by Archer, Kate
“May I?” Lord Hampton said, holding his hand out for her card. She handed it over and noted Sybil doing the very same to Lord Lockwood. She and her friend were a pair—they’d so boldly talked of avoiding the gentlemen of the pact, and here they were meekly handing over their cards. Still, she did not see what else they could do.
Lord Hampton filled in his name for the first, bowed and walked off. Cassandra supposed she should be relieved that the first was claimed, regardless of who had claimed it. She could also be grateful that the lord had not lingered. She noted him tap another master and approach another lady. And then another. He was moving through the operation in a military fashion and it relieved her to know that she was not at all marked as singular. It was clear enough that Lord Hampton sought to do his duty and be done with it.
After Lord Lockwood had moved on, and he had not taken himself off with the incredible speed of Lord Hampton, Cassandra said, “Our well-laid plans have crumbled to dust.”
“I rather think,” Lady Sybil said, “they were not particularly well-laid to begin. I cannot imagine how we did not foresee that refusing a man a dance would be difficult. I suppose I had some vague idea of dashing from place to place so that none of them could catch up to me.”
“Ah well,” Cassandra said, “perhaps we might comfort ourselves in the idea that it is only a dance. Neither of us will have to go into supper with them.”
Cassandra watched both lords put their names on various cards and wondered who that lady would be that would find herself escorted into supper by a gentleman of the pact. She noticed that the ladies who were approached by the two gentlemen appeared rather delighted, but then she could not know their real feelings. They might only wear a mask of politeness, just as she did herself.
As she glanced at the tables, she saw that her aunt and Lady Blanding wore no such masks. They were delighted, that could not be mistaken.
Her attention was taken from her aunt by the stream of gentlemen approaching her. Some she had met at the Tremanes’, some were introduced by one of the masters. Lord Burke, who she’d danced with at the Tremanes’ and found very pleasant, took the dance before supper. He was to be a duke, which must go against him. However, he was not included in the list of names associated with the pact and that must be in his favor.
The ballroom had grown crowded and Cassandra could not imagine that many more people were to be crammed into it. The musicians had been tuning for some minutes and so it could not be long before the first dance would begin. She would hurry it, as the faster it arrived, the faster it departed. She would dance with Lord Hampton with all good grace and then begin to really enjoy her evening.
Lord Hampton came to collect her, and she shot Sybil a glance before her friend was led away, too.
The musicians took their cue and began to play. The ball was to begin with a quadrille. Cassandra had been vastly relieved when she’d examined her card that there was no mention of an endless minuet. She had only danced the Quadrille for the first time at the Tremanes’, but she’d practiced with a dancing master endless times in Surrey. Her dear father might hold the purse strings tight when it came to frippery, but he would view it an abomination to send his daughter to a ball uninformed of how to execute the various steps.
The lead couple, along with Lord Burke and his partner, the strikingly pretty Miss Daisy Danworth, began the dance. Cassandra stood next to Lord Hampton as a side couple, waiting for their turn.
It would be customary, while one waited, to strike up some sort of common conversation. It would be customary for the gentleman to initiate such conversation. Yet, Lord Hampton stood stone-faced and said not a word.
Cassandra was both gratified and irritated. It was well he did not wish to speak. On the other hand, was she deemed so uninteresting that he could not bother himself to make some comment on the size of the ballroom or the skill of the musicians?
Le Pantalon having been completed by the first two couples, Lord Hampton led her expertly. Whatever his dour temperament, he’d certainly had the benefit of a dancing master.
Cassandra was careful in her steps, and relieved to get through creditably. She found herself once again standing next to the silent man.
Her irritation grew as she watched the other couples take advantage of those moments for conversation. A gentleman said something amusing, a lady laughed and replied. Just as it should be.
Finally, to avoid looking a complete fool, and she would with so many eyes trained on Lord Hampton, she said, “The weather is particularly fine just now.”
Rather than reply to this innocuous salvo, the lord only nodded.
Irritation coursed through her. Now she was to appear an even bigger fool. She had initiated a conversation and been firmly rebuffed. It would be impossible to believe it had not been noted, and it would be discussed. If Cassandra had gained any slight understanding of London, it was that balls were minutely dissected in drawing rooms across the town. Every move, every overheard conversation, every look, was to be analyzed down to the last detail.
“You might at least attempt some sort of civility, my lord,” she said.
Lord Hampton appeared startled, though he quickly recovered. “I am sorry, miss?”
The way he said the words left no doubt to their meaning. His tone fairly dripped with condescension. To call her miss, rather than Miss Knightsbridge, as if she were an inconsequential person whose name was not worth the effort of recalling. She supposed the lofty lord felt he conferred some mighty favor on a country girl like herself.
She would not stand for it.
“Do not feign ignorance,” she said. “And do not suppose that every lady you encounter is desperate to know you.”
It was their turn to step into the square and so Lord Hampton did not reply. He did look fairly furious, however.
While Cassandra had gone some way to shocking herself with her boldness, she found she was not overly sorry for it. She had wished to avoid the gentlemen of the pact, and she was certain she would never be opportuned by Lord Hampton again. That left just five more to insult into silence.
The thought of it nearly made her giggle, but she suppressed the urge.
*
The first dance had come to a blessed end with no further words exchanged with Lord Hampton. After the urge to giggle had passed, Cassandra had begun to regret her daring. It was not that she thought he deserved any kinder treatment; it was only that she was well-aware that it would not be the done thing in London.
In Surrey, she had never felt constrained in her speech. If she thought something strongly, she would say it. She’d not soon forget the taking down of a certain Mr. Longmoore. He’d opportuned her in a shocking manner at a ball, grasping at her arm as she exited the lady’s retiring room and suggesting she, as he termed it, “Take him on.” She presumed this to be some sort of low marriage proposal, and quite ridiculous at that—Mr. Longmoore was a tradesman in the village who had the unfortunate reputation of drinking too much. The habit had been on unmistakable display on that particular evening.
After she’d pulled away from the drunken fool, he’d had the audacity to attempt to kiss her. She’d slapped him hard and informed him that she viewed him in no more favorable a light than a kitchen mouse, and if he were so ill-advised as to approach her again in such a manner, she’d chase him with a kitchen broom. The man was lucky she had not informed her father, who would have chosen a weapon a deal more deadly than a broom.
Mr. Longmoore had given her a wide berth after that.
Still, in London, where everybody and everything were so minutely scrutinized, where ladies were held to such strict standards, speaking one’s mind did not appear to find much approval. She only hoped Lord Hampton was embarrassed enough over the encounter that he’d not mention it to anybody.
Now, Lord Burke escorted her into the supper room and Cassandra anticipated an amusing repast. The lord had somehow the skill of telling of war as if it had been one long joke—she remembered vivi
dly his tale told at the Tremanes’ of the horrors his cook would dream up, being saddled with so few ingredients that were edible, and the bright face that cook would put on them. One evening, the cook had grandly announced vieux lapin dans une sauce pire. If Lord Burke’s French had been poor, he may never have realized he ate “old rabbit in a worse sauce.” Still, the lord supposed it was better than the evening he’d dined on racines que j’ai trouvé dans la forêt, which had loosely translated to “roots I found in the forest.”
“Miss Knightsbridge,” Lord Burke said, leading her into the dining room, “how do you enjoy the evening now that I’ve had the pleasure of leading you about the floor? I managed to avoid knocking you over, which I always consider an accomplishment.”
“I enjoy the evening very well, Lord Burke,” she said. “I have come through entirely unscathed. Had you knocked me to the floor, I am confident we might have passed it off as the latest figure from Mr. Wilson.”
“You understand the ton all too well,” Lord Burke said, laughing. “If Brummel says tie it this way, it is tied. If Wilson says step this way, it is stepped.”
Cassandra smiled up at Lord Burke. She found she had a great appreciation for his wit. And, for all her consternation during her first dance with Lord Hampton, she could not deny that the ball had been pleasant since then. In truth, she felt positively lighthearted—her card had been filled and a few gentlemen turned away on account of it. She supposed she’d carried on quite creditably.
The dining table was already crowded. Lord Burke pointed to a few empty chairs and said, “Just there, and good luck too. There is my friend Hampton.”
Chapter Three
While Cassandra would have gladly chosen any other chair than the one empty across from Lord Hampton, she had not been able to posit an excuse before Lord Burke had led her there.
Ever jolly Lord Burke did not seem to note the coolness with which both she and Lord Hampton confirmed that they had been introduced. Lord Hampton’s dinner partner, the beautiful Miss Daisy Danworth, her blond curls charmingly escaping her lady’s maid’s best laid plans, did seem to note it. The lady looked amused.
“Dashed inconvenient thing, that pact, eh, Hampton?” Lord Burke said. “I’ve some kind of luck that my own father does not conspire so.”
Cassandra was surprised to hear of the pact spoken of so openly to one who was affected by it. Lord Hampton appeared filled with consternation to hear it mentioned. He said, “Perhaps we should not discuss it in front of the ladies.”
Lord Burke laughed. “Good Lord, there is no end of things that ought not be discussed in front of the ladies, it’s a wonder they hear anything at all.”
“Nevertheless,” Lord Hampton said, beginning to look dark as thunder.
“My friend,” Lord Burke said, “there is not a chimney sweep or fish wife in London who could not recite you a version of that letter backward and forward.”
“I think it is very unfair to the ladies,” Miss Danworth said. “The moment one of us shows the trifling amount of interest we shall be pegged as the most determined title-hunters.”
“Though,” Cassandra said, unwilling to resist the remark dangling before her, “I do not suppose it will be very difficult to remain uninterested, thereby nullifying the problem.”
“Ah,” Miss Danworth said, “Miss Knightsbridge speaks very decidedly. Have you met and dismissed all six gentlemen of the pact?”
Cassandra smiled. “I have not and have no need of it. I have no wish to be a duchess, I would find it rather boring.”
“Boring?” Lord Burke said. “Now you must elaborate, Miss Knightsbridge, as I am very sure that is a unique opinion.”
With a small smile, Lord Hampton said, “Yes, do enlighten us on the boredom of it all.”
Cassandra had not meant to let slip her real views on such things, but she’d gone and done it, and there was no turning back now.
“I am sure it is only my own eccentricity,” Cassandra said, “but it seems to me that the higher one goes in the strata of society, the more one is stared at. I’d prefer a bit more freedom than that. I’d prefer to gallop my horse over hill and dale, leaving my groom far behind, and have nobody comment upon it.”
Lord Burke said, “Gad, I see what you say. My mother is forever telling my sisters what people will think about this or that. They barely make a move without her informing them of it. I do not suppose they’ve ever galloped in their lives.”
“You are in the habit of wild rides, Miss Knightsbridge?” Miss Danworth asked.
Cassandra very much thought Miss Danworth sought to make her seem foolish. She had met such women before, and she thought she knew how to manage them.
“Miss Danworth,” she said sweetly, “a horse who is never given its head is an unhappy creature. It is only a kindness to give them leave to see what they can do. I hope I have enough sense to keep my father’s stables in contented good order.”
“What I believe Miss Danworth means to point out,” Lord Hampton said, “is that ladies galloping round the countryside, sans groom, is not exactly the done thing.”
Cassandra felt herself flush. Who was this man to inform her of what she ought to do and what she ought not to do? Her own father did not dictate in such a manner.
“Apparently,” she said, “it is the done thing by some, as I do so often.”
“If that is so,” Lord Hampton said, “one wonders what else might be on the list of done things in Surrey. I suppose you shoot pheasant and go round in trousers if you have a mind.”
“If there was a practical reason for going round in trousers, I might very well do it,” Cassandra said, anger rising in her chest, “and anybody might take a shot at a bird.”
“Gosh,” Lord Burke said, “I cannot quite imagine my own sisters taking up a shotgun—I’d be afraid of who would end up dead on the drive.”
“Certainly, Lord Burke, any female might learn the skill,” Cassandra said. “It is not an overly complicated operation.”
Miss Danworth looked enormously pleased with the conversation. Cassandra was mortified. She’d not wished to reveal any of what she’d said. But then, that stupid, arrogant lord had purposefully baited her into it!
She went on far quieter after that and was relieved that Lord Burke would entertain them with more stories of his cook in the war. The fellow had once picked mushrooms for a repast but turned out not to be skilled at selecting edible varieties. The lord had been sick for days. The man had since been installed in Grosvenor Square and was a deal more comfortable ordering from a grocer than he’d ever been wandering forlornly round foreign forests.
*
Edwin and Lord Lockwood rode their horses through the quiet streets, the Bergrams’ ball blessedly over.
“A successful sally, I’ll wager,” Lockwood said. “Here we are, free at last and having given nobody reason to hope.”
Hampton did not answer. His head was still too full of his encounters with Miss Knightsbridge. Of all the high-handed misses! First, she demanded he speak to her and then insulted him when his conversation was deemed unsatisfactory. What had she said? “Not everyone is desperate to know you.” That was what she said.
Then Burke would bring her to his notice again! She would apprise him, pointedly, that she did not care a fig for the pact and the last thing she’d wish to do was become a duchess. Of course she did not, she was too busy galloping around and shooting birds.
Who ever heard of such a thing? What went on in Surrey, that a viscount’s daughter was in the habit of shooting birds? The notion was absurd. The habit of muff pistols was ridiculous enough—a lady was fortunate not to shoot off her foot and if a lady really wished to be defended from highwaymen, that lady ought to bring enough well-armed men to do the job. It was a silly conceit to carry a toy pistol in a reticule and a worse conceit to claim skill with a shotgun.
He’d never heard of a lady successfully fending off an attack with her delicate little pistol and was certain he never wo
uld. He supposed Miss Knightsbridge would be better prepared, as she’d have a fowling piece by her side.
“Close one on Lady Sybil, though,” Lockwood said. “Manning was supposed to take her into supper and was called away on some emergency. Dash it—I stepped in before I could even think. I’d not claimed the dance before supper and had thought to take myself off to some balcony or other to avoid a protracted conversation with a lady. Then, there I was, arm out and leading her in. She’s a charmer, I won’t lie.”
Hampton had not particularly attended his friend’s speech. He looked over and said, “What?”
“Never mind,” Lockwood said in exasperation. “You will attend on the morrow, I suppose?”
Hampton knew perfectly well what Lockwood referred to. The gentlemen named in the pact were all to meet at Dalton’s house. Dalton was already an earl and had a large residence in Berkeley Square.
“I will attend,” Hampton said. He did not know what would be discussed, except to assume they were all to come up with some idea of how to put their fathers off without having to move to Cheapside.
Hampton could not say how they would do it, but they must do it. As for the other side of the coin, the danger of falling for the charms of some lady or other, he was in no danger whatsoever. The ladies he’d danced with that evening were all of a kind—eager to display their beauty and wit. Except, of course, Miss Knightsbridge. She was only eager to flout her confoundedness, horsemanship and skill with a gun.
“How did you get on with Miss Knightsbridge?” Lockwood asked. “I know you have a weakness for her sort of looks and I saw you conversing with her at dinner. Did she attempt to cast a net?”
“Miss Knightsbridge is too busy galloping her horse and firing off a fowling piece at passing birds to cast any nets,” Lord Hampton said drily.
*
Lady Sybil was shown into the drawing room and hurried to Cassandra’s side. Lady Marksworth greeted her civilly and rose. “I shall leave you two alone,” she said. “I remember all too well the day after a ball in my own youth and am certain there is no end of things to discuss without the eavesdropping of an old woman.”