The Unthinkable Read online

  Genie shook her head, listening to the fanciful ramblings. Lizzie’s imagination, once freed, was impossible to harness. So rather than try to stop her, Genie just sat back and allowed herself to be swept along for the ride.

  A duke’s son. A sharp thrill shot through her. To wed the son of a duke was almost like marrying a prince—with a coronet instead of a crown. What a wonderful story it would make, to be whisked away into the privileged, exciting world of the beau monde. Was such a thing possible?

  Hardly. She grinned. It was about as likely as Lizzie sitting still long enough to finish her sampler.

  But it was certainly fun to dream about.

  After months of preparation, not to mention countless trips to her mother’s mantua maker, the eagerly anticipated day had finally dawned. The week-long horse races held at Thornbury’s prized racetrack were over, and tonight, Genie and three other girls, including her dearest friend Miss Caroline Howard, would be presented to society tonight at the ball held in the town’s hall on High Street.

  The town was abuzz with excitement. And not just on account of the annual harvest festival race-week ball. The Duke of Huntingdon and his family had arrived at Peyton Park a few days ago, though no one seemed to be sure whether they would attend the ball tonight. After four weeks of Lizzie’s outrageous imaginings, Genie hoped they would show if only to put an end to all the speculation.

  Genie had been giddy with excitement all day—all week for that matter. She’d begun her preparations for the ball hours ago and was finding it difficult to sit still while Patty, her mother’s lady’s maid, put the finishing touches on her elegant coiffure.

  Genie couldn’t believe the difference in her appearance. The elegant woman reflected in the mirror was in sharp contrast to the excited young girl twittering inside.

  The pearl encrusted bandeaux that matched the delicate pearl earrings, necklace, and bracelet borrowed from her mother, had been secured on the crown of her flaxen head. Her long hair was bound up in the back into a high cascade of ringlets. More silken curls had been artfully arranged along her temples. What in the end was meant to appear simple and uncomplicated had thus far taken over an hour and a half to arrange. All that was left was to weave fresh pink flowers through the bandeaux to match the satin trim of her gown..

  “Sally,” her mother called anxiously to one of the harried chambermaids darting in and out of the room. “Where is the pink satin ribbon? Did you find the flowers for the bandeaux? Oh, where is my cashmere shawl? And find someone to help Miss Prescott get these kid gloves on.”

  “I have the ribbon and the flowers right here, ma’am. Your shawl is on the bed. I’ll send Kitty right up to help with the gloves.” The poor girl was barely coping with the frenzied demands of her nervous mistress.

  It seemed that all four of the female servants had been in her room at some point today. Indeed, the entire household of Kington House, from her father down to the daily scullery maid, had been on edge all week long.

  Expectations ran high. Despite her rather insignificant dowry, Genie knew that her family hoped that her “angelic beauty and sweetness of character” would enable her to make a good match. The entire family would benefit. The son of a wealthy squire or perhaps even the son of a nearby baronet could aid her eldest brother, Charles, in securing a good parish and help advance William and John with more desirable commissions.

  Critically, Genie studied her reflection as Patty began to weave the tiny flowers through the bandeaux. Her father called her and Lizzie his “two little Rubens cherubs.” Genie supposed it was an apt description with their pale, baby-soft blond hair, tiny turned-up noses, round pink cheeks, red bow lips and big blue eyes. Both girls also enjoyed their sweet cakes and tended toward a curvaceous figure. Pleasing enough, Genie supposed, but the big question was whether she would prove popular tonight.

  She dearly hoped so. What girl didn’t dream of having a swarm of handsome beaux to choose from at her first ball? And maybe from those beaux she would find her one true love. Like Lizzie, at her heart Genie was a romantic, though she was a tad more sensible than her oft impulsive sister.

  Genie yearned to be swept away by love and happiness like that which her parents had found. A husband whom she loved, a comfortable home, and a dozen children were everything Genie could wish for.

  But she’d yet to meet a man who came close to fitting her dreams. With only a few thousand people in the parish, she was already acquainted with most of the eligible young men in Thornbury. But tonight, many of the gentry from the surrounding countryside would join in the celebration. Perhaps her true love would be amongst them?

  The last flower secured in place, Genie stood to view the culmination of months of planning. Otherwise unadorned, the white crepe gown was trimmed at her high waistline with a thin pink satin ribbon to match the delicate pink satin petticoat. A moderate train, which would be pinned later for dancing, fell in small gathers down the length of her back. A rounded neck, tight bodice, and short sleeves completed the fashionable Grecian-style gown. Genie and Lizzie had pored over the latest sketches from their aunts in London to achieve just the right design. Thrilled with the result, she twirled before the looking glass.

  “Oh Eugenia,” her mother exclaimed, her eyes misting with tears. “You are loveliness itself. You’ve always made your father and me so proud, always such a good, sensible girl. Now look at you, all grown up…” She trailed off, dabbing her eyes with a lace-trimmed piece of linen she’d pulled from her reticule.

  “Truly, I’ve never seen you look so beautiful, Genie. The men will be falling at your feet. I do wish I could be there to see you tonight,” Lizzie said from her forlorn perch on Genie’s bed. “It’s not fair. Why must I wait until I’m eighteen?” She scowled at their mother. “Susan is coming-out with Genie and she has only just turned seventeen.”

  Sly puss, Genie thought. Lizzie’s nagging magically lightened the sentimental mood.

  “That’s only because Mrs. Andrews can’t wait to catch a title,” Mrs. Prescott replied briskly. “Your father and I harbor no such ambition. Though I wish we had more for you girls.”

  Genie could hear the silent apology in her mother’s voice. Although her father’s advowson of seven hundred and fifty pounds a year under the patronage of the Marquess of Buckingham was considered substantial for a rector, after providing for her brothers and supporting her two maiden aunts there was not much left for the two girls.

  “But you are both beautiful and accomplished,” Mrs. Prescott continued firmly, convincing herself. “It will be enough.” She sighed. “Before I know it both my girls will be gone with homes and families of their own.”

  “That will be some time yet, Mother.”

  “Especially for me,” Lizzie piped in glumly.

  “It will be your turn soon enough, young miss.” Mrs. Prescott gazed at Lizzie thoughtfully. “Perhaps it is the bane of the youngest to always want to be the eldest.” Gently, she lifted Lizzie’s chin with her finger. “So impatient, always afraid that you’ll miss something.” Leaning down, she placed a light kiss on Lizzie’s cheek. “Try not to grow up too fast, my love.”

  Empathizing with her sister’s impatience—a feeling she understood only too well at the moment—Genie offered what consolation she could. “I promise to tell you everything, including every boring detail about the duke’s sons—if they deign to make an appearance.”

  “Boring?” Lizzie laughed. “You don’t fool me, Genie Prescott. You are as curious as I am. But I’ll hold you to your promise. I want to hear every detail.” She sighed dramatically. “I just know something wonderful is going to happen tonight.”

  Any trepidation Genie may have harbored vanished in the first few minutes after her arrival when she was immediately surrounded by a throng of very enthusiastic gentlemen vying for her introduction.

  Never had she had such fun. Dancing, laughing, even her first foray into a little innocent flirting. It was perfect. She wished the night would ne