Page 46 of A Mismatch Made in London

“Juliet is right,” Jeremy said. “He doesn’t deserve you if he allows his mother to dissuade him.”

I looked into his eyes, and thinking I saw compassion in them, the tears began to flow.

“Excuse me.” I hurried from the room. By the time I reached my room and pressed my face into my pillow, I was sobbing.

Had Lord Gotthurst loved me if he could give me up so easily? But I didn’t want to judge him. I knew it would be difficult for him to marry against his mother’s wishes. But why hadn’t he fought for me? Was I not worth at least introducing to his mother in an effort to get her to accept me?

I remembered Jeremy’s words, that he didn’t deserve me if he could be dissuaded so quickly. His words were both uplifting and humiliating, to receive such “comforting” words from Jeremy Beaumont—who had likely assumed I was only after Lord Gotthurst for his money, since I couldn’t manage to gethim.

I was still crying when Juliet burst into the room and put her hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t blame you for being upset. But there are plenty of other gentlemen in London, more noble ones whose mothers aren’t so proud and insufferable. If she had only met you, she would see what a wonderful person you are. But we shall not care a whit, and the next time I see that Lord Gotthurst, I shall snub him with all my might. I shall insult him and tell him what a cad he is.”

“No, please, I don’t want you to do that,” I said, sitting up and wiping my face with a handkerchief. “He needs to keep on good terms with his mother, after all. I am not angry with him.”

“You are too good, Amelia.”

“I am not so good. I’m hurt and embarrassed, but I know I must forgive him or I will never be able to ... find the man I’m meant to marry.”

“That is very wise. And this is what we’re going to do. We will go to Lady Blackmoor’s ball next week, and we will be the most beautiful, flirtatious two ladies there. We shall be proper, but we shall use every trick I’ve ever seen. We will drop our handkerchief just to make a gentleman pick it up for us. We will flutter our eyes and pretend we feel faint so a gentleman must lead us to the balcony to get some air. We will smile and compliment every handsome, eligible gentleman in the room. We will dance every dance and have every gentleman there thinking they are in love with us. If we don’t have a dozen men calling on us the next day, then I will not be satisfied.”

I actually smiled at all Juliet’s declarations.

“And if you don’t return to Buckinghamshire with multiple marriage proposals, I shall not believe it.”

“Juliet.” I laughed.

“There, that’s what I want to see. I want you to be laughing and confident, for you shall be the prettiest girl in the room. No one will be able to take his eyes off you.”

Juliet hired a woman, Madame Leonora, that she had heard could give beauty treatments that would transform a woman’s face and make her look like a glowing porcelain doll.

Madame Leonora set about making us both beautiful. For the next few days, she soaked our skin first in rosewater and then in milk. She gave us a concoction of beeswax and almond oil to apply to our faces at night. She gave us chamomile, rosemary, and lavender tea to drink. She also scrubbed our faces with a mixture of milk and crushed oatmeal, then applied the beeswax and almond oil again.

Lastly, she applied rice powder to our faces, decolletage, shoulders, and arms. We had to lie still so long that my whole body started to itch. I had such a tickle on the end of my nose, I just had to scratch it.

“Stop! Don’t move!” Madame Leonora cried out.

I froze and stayed still for another half hour, until she finally allowed us to wash.

After three days of this, Juliet exclaimed, “You look radiant, Amelia! So beautiful. Your skin truly is like porcelain.”

When I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t see anything but the same me, although perhaps my face did look a bit more even toned. And I did think Juliet looked prettier than usual. Her skin was also a bit more even and smooth, with fewer blemishes, and her cheeks almost glowed with a brightness she didn’t have before.

Even if the benefits were just my imagination, it did feel good to be plied and pampered with all kinds of beauty treatments, listening to Madame Leonora’s lilting accent, telling us how beautiful we were and assuring us we would be irresistible. It enabled me to wait until we went to bed to cry. But when I would hearJuliet’s deep, even breathing signaling that she was asleep, my tears would flow, wetting my hair and my pillow, and probably undoing some of Madame Leonora’s beauty treatments, as I dwelt on how homesick I was and how hurt I felt at Lord Gotthurst’s rejection of me.

13

It was the day of the ball, and Juliet and I were breakfasting and talking about our plans for the day. Or rather, Juliet was talking. I was thinking about how much I’d cried the night before about missing my mother and father and siblings. I missed our house, my bedroom, my horse, and being out of doors in the quiet of the afternoon. I’d begun to think I was sadder about being away from home than about Lord Gotthurt’s rejection.

Jeremy entered the room with the morning mail. “You have a letter,” he said to me, handing me the folded and stamped paper.

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” He had been polite and kind to me for the last few days—I wasn’t quite sure when it started. I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt guilty for persuading Lord Gotthurst and Mr. Shelley to pay attention to Juliet and me, especially since Lord Gotthurst had ended up breaking my heart. Or perhaps that was too dramatic. Better to say: He had made me hope he was about to propose marriage, and then he disappointed me. That sounded much better than that he had planned to marry me and then ended all connection because his family didn’t think I was wealthy enough for him.

But this was a letter from my mother!

I quickly broke the seal and found a second sheet of paper tucked inside hers filled with notes from my brothers and sisters.