Damsel in Distress Read Online Free PDF Page A

sons of good and often noble families had been turned down.
    Caro was a member. She was careful to attend a few assemblies each year to assure herself and society that she still belonged. Actually, the assemblies were an ordeal. Quadrilles and Scotch reels were the preferred dances, with only orgeat to slake the thirst. The playing of cards was allowed, but hardly more enjoyable, as the play was for chicken stakes.
    Caroline’s eyes skimmed the room, looking for Dolmain. Her heart raced when she spotted his dark head amidst the throng on the dance floor. The opening minuet was already in progress. Her next interest was to see who he was dancing with. She felt a definite lurch of jealousy when she saw his companion, a young lady in white — a deb. It was not just that he was standing up with her, but the intimate way he smiled at her. Surely he was well past the age for debutantes. It seemed he had a colt’s tooth in his head. The girl was a pretty blonde, but young enough to be his daughter.
    Caroline had the first set with Newton. Her major preoccupation was to keep away from his marauding toes; his was to spy out the new batch of young ladies making their curtseys.
    “The one with the yaller curls,” he said, as the dance drew to a close. “Can you present me to her, Caro?”
    ‘Which one?”
    “By the living jingo, she is coming toward us.” He twitched at his jacket. “Daresay I look like an unmade bed.”
    Caroline looked around and saw Lord Dolmain coming in her direction, accompanied by the young lady he had been dancing with when they arrived. She felt a little surge of triumph.
    “Lady Winbourne,” he said, with one of his businesslike bows, but his eyes spoke a more intimate story as they gazed into hers. “I would like you to meet my daughter, Lady Helen. She is making her debut this year.”
    “Your daughter!” Relief and surprise mingled inside her. “Good gracious, you cannot mean your daughter is making her bows.”
    As she turned immediately to greet Lady Helen and present Mr. Newton, she failed to observe the flash of embarrassment that Dolmain was suffering. He felt like an imposter. He hadn’t told Caro Helen’s age.
    Caro assessed the girl’s appearance and demeanor as she made the introduction. She was pretty and well behaved. Very well turned out, too, in a properly modest white gown, but those garish diamonds! They did not belong on a deb. They looked more like the bounty worn by the muslin company. Why had he allowed his daughter to wear them?
    Newt wasted no time in detaching Lady Helen for the next set.
    “My secret is out,” Dolmain said, as his daughter left. “You may call me Lord Methuselah.”
    “Why did you not tell me she is making her debut?”
    “Because it makes me feel ancient.”
    “Nonsense! She is very pretty, Dolmain. She does you proud. She must take after her mama.”
    “Do I detect the aroma of insult in there?” he asked, smiling.
    She waggled a playful finger at him. “Sunk to fishing for compliments, Dolmain? That was not my meaning. I am referring to her coloring and her general getup. She does not take after you. I never met Lady Dolmain.”
    “No, she was gone before you hit London.”
    “You make me sound like a tornado! So it is Lady Helen’s debut that accounts for your foray into society this year. I wondered, when I first saw you at the gaming hell, what had pried you loose from Whitehall.”
    “Now you are making me sound like a barnacle. You must know a papa’s work is never done.” He turned to gaze at his daughter, who was talking to Newton across the room.
    “Yours soon will be, Dolmain. She is very fetching. You will have no trouble getting her bounced off. Do you have other children you have been hiding from me?” she asked, with a teasing smile.
    “Just the one, and to tell the truth, I am in no hurry to lose her. She has reached the ripe old age of seventeen, however, and her aunt, Lady Milchamp, tells me it is time to place