The Mistletoe Temptation: Faking Stitch, #2

CHAPTER 1

24th June 1817

As she entered Miss Chilson’s drawing room, Gina handed over a badly sewn unfinished embroidery of a swan, and an envelope containing a guinea. Miss Chilson murmured her thanks and gave Gina a perfectly sewn and nearly finished embroidery of an identical swan in return.

Gina gave the swan a cursory look, collapsed onto a chaise, and tossed the embroidery to the side. 

Ugh. It is so sticky today. She fanned her skirts against her legs, to little effect. 

Surely it’s better than last year when it was cold and wet all summer. Miss Amelia Chilson examined the embroidery Gina had brought for her. A little frustrated, this week? 

My mother is going to drive me to bedlam, Gina groused. "You really must practice the waltz more. I am convinced your poor dancing is why you have failed to snare a husband, she mimicked her mother’s tone. She has no idea how close to the truth she is. Have you finished the watercolor painting of the cats yet? No man will want to marry a talentless lady. She cannot seem to understand that some of us do not wish to become a dutiful little wife popping out babies every ten months like a broodmare. Gina heaved a sigh. I am about ready to slip arsenic into her tea and leave for the continent with my inheritance, damn the legality. I do so envy you, Miss Chilson."

Why do you think I live with my Great Aunt Henrietta rather than my parents? Miss Chilson’s brow furrowed as she started picking at the stitches Gina had attempted on the swan’s beak. Gina felt a flash of guilt. They were bad. The poor bird looked more like an ugly dog. A pug stretched on a rack. 

Sorry about that. Gina eyed the embroidery Miss Chilson had given her. The swan looked like a swan, elegant and regal. You really are worth every penny. I see you inspired me to even greater heights of fine stitching today.

I was quite pleased with the result. Miss Chilson nodded.

Miss Chilson was a marvel. She had been recommended to Gina by a newly-married friend as an embroidery tutor. But she was far better than that. By an ingenious method of Miss Chilson stitching two identical embroidery pieces between a series of swaps, young ladies of means created the illusion of being accomplished seamstresses without the inconvenience of spending hours with cramped backs and fingers. 

Am I late? Lady Sophie burst into the room, her needlework bag swinging. 

Not at all, Miss Chilson said soothingly as they exchanged embroidery and money. 

Since her two best friends accompanied her to a group embroidery session for tuition together, despite embroidery being even more boring than learning to sketch landscapes, Gina looked forward to Tuesday afternoons. Embroidery was the very best of her accomplishments, her mother liked to boast, and it was all credit to Miss Chilson.

How are you? Lady Sophie greeted Gina with a kiss on each cheek. It’s an age since I saw you.

Yes, it’s been a whole week. I’m well. My mother may not be for much longer. And you? Who are you in love with this week? Gina asked with a wink. 

You make me sound so flighty! Lady Sophie smoothed her skirts and gave a little wobble of her head and a smile. I have resolved to ignore men over the summer and only think of marriage next season. No earlier. The weather is too beautiful to be vexed. After Christmas is the time to make a decision about a husband.

Good afternoon. I’m so sorry. Miss Lucasta Wallace peeped around the door. 

Come in, Miss Chilson encouraged her. 

I haven’t done very much this week, Lucasta confessed to Miss Chilson in the tone of a dog who expected to be kicked.

That’s no problem. Miss Chilson smiled sweetly. Money and embroidery were exchanged. 

Honestly, Luca, Miss Chilson wishes I hadn’t either, Gina said. It would save her having so much to undo.

Miss Chilson hid her smile and didn’t comment, busying herself with the embroideries. 

Where have you been researching for your future travels? Lucasta asked as she settled into a chair and pulled out a fan. 

Siam, topically, Gina replied. It is the monsoon season there now. Hot and wet. I think I’ll give it a miss if the weather is anything like today, and visit in the dry season instead. 

I still can’t believe you’re going to desert us as soon as you turn twenty-one, Lady Sophie complained. Who will we gossip with at balls next season with you gone? It will be like someone cut one of the legs off our little three-legged stool.

"Like I said, it might be sooner if my mother won’t stop insisting on my being so accomplished and that I must marry," Gina said.

You just have to be patient. Lucasta fanned herself a bit too vigorously and a strand of her light-brown hair dislodged from its pin. And don’t say marry like one would say ‘be eaten by a bear’. Some of us would like to marry.

Sorry. Gina leaned her elbow on the arm of the chaise and allowed her chin to fall into her palm. Is there any progress?

Well, unless someone falls in love with me within the next twelve hours, I’ll be here with Sophie next season, trying to find a husband without the benefit of Sophie’s stunning looks and aristocratic family or your enormous wealth. I think that’s no progress. Another strand of Lucasta’s hair dislodged and streamed out behind her.

Lucasta was the only one who was really intending her faux accomplishment to snare her a husband. Gina wanted to avoid one tedious task, Sophie enjoyed the secrecy and naughtiness of the endeavor as much as anything, but Lucasta genuinely aimed to enhance her marriageability. However many times they said to Lucasta that she would find someone who loved her for herself, and her lack of looks or wealth were not a problem; she didn’t believe them. With some justification, to be fair. Sophie’s beauty was unconventional—curly strawberry-blonde hair with sparkling green eyes and pale skin that freckled if she went outside in March—but undeniable. And Gina’s fortune of fifty thousand pounds spoke for itself. By comparison, Lucasta’s two thousand pounds of dowry and pretty but unremarkable looks were common on the marriage mart. 

They chatted about their summer plans. Lucasta and Lady Sophie were both going to the country to escape the city heat. Gina was remaining in London, since her mother still hoped she might meet someone, and that was more likely in a populated area. 

Eventually, their two hours of tuition were up, and Miss Chilson talked each of them through the next section they would be pretending to sew. 

Are you going to the Midsummer ball this evening? Lady Sophie asked as they left. I’ll be there.

Oh absolutely, Gina replied. I can’t wait. 

You’re looking forward to it? Lucasta raised one eyebrow skeptically. 

No. Gina shook her head. I expect about as much entertainment from the soiree as from a dinner of tripe and potatoes. But it has one good feature: it is the last event of the London season.

That didn’t mean she got much of a break. Her mother was far too diligent. But there would be fewer members of the ton in town for Gina to be thrown at. So she expected some respite from social events, even if not from the relentless pursuit of accomplishments. 

Then we’ll all be together again in a few hours, Lucasta said happily. Perhaps we all find husbands.

CHAPTER 2

Emmett Stanton, heir to the Earl of Hapthorpe, was at the first ball in five years and it was as insipid as he remembered. If marriage to one of these suitable prospects was anything like this ball, he’d rather shoot himself. 

He didn’t voice this opinion, however, since one of the boring young women was his best friend’s sister. And presumably, another of them was the future Countess of Hapthorpe, since as eldest son of a financially secure aristocratic family, he had one job. It seemed churlish to thwart fate, his parents’ desires, and his literal only role in life in favor of something so trivial as say, his happiness, by attempting to avoid marriage any more than he already had for a decade.

He gulped the lemonade, pretended he was having a good time, and tried not to imagine his impending married life. If only he could avoid marrying… But that was impossible, since he had no brothers. He wanted to focus on his business, not be beholden to a young lady whose greatest ambition was to simply marry. 

You know you said you’d dance with my sister? Marmaduke—Duke—Bains nudged him and jerked his head toward a young woman facing away from them. She was medium height, and in a red gown that if she’d left it alone might have had a pretty elegance. Instead she was bedecked with two-thirds of the fripperies of London. She looked as though she’d gone to a haberdasher, thrown everything onto the floor, then rolled in it. 

Oh no. 

This is her third season, Emmett said