with the handsome peer to whom she was betrothed.
But gloom filled her heart as well as the chamber in which they practiced their dance steps. She’d had a wretched night. Sleep eluded her as she tortured herself imagining Forrester in the arms of his mistress.
She wondered if Mrs. Surname Beginning with P was beautiful. How long had the woman been under Forrester’s protection? Was he in love with her? Had he offered for Dot merely to secure her fortune?
This was the first time since Dot had come to Bath that she regretted having left her home in Lincolnshire. For if she had stayed at Blandings, she would not be suffering like this. She and her kitties would have slept soundly in her bed without a care in the world.
“I sincerely hope, Miss Pankhurst, that you will be merrier at the next assembly,” Mr. Gibby said as she moped along an imaginary longway with him.
“Don’t know what’s gotten into my gal,” Mr. Pankhurst said. “Any other young lady who’d just become betrothed to the best matrimonial prize in all of Bath and who was wearing such fashionable attire—not to mention having been instructed in dance by the city’s finest dancing master—would be looking forward with delight to Tuesday’s assembly. You do know, do you not, Mr. Gibby, that my daughter is betrothed to Lord Appleton?”
“Indeed I had heard, and I cannot convey what an honor it is to have the future Lady Appleton as my patron.” He shrugged. “Perhaps Miss Pankhurst’s reticence is merely because she’s shy. This will be your first assembly, yes?”
She shook her head. “Second, actually, though I was not really at liberty to dance at the first.”
“Now you will be as accomplished a dancer as any young lady in the highest social circles in all of Bath,” Mr. Gibby said. “Even in London, I daresay.”
She should be comforted by his praise, but it wasn’t as if she were worried about her reception at Tuesday night’s assembly. Whether strangers thought well of her mattered little. What mattered to her was Forrester’s feelings—especially toward his purported mistress.
At some point before they married she would have to bring up the subject of his mistress because she could never countenance an unfaithful husband. Even if it meant she would have to break the engagement.
The time for such a conversation, though, was not now. She wasn’t sure if Forrester had even become comfortable with the notion of being married. It was harder for men, especially men who were thirty years of age, to easily adjust to such a complete change in their lives. It would take time.
For the last few minutes of her lesson, she forced a smile simply to please her patient dance master and her indulgent father.
After Mr. Gibby left she reminded her father that he must accompany her Tuesday night. “I should love to see you dance with Mrs. Blankenship.”
He perked up. “Will she be attending?”
“I’m not precisely sure, but think how disappointed you’d be if you didn’t go and you found out the next day that she went and you weren’t there. I believe she’d be very disappointed, too.”
“Do you really think so?” he asked.
“Indeed I do.”
* * *
“Should we again take your coach to Lower Richard Street?” Dot asked Appleton late that following afternoon.
He was unable to suppress a smile as he stood there observing her. She held one of those cats of hers in the most adoring manner. He couldn’t say which one it was. The only one he knew was that annoying orange male cat whose name he refused to repeat.
It was as if thinking about the wretched creature signaled him to come and rub himself against Appleton’s leg.
He ignored it.
Over these past two weeks Appleton had come to understand a good bit about the workings of Dot’s mind. “Knowing you, my dear one, you’ve analyzed this and have a mental list of reasons for and against taking my coach.”
She giggled. “That is true. If we arrive in your aristocratic coach, it will draw attention from those on the modest street who are not accustomed to seeing a carriage of the nobility calling upon their neighbors. Because of that, I believe it may be easier for us to find residents who will be willing to talk to some fancy lord.”