What Happens in the Ballroom

Book 2: Designing Debutantes

by Sabrina Jeffries

Genres: Historical Fiction; Regency Romance

Synopsis

When members of the ton’s elite need to host a dazzling party, they call upon the planning services of Elegant Occasions—three young ladies who’ve put their talents for fashion, food, and music to excellent use. But while they excel in designing the perfect social event, love refuses to abide by any plan …
A young military widow, Eliza Pierce is enjoying both freedom and financial success as part of Elegant Occasions. When her late husband’s best friend, Nathaniel Stanton, the Earl of Foxstead, hires Elegant Occasions to help another young widow of an officer become part of high society, Eliza wonders why. Is the
woman a relative? Or is she the earl’s mistress and her adorable toddler his child?
If so, why does he take Eliza in his arms every chance he gets …
Foxstead’s family situation makes it difficult for him to marry, so his visceral attraction to his best friend’s widow is an unwelcome complication. Burdened by family secrets and those of his commanding officer, he’s determined to do his duty even when it means being around Eliza every day. But how can he resist
when the fetching Eliza keeps tempting him to break his own rules? For if he dares to expose the truth, will she ever forgive him? Or will she banish him from her life forever …

Release date: March 28, 2023

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

Nathaniel Stanton, the Earl of Foxstead, stopped short, arrested by the sight of Mrs. Eliza Pierce headed toward him. How could he have forgotten how beautiful the widow was? It had scarcely been a year since they’d seen each other, and even then, only briefly while surrounded by friends and family.

Yet still she took his breath away.

Tonight, in that satin evening gown skimming her full form, with the squared bodice showing so much of her bosom, she looked as ravishing as a practiced courtesan, but with no heavy paint to mar her features. Her golden curls were caught up in a sort of band about her head, leaving one long tress to trail down her neck onto her nearly bared shoulder. He fancied that if he tugged that single curl, the rest would come tumbling down to her waist.

God help him. It had been too long since he’d had a woman. Unfortunately, this woman, of all women, would be the wrong one, since she already thought him a raging rakehell. Which made sense, given he’d been one for years before the war.

“Lord Foxstead, I’m surprised to see you here.” Eliza smiled as she reached him, then held out her gloved hand. “I would never have taken you for a lover of amateur musical performances.”

He took her hand. “Yet here I am, Mrs. Pierce.”

She nodded in her usual serene fashion. “It’s good of you to come. I couldn’t persuade your friend the duke to do so.”

“Of course not.” Nathaniel squeezed her hand as firmly as he dared before releasing it. “Now that he has married your sister, he only sticks his nose out the door for his engineering projects.”

“True.” Her gay laugh poked at a part of him long hidden from the world. And from himself.

So did her eyes, which matched the blue of her gown so perfectly that he knew the fabric had been chosen for that purpose. His face must have shown his distraction, for his own sister cleared her throat.

“Forgive me, Mrs. Pierce,” he told Eliza, “but may I introduce my sister, Lady Teresa Usborne? Tess has come to London for the Season.”

Tess offered Eliza her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

Eliza pressed Tess’s hand. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.” Then she broadened her gaze to include him. “And please accept my condolences on the death of your mother last autumn. I should have sent a note . . .”

When she trailed off, he said, “I’m sure you’ve had plenty to worry about yourself, especially with your sister’s wedding. I hated to miss it.”

“You were both still in mourning.”

“It just ended,” his sister said softly. Tess disliked any discussions of death. He couldn’t exactly blame her, since they’d lost both their parents in the past three years. So, he wasn’t surprised when she changed the subject. “I understand that you’ll be performing this evening, Mrs. Pierce.”

“Do call me Eliza, please.” She lifted an eyebrow at Nathaniel. “Your brother always does. But yes, I’ll be playing and singing.”

“Both? You play an instrument?” He tried to hide his surprise. “I don’t know why I didn’t know that. Somehow, I’ve always missed hearing you exhibit.”

“Samuel didn’t like me performing for anyone but him,” she said tightly. “Did he never even tell you I played?”

“No, actually.” Another thing that surprised him. “I suppose you play the pianoforte.”

“I do, but my instrument of choice this evening is the harp lute. I also play the regular harp and the harpsichord.”

“Let me guess,” he said. “You picked those three because your maiden name is Harper.”

“My maiden name would have to be Harpist for that to work,” she teased him. “Technically.”

Tess laughed but he only stared at Eliza in bemusement. She had never teased him before. It gave him pause.

“You must be very talented,” his sister said, “and not just in musical instruments. My brother has told me so much about you and your sisters and Elegant Occasions.”

Despite being stained with scandal as the children of a divorced marquess and his adulterous wife, the Harper sisters had created a business that had become the most sought-after aid to throwing a successful social event. That was evidenced by the fact that tonight’s musicale was being held in a marquess’s mansion.

“Should I be flattered or insulted by what your brother told you of me?” Eliza asked his sister.

Tess chuckled. “Oh, flattered, to be sure. Nat has said nothing but good things.”

“Nat?” Eliza turned her sparkling gaze on him. “Even Samuel never called you anything but Nathaniel.”

He groaned. “Sadly, my family has used ‘Nat’ most of my life. I can’t break them of the habit.”

“We called him Natty when he was little,” Tess said confidentially, clearly ignoring the glower he leveled on her. “Until he threatened to run away from home if we didn’t stop.” She smirked at him. “He was domineering even then.”

“I’m not domineering,” he drawled. “It’s not ‘domineering’ when one’s way is the only correct way.”

Eliza laughed. “You sound like my new brother-in-law.”

“He sounds like me, you mean.”

“You’re younger than he is, aren’t you?” Eliza asked.

He arched an eyebrow. “Are you pretending to know my age, madam?”

“I know your age exactly. You’re thirty-one. You and Samuel both started at Eton at the same age. Or so he told me.”

“Close enough. I was actually a year younger than Sam. But he did speak the truth about us starting at Eton together.” He frowned. “Although he knew I was a year younger. Can’t imagine why he would tell you otherwise.”

“In case you didn’t notice,” Eliza said dryly, “my late husband could be rather vain. He often pretended to be younger than he was.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” He paused, not wanting to talk about Sam. There was too much he’d have to conceal. “I just turned thirty.”

She steadied a curious gaze on him. “How old do you think I am?”

“Good God, I wouldn’t be foolish enough to guess,” he said, ignoring his sister’s skeptical glance. “I know you’re the oldest of your sisters. But definitely much younger than I.”

“I’m twenty-seven. Old enough to know you’re flattering me. And why is that, I wonder?”

At that moment, as the silence stretched between them, his other companion for the evening entered the foyer looking worried as she approached Tess. “My lady, I searched everywhere in the coach, as did one of the footmen, and neither of us could find your shawl. Perhaps you left it at home?”

Before Nathaniel could reassure her, Tess said kindly, “No doubt. Don’t you worry one moment about it.”

“Eliza, may I present Mrs. Jocelin March,” Nathaniel said. “She’s staying with me and my sister at Foxstead Place for the Season.”

Jocelin, blushing furiously, curtsied, and Eliza, always kind, offered Jocelin her hand. “How nice to meet you, Mrs. March.”

The chit looked at the hand with a mix of embarrassment and intimidation before she took it. Nathaniel sighed. He was going to have to remind Jocelin once more that she belonged in society, even if she didn’t feel as if she did. Even if there were . . . difficulties.

“Why don’t you and Jocelin go find seats?” Nathaniel told Tess. “There’s a matter I wish to discuss with Eliza.”

With a nod, Tess took Jocelin off with her, since he’d already told his sister what he needed to talk to Eliza about. As soon as they were gone, Eliza stared after them, then lowered her voice. “Forgive me, but you must not be aware I’m in charge of this musicale. Can’t whatever you want to discuss with me wait until it’s over?”

He chuckled. “I’m certain you already have everything in readiness. Surely you can spare five minutes for your husband’s oldest and dearest friend.”

She eyed him askance. “Five minutes?”

“Or thereabouts. We can’t stay afterward, because we must rush home to relieve the poor maid looking after Jocelin’s two-year-old son. As a bachelor, I didn’t exactly have the . . . er . . . proper staff to handle a child.”

“I can only imagine.” Her lips twitched. “I’m sure her husband isn’t up to the task, either.”

“Forgive me, I forgot to mention she’s a widow like you. Indeed, her husband served on the Peninsula as well, but not in the Twenty-eighth Regiment of Foot with me. I assume that Sam mentioned in his letters the man he was aide-de-camp for, Major General James Anson? Well, Jocelin is Anson’s daughter.” Not too many details, my boy. That always gets you into trouble.

Concern crossed her face. “Didn’t the general die in the same battle as Samuel?”

Nathaniel nodded. “As did Jocelin’s husband. Several regiments were involved in the Battle of Talavera.”

“I’m aware,” she said, her eyes misting. “I read everything I could about it.”

“I was with the general when he died of his wounds a week after. He appointed me Jocelin’s guardian before he perished, since by then he’d been told that her husband had died in battle, leaving her nothing.” Damn, he had to tread carefully here. But it wasn’t as if he were lying. More like stretching the truth as far as it would go. “Once she discovered she was bearing a child, everything became more complicated, as you might imagine.”

“Oh, that poor woman!” Eliza said. “She seems awfully young to be dealing with so much.”

“She’s twenty. She was only sixteen when I met her. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I promised her father I’d make sure she found a good husband to take care of her, but I couldn’t do much about it until now because of her pregnancy and her being in mourning, then us being in mourning. She lived with our mother until Mother died, and now she lives with Tess and Lord Usborne in Gloucestershire. But she can’t do that forever.”

“She and your sister do seem to get along,” Eliza said cautiously.

“They do, but Linwood is too small for husband-hunting. And although she’s my ward until twenty-one, she can’t live with me.”

“Obviously.” She eyed him with interest. “Has she no other family? Of her own, I mean? I assume that the general or her mother had some, and perhaps even her late husband—”

“March was an orphan, so there’s no family on his side.” That lie came easily enough. “As for the general, his parents and only family died before he joined the army, and after that a wealthy gentleman for whom he’d done a great service purchased an officer’s commission for him. He even fought in America for a time, which is how he met his wife.”

“She was American?”

“Yes. She died in childbirth some time ago, as did her baby. Jocelin was their only surviving child.” The part about the Ansons was all true, sadly enough. “It’s not even possible to take Jocelin to live with her American relatives, given the tensions between our countries at present. Besides, once her mother married a British officer, her mother’s family disowned her.” The flash of sympathy crossing Eliza’s face gave him hope that Elegant Occasions would take Jocelin on.

“That makes Mrs. March’s situation even more tragic,” Eliza said in a soothing voice.

You have no idea. “I’m glad you think so. Because I was hoping that perhaps if I paid you and your sisters—paid Elegant Occasions—you might be able to . . . well . . .”

“Find her a ‘good husband’?”

“Exactly. It is the sort of thing you and your sisters do, isn’t it?”

A frown furrowed her brow. “Not quite. We could hardly engineer a début for a widow with a small child, even one with her titled connections.”

“I’m not suggesting a début as such. But you could introduce her into certain circles, make sure that men looking for wives notice her. Because of her youth, she needs a chaperone, and I will not suffice. Tess does it at present, but she’s not fond of London. So if you and your sisters could play that role for her—”

Someone called to Eliza from the door to the music room.

She glanced around and sighed. “I can’t talk about this now. Why don’t you bring Mrs. March to the town house tomorrow, and we’ll discuss it while Verity is there? I’ll see if Diana can’t join us as well. Will that suit?”

“Of course. Thank you.”

With a distracted smile, she hurried off.

He released a ragged breath. That had gone about as well as he could have hoped. At least he’d have a chance to convince the three sisters. And he would enjoy seeing them again, anyway. He’d always had a fondness for them, both before and after they’d married. Or rather, before two had married, if he included Eliza. From what he’d heard, Verity was still unattached.

Slipping into the music room, he took the seat his sister had apparently saved for him. She leaned close to whisper, “Well? Has your Eliza agreed to help with Jocelin’s situation?”

“She’s not my Eliza, by any means. But she did say she’d meet with us tomorrow to discuss the matter. Give me a couple of hours with her then, and I’ll talk her into it.”

“I’m not so sure. That one has a mind of her own.”

“Eliza? I suppose. But I’ve always thought of her as mild mannered, the sort who went along with what others said.”

Although, if he were honest, he’d only had that perception from Sam, who’d claimed she lacked passion, not just in bed, but everywhere. She had no temper, Sam had said, which he’d seemed to think proved she didn’t care enough about anything but her “precious sisters” to show the least bit of enthusiasm. Now that Nathaniel considered it, it smacked a bit of jealousy on Sam’s part.

Of her sisters? That seemed far-fetched, didn’t it?

“I doubt she’s mild mannered when plans go awry,” Tess said. “I daresay she can fight for what’s needed when necessary. A woman can tell these things about another woman.” She let out a breath. “Anyway, should I go along tomorrow, too? It might make Jocelin less nervous.”

“There’s no reason—she’s my responsibility, and, in any case, you need time to yourself. It’s not as if my accompanying a widow to Elegant Occasions would be considered scandalous. Even Eliza couldn’t find fault with it.”

“If you say so.” With a veiled glance at Jocelin, who was busy untangling her shawl from the pins of her coiffure, his sister leaned closer. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Jocelin?” he asked, deliberately misunderstanding her.

“Not Jocelin, you dolt. Mrs. Pierce.”

Damn. The last thing he needed was Tess playing matchmaker. “I like her well enough. She was Sam’s wife, after all.” Whom he apparently wouldn’t mind swiving.

Bloody hell. Being celibate for the last few years had clearly taken its toll. But that didn’t matter. Until Jocelin was settled, he could not try seducing Eliza. He mustn’t.

Who are you trying to convince, old boy?

He stared straight ahead. “I’ll always regard her as a friend.”

His sister snorted, obviously as skeptical as his conscience. “She’s very pretty, and exactly the sort of woman you generally fancy.”

He knew better than to respond to that. They sat a moment in silence.

When Tess apparently realized he didn’t mean to answer, she released a breath. “You might consider bringing Jocelin’s boy tomorrow as well. I daresay Mrs. Pierce would enjoy his shenanigans. She seems like the type, and it might ensure her help.”

That wasn’t a bad idea, actually. “You merely don’t want him left with you and the servants. Why can’t we keep a nursemaid on staff? I’m willing to pay for it.”

“That child needs an army of nursemaids, I fear.”

“He’s just rambunctious. The way all boys are at his age.”

“Suddenly you’re an expert on children?” his sister asked.

Before he could retort, Eliza came to the podium and introduced the first lady to perform. He stifled a sigh. Now he would have to endure varying levels of execrable performances by young ladies with little talent.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he slumped in his chair.

“Do not embarrass me,” his sister hissed.

“How on earth would I embarrass you?” he hissed back.

“The last time we went to something like this, you fell asleep and started snoring.”

“I have never snored in my life.”

“I beg to differ.” Tess surprised him by turning to Jocelin. “When we were in the carriage on the way to London and my brother fell asleep, did he or did he not snore?”

Jocelin got that startled look of a rabbit transfixed by the sight of a human. “Uh . . . well . . .”

“It’s all right, Jocelin. I know I snore. Occasionally.” He smirked at Tess. “I only say otherwise to provoke my sister.”

The music began, and he settled in. It was a bit better than he’d expected. He should have known that Eliza wouldn’t put together anything ear-bleedingly bad. She and her sisters were consummate professionals. Which was odd, given that ladies weren’t supposed to work. They had turned that expectation on its head.

Good for them. He hadn’t managed to do that yet for himself, but he was certainly trying.

Over the next hour, they heard a decent sonata, an accomplished harp solo, and an insipid duet. He had just turned to his sister to ask how many bloody performances were listed in the program, anyway, when the voice of an angel came to his ears.

Sure that he was imagining it, he turned his head to find Eliza playing the harp lute as she sang one of Cherubino’s arias from The Marriage of Figaro. It astounded him. Her voice was as pure a soprano as an opera singer’s, and her skill on the instrument rivaled that of any player he’d seen before.

But he wondered if she knew that the part of Cherubino, particularly in this scene, was what they called in the theater a “breeches role,” meant for an actress wearing breeches rather than an actor.

Mmm, Eliza in breeches. He could just picture it. He’d get to see her calves in nothing but stockings, her thighs and her rounded bottom molded in fabric instead of covered up by her gown and petticoats.

Of course, she would never wear breeches in a public venue like this. Only actresses dared do such things, and even then, only in the theater. It would be beyond scandalous, and Eliza wasn’t the scandalous sort, at least according to her late husband.

But her expressive face as she sang and her cheeky understanding that the song was a droll commentary on how a boy became a man—made him rethink everything Sam had told him. No man with ears would believe Eliza lacked passion of any kind. So perhaps she wasn’t quite who Sam had made her out to be.

Perhaps she was ready for a romantic entanglement.

Nathaniel groaned. This would already be a difficult few months, assuming that Elegant Occasions took Jocelin on. The last thing he needed to add to it was a flirtation with his best friend’s widow.

Still, as she finished singing and playing to triumphant applause, he felt his old rakish urges, which hadn’t troubled him in some time, reemerging. It might not have been part of his plan for the future, and it definitely wasn’t wise, but one day soon he meant to have Eliza Harper Pierce in his bed.

However he could get her there.

As usual, Eliza was last to come down for breakfast. Morning was no friend of hers. She generally required two cups of coffee just to get dressed and out of her bedchamber. But today was worse because she’d scarcely had any sleep.

Last night in bed, she kept remembering how Lord Foxstead had devoured her with his eyes during her performance, as if he were a wolf picking out his dinner. She wasn’t used to that sort of gaze from him. Having known him since before she and Samuel had married, she’d seen him level it on plenty of other women. But despite his reputation as a rakehell of the first water, he’d never used his flirtatious skills on her.

Until yesterday evening.

It had thrilled her. That, she hadn’t expected, since she’d known full well he was only doing it to get something from her. But he’d looked good enough to dally with, even in half dress—a tailcoat of corbeau-colored wool, a figured waistcoat of cream silk, and breeches of sage-green linen.

Pausing outside the dining room, she collected her thoughts and prayed her lack of sleep didn’t show. Diana might be the fashionist and Verity the temperamental artist, but Eliza moved behind the scenes to pay the bills, handle the various tradesmen accounts, and unruffle feathers for tradesmen and clients alike. It required a methodical attention to detail and a talent for figuring out other people’s motives and emotions, not to mention a calm demeanor. That was why she saved all her true feelings for her music.

Apparently, so did Lord Foxstead. Because the fire in his gorgeous raven eyes as she’d sung last night had ignited her in places she’d long thought dead.

Now she must smooth her features into serenity and pray that the mask would hide her chaotic emotions. At least Rosy, Diana’s sister-in-law who would be filling Diana’s shoes soon, was on her honeymoon trip. And Diana didn’t usually come over until later, so Eliza only had to deal with Verity.

Adopting an air of competence and confidence, she swept into the dining room and headed straight for the sideboard. “Good morning.”

“You look fetching today,” her sister said. “That parrot-green shade is so becoming on you. Isn’t that your new walking gown? Weren’t you saving it for some special affair?”

Eliza filled her bowl with porridge. “I thought I’d try it out, see if it feels constraining when I wear it all day.”

Verity laughed. “So it has nothing to do with the fact that Lord Foxstead will be here shortly.”

“Certainly not.” Eli. . .