A Midsummer Night's Kiss (Howertys #1)

Chapter 3: Meet the Howertys

Dear Diary,
I have never had a true friend. Is that not sad?
Joan and I may have grown up together, but
I do not think anyone would call us friends.

I can do this. Angel stared at her reflection in the looking glass. They were about to leave for the Howertys' dinner and ball, and she couldn't quite swallow back the anxious energy that wanted to well up whenever she was about to be in a crowded room with people she barely knew. Years of her aunt and cousin commenting on her pale complexion did nothing to steady her nerves as she inspected her outfit for the fifth time. Not even her maid's reassurances that she looked splendid could silence her doubts.

Her maid had fashioned her hair in a simple style tied back in a loose bun, with a few soft tendrils framing her face. The dress was one of the few she had chosen herself. Made of white satin, with puff sleeves, and a pale-rose-coloured bodice, it complemented her fair skin rather than washed her out the way the colours her aunt usually chose for her always did. Not that she minded fading into the background. Sometimes it was rather comforting to be invisible. I can do this.

Taking a deep breath, she brushed a few non-existent specks of dust from one of her white, elbow-length gloves. This was her very first social event in London. She suspected it would be like nothing she had ever experienced before. Back in the country, her family did not attend any large gatherings. At most, they would visit other families in the area for a dinner or game night.

Tonight, she would attend a ball. A London ball. She would have to mingle with and speak to the fashionable people of the ton. Something that seemed a rather daunting prospect when you were shy and quiet. She could only hope she would not make a complete fool of herself by blurting out something foolish or insipid.

After a final, longing glance at her diary—writing was so much easier than speaking—she stepped out into the hallway and walked downstairs, where her brother waited for her.

"Angel, you look beautiful." He smiled and took her arm to escort her to their carriage. As he helped her into it and got a better look at her, a frown puckered his brow. "Is that dress not a little low-cut?"

She sat down on a seat in the carriage, running her hands down the skirt to smooth it over her legs. "No, it's actually quite modest for an evening dress."

Entering the vehicle, James sat down on the seat opposite hers. He was still scowling. "I suppose," he muttered. "Somehow, they seemed a lot less revealing when not worn by my sister."

His dour look made her smile. They had never spent much time together growing up as he was eight years her senior and had spent much of his time away at school, and later had kept his residence in London while she stayed with their aunt and uncle in the country. His sudden over-protectiveness was rather amusing. And maybe a little endearing.

"Fret not," she said with a teasing smile. "Most ladies will have gowns like mine. Or even more revealing. Logic says their brothers must struggle more than you."

James stared at her for a moment before letting out a surprised laugh. "I believe you just ruined my enjoyment of looking at ladies' decolletages. Now, all I can think of will be their long-suffering brothers."

It was a relief to see he did not mind her teasing. Her humour was rarely appreciated back home, and she had learnt to hold back most of her comments around her cousin, aunt, and uncle. But then, they probably preferred she speak nothing at all. The thought dampened her mood, and she leaned back against the carriage seat to look out at the passing streets.

"We're here," James said as the carriage pulled up in front of the Howertys' home shortly after.

A footman opened the carriage door, and James stepped out before turning back to assist Angel. Pensington House was a large, whitewashed house on York Street, close by the corner of St. James Square. Lights shone in every window, making her feel oddly welcome. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad.