"TELL ME IS THERE A PROPER WAY TO ENCOURAGE ONES AFFECTION?"
"DANCING, MY LORD. OR DO YOU FIND THAT DETESTABLE TOO?"
IN WHICH THE VISCOUNT
FALLS FOR A MERCHANT'S
D A U G H T E R
BRIDGERTON S1-S2
A...
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PRESENTATIONS & PRESUMPTIONS
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Dearest Reader,
The time has come to place our bets on the upcoming social season.
Consider the household of the Baron Featherington. Three misses foisted upon the marriage market like sorrowful sows by their tasteless, tactless, mama.
Far better odds may exist in the household of the widowed Viscountess Bridgerton. A shockingly prolific family, noted for its bounty of perfectly handsome sons and perfectly beautiful daughters.
How very perfect indeed.
But there is one family that is yet to be spotted at the social season. Despite the elusiveness of Mr. and Mrs. Baxter's sudden disappearance after their eldest daughter's scandalous elopement with a writer, of all occupations, it seems that their family is determined to re-enter society with grace, having brought not only their successful son, but their two incredibly handsome daughters. If their coloring is anything like their mother's, then perhaps Miss Marjorie Baxter and Miss Augusta Baxter stand a chance among the grander debutantes of this season after all.
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"OH, IT'S BEAUTIFUL!" Marjorie called out as she untied the bonnet from her head, the footman helping her out of her carriage. The town house wasn't nearly as grand as their one in the country, but still it stood, pale green walls and white trim towering over her as her pink dress swept against the cobblestone.
A soft blonde curl snuck free of her updo, bouncing across her forehead as she sprung forward, a wide smile stretching across her face. To look at the woman, you wouldn't have thought she had suffered a loss in the last year. Marjorie Baxter was all sunshine and smiles as she followed the staff into the foyer, the high ceilings and old chandeliers dusted off for their return. Paintings lined the parlor, although most of them were handed down from previous ancestors. Those who had once held a title. From Mama's line, Marjorie guessed.
With an excited gasp, she rushed to a small lectern in the hallway, her fingers gently running over the worn parchment that stood underneath the portrait of her grandmama and grandpapa.
