Miss Simpkins' School: Lydia by Raven McAllan Read Free Book Online

Chapter One
    Miss Lydia Frampton did her best to ignore the muttered epithet her dance partner failed to hold back, and tried to stem the blush she knew covered her face. When would any partner realize she could concentrate on her steps or her conversation, but never both at the same time? Or perceive that my lack of concentration is due to a lack of interest? For that matter, when would her mama give in and let her miss these excruciating evenings? So often Lydia spent the evening as a wallflower trying to look as if she didn’t care that the gentlemen only danced with her if pressed to do so by their hostess. Like her partner of that moment. It was obvious he’d had no intention of requesting the pleasure—or she decided as she looked the anguish on his face, the non-pleasure—of her as his partner. The problem was, if she was honest, she only cared about being a wallflower because it drew the wrath of her ambitious parent. Tonight, however, she was partnered. If the Countess of Helford decided you would dance with a wallflower, dance you did.
    To give him credit, Ferdy Littlethorpe schooled his expression and fixed a vacuous smile on his face. He bowed as the music ended, but couldn’t hide his relief. No doubt he hoped his poor feet would never be maligned thus again.
    “That’s it, my lord. You’re now off the hook with regards to me this evening. I hope your feet recover, but as I say every time, I dance or I converse. I don’t do both.” Lydia smiled at his embarrassment, curtsied, and hurried back to where her mama sat chatting to her cronies.
    As far as she was concerned she was off the hook as well. Laeticia Helford had done her duty, and would hopefully go and bother two other people and leave Lydia, and any eligible gentlemen’s feet, in peace. Lydia’s mother broke off her conversation with her bosom bow, and frowned as Lydia made a hurried curtsey to encompass both ladies.
    “Good evening, Lady Sumpter. May I say how fetching your cap is?” Lydia, who was very fond of the lady, had a fine line in compliments, deserved or not. They got her out of many a tight corner.
    Lady Sumpter touched the said cap, which Lydia actually thought was horrendous and smiled. “Dear child, you lie in such an engaging and wholly wide-eyed innocent manner. It is an abomination, but sadly at my age it’s needed. So I thank you for, shall we say, bending the truth somewhat.” She patted Lydia’s cheek in the manner of one who had known Lydia from when she was a squalling baby in a bassinet.
    Lydia smiled; there was no answer to that. She turned to her parent. “Mama, Tilly is waving. May I go to the withdrawing room, and then get some lemonade with her?” She had no idea if Tilly had waved, but was pretty sure she’d be willing to run interference for her. That was what friends did.
    Lady Frampton frowned until she saw Lady Sumpter’s gaze on her, and changed it to a cough and a wave of her hand. “Of course dearest, but do tidy your hair whilst you’re there. It’s escaping its pins once more.” She sighed and Lydia echoed it. Her straight as a die honey-blonde hair was the bane of her life. No number of curling papers ever did more than put the slightest wave in it. Her mother took her acquiescence as given and continued with her directions. “Run along then. I’m sure you want to tell her all about Lord Stokoe and his mama’s gracious invitation. Don’t forget you’re promised to his lordship for supper.”
    As if she could. Her mama had crowed about it ever since the request had been proffered, by note no less, along with a wrist corsage. Lydia had conveniently left the flowers in the coach. Why did it feel as if he was mocking her?
    “Christmas you know,” Lydia heard Cordelia Frampton tell a somewhat unimpressed Honoria Sumpter, who knew of Lady Frampton’s machinations. “Jane Stokoe simply wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
    More likely worn down by Mama’s unsubtle hints. How do I cope for