The statement fell on deaf ears. The butler bowed himself out, leaving the door ajar such that a footman stationed in the hallway could eye them suspiciously. Lord Byrn fidgeted with his watch as they sat, his expression forced.
“What?” she whispered to him.
“I had hoped to catch the countess out. We’d have no problem otherwise. But if she is in the house…” His voice trailed away, and he looked chagrined.
“Is the woman difficult to charm?” Amber had already figured out that Lord Byrn’s charisma smoothed his way as much as his title.
“The worst,” he said with a funny groan. “She has heard too many pretty words in her life to enjoy any of them.”
“Oh, dear. What will you do?”
“Use not-so-pretty ones.” Then he shrugged. “But she’s mostly immune to those, too.”
And that was all they were able to say before an elderly woman dressed in the finest silks stepped into the room. She was announced not by the butler, but by a firm stomp of her cane and a piercing look.
“What is this about you and my portrait?” she demanded the moment she crossed the threshold. “You haven’t shown the least interest before now.”
Lord Byrn was on his feet, bowing over the countess’s hand and giving her a very charming smile. “What very fine looks you are in today. Have you changed your hair? I do believe it is more fetching than ever.”
“Yes, yes,” she said with impatience. “Whyever do you want to see my portrait?”
“It’s not for me, but for Miss Gohar, here. She has a particular fondness for the man’s work, and I have promised her a visit to see it. It won’t take but a moment—”
“Humph.” She looked sternly at Amber, who curtsied as gracefully as she could. She’d never had to do so before such an intimidating lady, but Mrs. Dove-Lyon had taught it to them all. It was part of the regular deportment class that all the girls were expected to attend.
“I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady,” she said.
“We’re not acquainted yet, now are we?” The dowager clomped over to her seat and settled in with Lord Byrn’s help. Then she gestured to Amber. “Sit down, gel. Tell me about yourself.”
Oh, dear. She had not planned a story with Lord Byrn. They’d talked of the weather, not of whatever he wished to say to the countess. Fortunately, she had spent much of her life daydreaming about who she would be back in Germany. Except the moment she opened her mouth, Lord Byrn rushed in to speak for her.
“Miss Gohar’s mother and mine are distant relations, and when we learned that she would be traveling to London, Mama insisted that they visit. And then I was naturally all too eager to help. So here we are, hoping that you will indulge us. I’ve planned a visit to the Royal Academy as well.” He ended with his charming smile again, though Amber could detect the strain in his features. It grew quite obvious as the countess stared at him. Eventually, he realized that she wasn’t speaking, and he ventured a question. “Countess? Will you indulge us?”
“I already am,” the woman retorted soundly. Then she turned to Amber and arched a brow. “I am waiting.”
“My lady, there isn’t much to tell,” she began. And again, Lord Byrn opened his mouth to interrupt. He wasn’t being rude, Amber realized. He really thought he was rescuing her.
“Countess, Miss Gohar is not used to—”
His words were cut off when she stomped her cane straight down upon his foot. To his credit, he didn’t cry out, but he did wince. And while he was recovering, the countess spoke.
“I do hate it when a man thinks a woman can’t speak for herself.”
Amber had to struggle not to laugh. As it was, she was sure her expression reflected her merriment, and that made the dowager smile.
“Pray, continue,” the woman ordered.
“I grew up in Berlin,” she said, steadily warming to her fantasy. “My family has a moldering old castle in the country, but we rarely go. My great, great grandfather was a younger son, you understand, so the land is not ours and the connection distant. But I did love seeing all the art hanging there when I was a child on holiday.”
“So, you live in the city?” the countess asked.
“We do. Papa is politically oriented, serving as secretary to…” She blew out a breath. “Well, it has changed recently as politics are wont to do. Mama helps him and, of course, looks after myself and my two younger sisters.”
“No sons?”
“Alas, no. We are girls sent to find husbands.”
“And so you are here? Visiting your mother’s old friend and hoping to join the society whirl?”
Of course. That had been the fantasy where she ended up dancing with the prince who was not the Prince Regent but someone much more impressive. “Lord Byrn and his family have been so kind.” But since she was not likely to enter the social whirl, she had to give an excuse as to why she would not be showing up at any balls. She leaned forward in a conspiratorial gesture. “May I tell you a secret, my lady?”
“A secret? Well, doesn’t that sound dramatic?”
It did, and the countess loved it. “I am not so good at large parties. We were not in society in Berlin, and I am…” She gave an embarrassed shrug. “I am shy among so many august personages.” She looked down at her sketchbook. “I am much more interested in London’s art.”
“My first ball was intimidating as well,” the countess said. “I was trained as a young girl how to dance and play the harp, but nothing prepared me for the sheer magnificence of it all. So many people all looking at me.”
Amber looked up, able to see it all in her mind. “I’ll wager you were the magnificent one.”
The countess harrumphed, but she was well pleased. “Of course, I was. My father made sure of it by commissioning the painting just before my presentation at court. Everything was done so that I was launched correctly. I caught the earl’s eyes that very evening.”
Amber smiled. “Did he dance with you?”
“Twice,” she said with a fond smile. “I would have danced a third time, but twice was scandalous enough. My mother would have none of it.”
“Oh, tell me everything,” Amber begged. She wanted to know everything from the earliest dance lesson, through the color of the gown, all the way to what music was played, and how each and every gentleman appeared. It was like a fantasy come to life, hearing it from the woman who had done it all. And though part of her had outgrown fairy tales, this was like looking at a childhood dream with entirely new eyes, from a lady who had lived it.
So after gentle pleading, the countess relayed her memories in gorgeous fashion. Tea was served and drank, but Amber barely cared. So beautiful was the recitation and so different from anything she had ever experienced in her life. All her daydreams had been of showing up in a lovely gown and dancing. Suddenly, she had details that had never occurred to her before. Hair and gown designs, ways to maneuver her fan, and even how to flirt while still appearing modest. These were things she’d never considered before, and the dowager countess dropped them freely in every sentence.
Until the lady was done. She was tired, it seemed, though her eyes were misty with memories. “Oh my, how you have gotten me talking.”