Chapter Fifteen - The Trowbridge Ball

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Lady Whistledown's

SOCIETY PAPERS

In a town filled with ambitious mamas and fortune-hunting gentlemen, marrying above one's station is an art form, indeed. But Miss Daphne Bridgerton's advance from future Duchess to possible Princess is an achievement that even this jaded author must applaud.

Though this author cannot dismiss the Duke of Hastings quite so soon. He may have let the diamond slip through his fingers for now, but I shall wager he is not a man to ever hide from a fight.

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"Come on then... I simply must show you my needlework," Philippa says, grabbing my arm and pulling me up the stairs toward the drawing room.

"Please, as if it has gotten any better since she last saw it," Prudence grumbled, racing after us.

As we walked closer to the doors of the drawing room, Lady Featherington's voice got louder, her words, however, continued to stay rather muffled. Prudence and Philippa turn into the room first, before being shoved backward by Marina who rushed out of the room with a look of contempt all over her face.

"She pushed me!" Philippa said, scoffing.

"No, she pushed me," Prudence countered, hitting her sister on the arm.

"Hush, both of you!" Lady Featherington exclaimed, "My nerves!"

I pause, internally debating on whether or not to go into the room before eventually stepping in and curtsying towards Lord Featherington.

"Lord Featherington... Lady Featherinton..." I greet, "it is always a pleasure to be invited to your... lovely home."

Lord Featherington hummed at my presence, ruffling his newspaper as he continued to read.

From beside the couch, Lady Featherinton offered me a strained smile before turning towards her husband, lowering her voice, and stepping closer to him "Kindly remind me, my Lord, why we cannot simply send Miss Thompson back to her father in the country?"

"The matter is not for discussion," Lord Featherington says simply, looking towards his wife.

"A gentleman caller." A footman announced, stepping into the room and bowing his head slightly towards Lord Featherington. "Mr. Albion Finch."

Prudence and Philippa sighed before picking themselves up from their spots on the couch, the defeat clear on their face as they anticipated for the caller to ask for Marina.

Mr Finch walked into the room with a light-minded, but still somehow charming, smile and a bouquet of, which I guess to be daisies, in his hand.

"Good day," he greets, smiling around the room before unexpectedly sneezingly.

He chuckled as he motioned towards the flowers, "daisies always trouble my nose."

"Miss Thompson is not receiving visitors, Mr Finch," Lady Featherington says, walking over towards the couch with a tired expression.

"That is quite alright," he assured, "I am here to call on Miss Featherington."

He nods his head towards Philippa, whose eyes widen as she slowly turns to look at Mr Finch.

It seemed as though Lady Featherington was just as surprised as Philippa was because she too stared at the man in wonder.

"Miss Philippa Featherington?" She asks breathlessly, her brows raising so far up on her face that it seemed as though they may disappear behind her flaming red hair.

He chuckled nervously, nodding his head towards her before shifting his gaze towards Philippa, who now had a wide smile growing across her face. She quickly stood up and made her way towards Mr Finch, falling into a polite curtsy when she reached him before standing up and taking the flower from him.

"Thank you, sir," she says, beaming at him as her mother chuckled in excitement behind her.

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As we all know, there is nothing this author loves more than a scandal, and tonight's soiree promises more than its fair share, courtesy of the recently widowed Lady Trowbridge.

Some may call her celebrations too provocative, and I would caution any young lady from getting caught up in the sensual nature of her fêtes. For one scandalous move between an unwed couple, a wayward touch, or heaven forbid, a kiss, would vanish any young lady from society in a trail of ruin.

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"Do you know when papa will be back from his trip?" I ask, turning towards mama with a curious glance, "he has missed quite a lot."

"I'm sure it will not be long now, my dear," Mama assured, "ah! Lady Cowper, how lovely to see you this evening."

Suddenly, my attention is drawn away from the appearance of Lady Cowper by a familiar-sounding sneeze.

Turning my gaze away from the impending conversation, I look over towards the source of the sound and watch as the Featherington's walk further into the room, Mr Finch appearing through the crowd and beginning to walk towards them.

"Mr Finch," Philippa greets, rushing towards him with a worried gaze.

"Pardon me, Miss Featherington," Mr Finch announces, "oh! What a delectable frock! Almost the exact shade of double Gloucester your mother served at tea this afternoon. I so love cheese."

Philippa stuttered for a moment, nodding up at him with wide eyes. "A- as do I... Mr Finch. Th- though I must say, I do prefer a Stilton to a cheddar."

Mr Finch nods in agreement before offering Philippa his hand and pulling her in the direction of the dance floor.

"-and Florence! How has your courtship with the Duke gone?" Lady Cowper asks, turning her gaze to me.

"Wh- oh, um... well, I suppose..." I sputtered out, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Florence is being kind," Mama chuckles, "the Duke invited the both of us to the palace this morning! Oh, Araminta, it was wonderful!"

Lady Cowper hums, gasping slightly as she looks over mama's shoulder. "Lady Featherington! Do join us!"

"Oh, Florence, why don't you go and find Cressida?" Mama offers, waving me off.

"Oh, yes, my Cressida has been asking about you," Lady Cowper muses, "she was near the entrance when I last saw her, not too long ago... oh! There she is!"

Lady Cowper points me in the right direction before quickly being swept up into a conversation with mama and Lady Featherington, their polite chuckles filling the space around them.

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"Oh, come on, Flore!" Cressida says, pulling me behind me.

She had just appeared off of the dance floor following her dance with Lord Wetherby, and was practically jumping up and down as she led me through the crowds.

"Daphne!" Cressida calls, smiling towards Daphne as she comes to a stop in front of the girl, glancing at her dress for a moment. "You look beautiful, as always."

"Thank you, Cressida," Daphne replies stiffly.

"Hello, Daphne. It is wonderful to see you again!" I greet, offering her a wave.

"It is good to see you too, Florence," Daphne says, smiling warmly at me before turning to glance at Cressida once more.

The three of us fall silent, watching as couples constantly join and exit the dance floor, the mixed sound of the music, laughing, and drinks clinking together, filling the air.

"You could have chosen anyone," Cressida says, glancing over at Daphne with a sad look. "You have gentlemen lined up to pay you tribute. Yet you did not hesitate to steal my chance for happiness away, did you?"

Daphne turns to look at her, an unknown feeling hiding away behind her eyes before she sighs and glances back towards the filled dance floor.

"I knew the marriage market would make rivals of us," Cressida continued, "but I never thought you capable of being my enemy."

"The man made his choice, Cressida," Daphne snaps, looking at her with wide eyes. "What did you expect me to do?"

She turns back around once more, a small smile coming across her face when she meets the Prince's gaze. Paying us no more mind, she starts off towards him, leaving a shocked and embarrassed Cressida behind.

"I'm sure that there are other men-"

"Just stop, Flore," Cressida snaps, sighing before shaking her head and rushing off into the crowd.

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"Philippa," Lady Featherington exclaims, "should you not be on the dance floor with Mr Finch?"

Philippa lets out a strained sob as a tear runs down her face, causing Lady Featherington to quickly pull her and Prudence away from the married ladies.

"I do hope that it has nothing to do with Lord Featherington's nasty... habit," Mama whispers, taking a sip of her drink as she watches Philippa sob to her mother, who quickly storms off after her husband. "I've heard that it can have rather nasty consequences..."

Lady Trowbridge nods her head as she glances back towards Lord Featherington, "I've heard a little rumor that his unfortunate... habits have been causing him to lose quite a bit of money."

All the Ladies nod their heads and subtly glance toward the Featheringtons before Lady Trowbridge chuckles lightly and takes a sip of her drink. "Of course... those are only rumors."

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"Your Highness! What a surprise to see you here tonight," I joke, smiling up at Fredrich pleasantly as we dance with each other.

I had spun into him as a part of the dance, allowing for young unmatched debutantes to meet other suitors while still enjoying the ball.

"Ah, yes," he replies, smiling down at me, "what a surprise indeed-"

Before he can continue, however, I am quickly spun away and into another suitor for a few more moments before being spun around again. Eventually, the dance ended with every debutante dancing with every man on the dance floor, even if it was only for a brief moment.

Just as I was about to partake in another dance, Cressida appears out of nowhere and pulls me to the side, "I cannot believe that Daphne is dancing with the Prince... it is like she would like to rub her victory in my face."

"I am sure that she does not mean that," I assure, looking up at her breathlessly. "You should partake in another dance... they are rather fun-"

Cressida scoffs and quickly throws herself into a conversation with a few of the girls that were around us.

I sigh, shaking my head before turning into the conversation, adding in a few words every now and then before deciding to glance around the room.

"Miss Bridgerton, are you yet engaged?" Prudence asks, leaning over and watching as Daphne passes her.

"You must set me up with one of those brothers I hear the Prince has," another debutante says, offering Daphne a smile when she notices her come near.

"But, anyway, I told Lord W-" Cressida's story is suddenly cut off by her unexpectedly being shoved into one of the girls in our group by Daphne, who was looking rather flustered.

"Do watch where you are flying, angel," Cressida huffs, looking her up and down in contempt.

Daphne doesn't bother- or isn't able- to muster up a witty response, because she looks around the room nervously before rushing out of the doors towards the garden.

Cressida watches her leave, pondering something for a moment before grabbing my hand and pulling me towards another exit, this time for one of the balconies.

"Cress, where are we going?" I ask, looking around the view in wonder. "Oh, look! There are birds over there! Do the Trowbridge's keep birds?"

"With their taste... I'm quite certain that they would keep them," Cressida whispers back, looking out towards one part of the garden with interest.

"BASTARD!"

My head swiveled away from the bird, which had flown closer towards the loud house, and towards the maze, where Cressida was looking with a grin.

"My goodness, whatever is going on?" I ask, rushing over towards her in hope that she had a better look.

"Nothing... just a quarrel between old friends," Cressida assures, "come along... from the wave of squeals I heard from inside, I do believe that your Duke has just arrived to the ball, Flore."

She starts inside and quickly begins to disappear within the dense crowds of people.

I, not one to like being left alone, especially outside on a dimly lit balcony, rush in after her. "He is not 'my Duke', Cress!"

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-T