This was more than Mrs. Richards had expected, but she plumed herself upon her tact in managing things so cleverly, and looked forward to the visit with no small amount of interest.
The next day, through Lady Sherbrooke’s influence, she received cards for a grand reception at Lady Tukesbury’s, who resided in a palatial mansion in Piccadilly, and she felt assured that they were now fully launched upon a brilliant career.
Of course they accepted the invitation, she appearing in black velvet, point lace, and diamonds, while Josephine was resplendent in rich white silk and scarlet verbenas, and created quite a sensation in “Japonica-dom,” greatly to her mother’s delight and her own satisfaction.
“Who is she? Where did she come from?” was whispered on all sides.
“An American? Ah! that accounts for her brilliant style of beauty, then. Inherit Sir Charles Thornton estates, do they? In that case they will be quite an acquisition to society,” were the opinions expressed and the conclusions arrived at by people who were careful in such matters; and then seekers for introductions—and seekers for fortunes—pressed forward for an introduction to the beautiful young heiress.
But notwithstanding Josephine enjoyed herself, and felt no small degree of pride at receiving these attentions from lords and baronets, she found herself looking everywhere for one familiar form, one dark, handsome face, which she had never forgotten, and which she knew she should recognize anywhere and under any circumstances.
“Mamma, I wonder if Lord Carrol is here?” she whispered, when once during the evening they happened to be together.
“I don’t know; I will ask Lady Sherbrooke if I have an opportunity,” she replied.
She managed to get near her ladyship soon after, and asked:
“Is your son out of town, Lady Sherbrooke?”