Sally by M.C. Beaton

as Mr. Worthing, the ducal secretary.
    “And you are Aunt Mabel, of whom I’ve heard so much,” he said with a charming smile, which completely altered his plain features. “I am ready any time to help you with your letters.”
    “You seem to be very busy,” commented Sally, looking at the piles of correspondence on his desk.
    “I am sending out the invitations to the duchess’s ball,” he said.
    “When is it?” asked Sally.
    “On Friday the thirteenth.”
    “But that’s only a week away!”
    “Her Grace specializes in impromptu invitations,” said Mr. Worthing dryly. “But everyone usually accepts. I have nearly finished. Now, this one is a mistake. Lady Cecily Trevelyn.”
    “Why a mistake?” asked Sally curiously.
    “Because I happen to know that Lady Cecily has left South Africa and will not be arriving in London until two days after the ball.”
    “Oh.” Sally sat down suddenly, her brain working feverishly.
    “Is Lady Cecily a debutante?” asked Sally suddenly. “And who is she?”
    “Lady Cecily is the ward of the Earl and Countess of Hammering, who were visiting their estates in South Africa. Lady Cecily’s parents, the Duke and Duchess of Dervere, died when she was a baby.”
    “How sad,” said Sally. “Is she my age?”
    Mr. Worthing looked in surprise at the agitated old lady.
    “You cannot mean Lady Cecily, since she is nineteen years old,” he said delicately. “I assume you are referring to Lady Hammering, who is about… er… forty.”
    “Much younger than I,” said Sally, recovering from her blunder.
    Her brain seemed to be working at an enormous rate. “I have it!” said Sally with a bland smile. “I remember hearing that the Earl and Countess of Hammering have, in fact, arrived in London. Yesterday, I believe.”
    “Really!” said Mr. Worthing. “I am usually very well informed of the comings and goings of the duchess’s friends, but I take your word for it, of course.”
    “In fact,” rushed on Sally, “they are by way of being personal friends of mine, and I have to travel to London… er… tomorrow, and I could take the invitation with me.”
    “Well,” he said slowly, “that would be very kind of you.”
    A dismal thought suddenly struck Sally.
    “I suppose,” she said, looking down and twisting at a loose thread on her mittens, “that the duke and duchess are very well acquainted with Lady Cecily. Known her since childhood.”
    “Oh, no,” said Mr. Worthing. “As far as I know they’ve never set eyes on her. She’s not come out yet, so to speak, so no one’s really seen her.”
    Sally breathed an inward sigh of relief. Lady Cecily would go to the ball, represented by Sally Blane!
    Sally thanked Mr. Worthing effusively for the invitation, whereupon he replied with mild surprise that the thanks were all on his side. She made her escape and went in search of the duchess, to explain that it was imperative that Aunt Mabel return to London to see her doctor, that Aunt Mabel would unfortunately not be attending the ball, but that Aunt Mabel would definitely return on the day after in case further counseling was needed.

CHAPTER FIVE
    “I can’t possibly do it!” protested Miss Fleming, raising her hands in horror.
    “You’ve got to,” said Sally grimly. “I must have a chaperon.”
    Both women were sitting in the living room of their Bloomsbury flat, and Miss Frimp was visiting a cousin. On the table between them lay the invitation to the Earl and Countess of Harrington and their ward, Lady Cecily.
    “We’ll be found out,” moaned Miss Fleming. “I mean, we’re expected to stay there a day before the ball. Ample time for anyone to discover we’re impostors.
Think
, Sally. If someone wrote asking you for your advice in this matter, you would tell them very sternly to forget about the whole thing.”
    “I’m in love with him,” said Sally flatly, as if this admission answered all protests.
    “Aren’t you just in love with the title?”