“What a beautiful sight.” He enveloped my hand in a meaty paw weighted with rings. “You certainly have a sparkle about you, Miss Davies.” He chuckled at his wit.
I tittered in return. “How charming of you to say so, sir. Thank you so much for the invitation. Marvelous party, as always.”
“Joyce’s doing, of course,” he said. “It’s good that someone here earns their keep.” He glanced over his shoulder at David, who rolled his eyes. “But these things need a woman’s touch, I feel.” He leered, and I could feel my smile grow brittle. “You’ll dance with me later, Miss Davies?” He just barely managed to make it a question.
“Oh, how kind of you.”
He seemed satisfied with that and released me at last. Cee and I moved on. I saw Beckworth heading our way, tripping over his own feet in his haste.
“Cee, you need a dance,” I insisted. “Don’t you agree, Ducky?”
“Oh, I … yes, of course!” Beckworth agreed. “Lady Cecilia, would you, uh, do me the honor? Just to warn you, I tend to tread on toes now and again.”
“You won’t tread on hers,” I reassured him. “Cee’s an expert at making the roughest dancers look like Fred Astaire. Go on, Cee—don’t waste the song.”
“If you’re sure you won’t feel abandoned,” she said, glancing from me to Beckworth even as her right foot started moving impatiently.
“Of course not. There are loads of people here for me to talk to. Go on!” I practically shoved her toward Beckworth, who took her hand and led her away.
As they dissolved into the crowd and I considered what to do next, a flash of yellow satin and jewels at the top of the staircase caught my eye. Millicent had arrived, pouffed and pomaded into Marie Antoinette. She paused, tapping a fan against her hooped-out skirts, looking down on everyone. A moment later, Lord Dunreaven appeared, dressed in a Russian folk costume: baggy black trousers tucked into knee-high boots and a royal blue velvet jacket trimmed in fur and embroidered in silver. A silver-blue silk sash with silver fringe was slung twice around his waist.
The sight of him, maddeningly, made my stomach jump in excitement.
Millicent simpered and took his arm so they could make their entrance together. Aunt El would have been shocked by such a display. I could practically hear her now:
“Surely they must be engaged, to arrive together so publicly? My word, the things young people get up to nowadays! It never would have been permitted in my day!”
I helped myself to another champagne and tried not to watch them make their grand entrance. What did I care who either of them arrived with? It wasn’t going to spoil my evening. I was there to have a good time, and by God, I would!
I escaped into the adjoining dining room, which was dominated by an enormous gilded fountain spouting blood-red punch. A gaggle of young men gathered around it, daring each other to drinking contests and helping themselves to the astonishing array of food. One boy, drunker than the others and dressed as a jungle savage with a blacked-up face, grabbed a massive piece of pork pie and tried cramming it into his mouth all at once. I thought uncomfortably of Reilly’s nieces and nephews, going to bed hungry.
“There’s cake!” Toby announced, materializing with a laden plate. “What do you think, could we smuggle some of this back? Have you got any extra room in that dress?”
“Leave off, Toby!” I hissed.
“Oh, we’ve gone sparky. Don’t frown at me, miss—you’ll get wrinkles. What’s got into you? Has Millicent oozed in?”
“She has, but it’s not that.”
“Well, whatever it is, don’t let it spoil the evening. Here—” He put his plate aside and replaced my champagne with a glass filled with something grass-green. “Drink this and you’ll forget all about Millicent. Drink two and you’ll forget your own name.”
I smiled and sipped the drink, which kicked like a mule. I took another tentative sip just as Dunreaven appeared in the doorway. His eyes swept the room, and he saw me and approached. “Good evening, Miss Davies.”
“Good evening, Lord Dunreaven. I think you know my cousin, Toby Weyburn?” I gestured in Toby’s direction.
Dunreaven shook Toby’s hand, clearly trying to place him. “Oh!” He brightened. “Not Toby Weyburn from St. Dunstan’s?”
“The very same.” Toby seemed surprised to be remembered.
“It’s good to see you again,” Dunreaven said heartily. “We should catch up.”
“How nice! Let’s. But for now I think I’ll stop third-wheeling and go make sure Buckoo Wallace doesn’t drown himself in the punchbowl.” Toby vanished and I discreetly set aside the lethal drink he’d given me.
Dunreaven turned his attention back to me. “Queen of the Night?”
“Well, that remains to be seen,” I rejoined. “You look quite striking. You’ll probably win first prize.”
He responded with a self-deprecating smile. “I wondered if I’d overshot the mark. It was my father’s costume. More suited to him. He enjoyed being stared at. I don’t.”
“People will stare at a titled bachelor no matter what he’s wearing.”
His mouth twitched. “I suppose so. Makes it devilish hard to know who really wants to spend time with Jeremy Harris, though.”
“That’ll be the ones who aren’t staring,” I told him.
“How very helpful you are, Miss Davies.”
“I aim to be more use than ornament.”
He smiled. “Well, you would have to be very useful indeed, then.”
The way he was looking at me made the skin up and down my arms prickle. I swallowed hard and tried to think what to say next.
The boys over by the fountain howled over one of their comrades’ feats, providing a welcome distraction.
“They’re getting raucous early,” I murmured, glancing over my shoulder at them.
Dunreaven followed my gaze and watched for a little while. “Everyone’s looking for an escape,” he commented. “This seems the perfect place to find it.”
“I suppose.” I gave him a questioning look. “What are you trying to escape?”
“Nothing!” He chuckled.
“Of course. You’re trying to get into something, aren’t you?” An arch smile and a glance toward Millicent, who was trapped in a ballroom conversation with the Dowager Duchess of Portland.
Before he could respond, one of the young men—sharp-featured, florid with drink, clenching a cigarette in an amber holder between two teeth—swung around the punchbowl, shouting “Miiiiissss Daaaavieeeeessssss!” He was dressed as d’Artagnan, and his actions knocked his curly wig askew, revealing sand-colored hair underneath.
He bounded over, took the cigarette holder out of his mouth, and said, “Freddie Ponsonby-Lewis.”
“Not of the Vandemark Rubber family?” I responded.
“The same! The same!” Freddie grabbed my hand and pumped it vigorously. “We’re in business together, you and I. Don’t I feel the lucky one!”
In the background, I saw Toby grimacing.
“My, aren’t you just the berries! You know, I thought most of the girls in New York were pretty, but by Jove, if you can’t keep pace with most of ’em!” Freddie twirled me around so clumsily I nearly fell flat on my face. I was only saved by grabbing Dunreaven’s arm and steadying myself. At the same time, he reached out and caught me by the waist, leaving his hand on the small of my back just a little longer than was strictly appropriate. I should have stepped away as soon as I had my balance, but I didn’t.
“You’re too kind,” I said to Freddie, glancing at Dunreaven, who seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh. “And how did you find it there?”
“Brilliant place, really brilliant—just brimming with energy! Not like tired old London, ho ho! There’s so much pep and zip! Everyone’s doing something!”
“Are they? That’s good to know,” I said. “All we seem to hear about is how many people are out of work and how terrible it is.”
“Oh yes, that.” He shrugged and
briefly struggled for something to say. “Well … even then people are doing something. Loads of them selling apples and things all over the city. You never go hungry there!”
I had no idea how to respond to that. Dunreaven certainly wasn’t smiling now.
“And what brings you back?” I asked. “It doesn’t sound like you missed London.”
“Not a bit! But family, you know. Dad wants to concentrate on his chickens, so I’m running the business. Isn’t that a pip?” He spread his arms wide in a “ta-da” stance.
I blinked at him in horror. My future—my ability to move home and support myself and take care of Raymond—was now going to hinge on this person?
“Oh, sorry chap,” Freddie said, apparently only just noticing Dunreaven was there. “Pleased to meet you, Mr.—”
“Lord Dunreaven.” Jeremy rose to his full height, looking down at Freddie the way he probably eyed up wayward midshipmen. It certainly had the same effect: Freddie looked cowed.
“Oh, right, then.” Freddie nodded. “Well, if you’re not going to claim this dance with Miss Davies, I will.” He tried straightening his wig and held out a hand to me.
“So sorry, but I think I feel a twisted ankle coming on,” I said.
Freddie’s face puckered in confusion for a moment, then he smiled. “No trouble. The next one, then!”
“I’m afraid the next dance is claimed, old man,” said Dunreaven, patting him on the shoulder. “Better luck next ball.”
I glared at Toby, who finally extricated himself from the knot at the fountain and came over. “Come on, Freddie, you’re only half in the bag. Let’s see if we can get you really sozzled.” He hooked an arm around Freddie’s shoulders and led him away.
Dunreaven and I watched them go. I closed my eyes and thought of the flower opening while also counting back from ten.
“Might I presume to ask for the next dance?” Dunreaven asked, recalling me. “That is, if your ankle isn’t bothering you too much.”
“A miraculous recovery, it seems.” I desperately needed the distraction. I took his arm and we returned to the ballroom just as the band shifted its tempo downward.
Dunreaven and I swept into the stream of dancers. “Are you all right?” he asked. “He seemed to upset you.” He nodded toward the dining room and Freddie.
“Oh yes, I’m perfectly fine.” I gave him a bright smile he didn’t seem to believe.
“Are you really in business with him?”
“Not for long, I hope.” We danced in silence for a little while. I noticed he smelled faintly of lemon, with a spicy-musky undertone that reminded me of bay leaves.
“What you said earlier,” he began. “I think there may have been a misunderstanding. You don’t think Lady Millicent and I arrived together, do you?”
“Didn’t you? You came in together.”
“That’s just it. When I came in, she was waiting at the top of the staircase. She took my arm and we came down. What was I to do? I couldn’t very well toss her over the banister.”
“Why not? In those hoops she probably would have just bounced.”
He laughed.
“Anyway, you can come and go as you please with whomever you please. Makes no difference to me.”
“Doesn’t it?”
I swallowed hard and avoided the probing look he was giving me. “You should partner her next, or her nose will be well and truly out of joint. No more cozy teas.”
“A shame. I was hoping to monopolize you for a little longer.”
“And why should you want to do that?”
“Why do you think?” He grinned and I shivered a little. “But if our time here is to be so limited, could we meet again, elsewhere?”
I couldn’t help myself. Perhaps the champagne or that drink Toby had given me had gone to my head. Or perhaps the warmth of Dunreaven’s arm around me was making me do foolish things. “I suppose you could pay me a visit at my aunt’s.”
His eyes flashed—an eager look, like someone just presented with a wonderful gift. “Will you be in tomorrow?”
Part of me screamed, What are you doing? The last thing you need is more complications, but I couldn’t help it. I found myself saying, “I will.”
The song ended. As couples dispersed or regrouped for the next dance, Millicent appeared beside us with a sickly sweet smile and dangerously glittering eyes.
“My, what a charming pair you make! You do enjoy your titled gentlemen, Astra!”
“I enjoy a good dance,” I replied evenly. “All I’m after is a pleasant evening.”
“And I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding a man to provide it.”
Dunreaven’s lips tightened.
“You might need a man to do it,” I shot back. “I can manage on my own.”
Toby appeared, flushed, lifting a glass and crowing: “Off with her head!”
Millicent scowled at him. “Is this that cousin of yours, Astra? The one who never gets invited anywhere?”
“Clearly not—I was invited here,” Toby rejoined. “Though obviously they’ll invite anyone.” He gestured toward her.
“Toby, why don’t we go catch up?” Dunreaven suggested, as Millicent made a brief lemon-sucking face before giving me a cool once-over.
“Is that costume your maid’s doing?” she asked. “I’m surprised she didn’t dress you all in red. Or have you come to your senses and sent your pinko packing?”
“She won’t do that—Reilly’s too good with hair,” said Toby. “She might even be able to help you.” He stepped back slightly with a pitying look. “Then again, probably not. Astra, can I steal you before Porter or Freddie come forth to claim their dances?”
“Yes, please do.” I took his hand.
But before we could make ourselves scarce, Freddie came barreling out of the dining room alongside another young man, each of them carrying another friend piggyback style. The men getting the piggyback rides were urging their mounts on as if this were the Grand National.
“Tally ho! Over the hedge!” the boy Freddie was carrying shouted.
The foursome barreled straight through the dance floor, scattering Lindy-hopping couples. Millicent tutted in disgust. Toby chuckled, grabbed a glass of champagne from somewhere, and said, “I hope they invite Freddie again next year. This is the most fun I’ve had in ages!”
Chapter Seven
Although I didn’t get to bed until dawn, I was still up early enough to enjoy a late breakfast in a blissfully quiet house—Aunt El and the butler were out, and Toby and the housemaid were both sleeping off sore heads. Once fed, I headed for the drawing room and sat down with Mother’s ledger. After Freddie’s performance the night before, it seemed more important than ever to fully come to grips with my finances.
I was ticking along quite well when I was interrupted by a soft knock on the door.
“Yes?” I called, a little irritably.
Reilly came in and announced, “The Earl of Dunreaven is here, miss.”
“Bother,” I muttered. I hadn’t expected him to take me up on my invitation so quickly, and I was in no state to be receiving any guests. My hair was still twisted around pins and curlers, and I was wearing a cranberry wool skirt that was at least two years old, and a comfy but ancient gray wrap-front jumper. Not even any jewelry. At least I’d managed to get some lipstick on. Still, it was the sort of getup even a husband shouldn’t see you in, according to the magazines I read.
“Miss?” Reilly whispered. “I could tell him you’re not at home.”
“No,” I responded. “Not at home” was code for “Of course I’m at home; I just don’t want to see you.” It was a rebuff and a snub, and I didn’t want to deliver either. After all, I had invited him. I gestured to my hair. “Help me with this, please?”
Reilly retrieved a comb from her pocket and pulled out hairpins with one hand while combing out curls with the other. In no time, I at least looked passable.
“Show him in, please.” I stood, smoothing my skirt, m
aking the best of things.
Dunreaven entered, perfectly turned out in a gray wool herringbone suit with a red carnation in his buttonhole and crisp, pressed pocket square. He was carrying a small posy of ruffly, scarlet ranunculus. I felt scruffier than ever beside him, but as soon as he saw me, a soft look came over his face. It was as if he liked seeing me this way.
“Good morning, Miss Davies. I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Not at all, Lord Dunreaven. May I offer you some tea or coffee?”
“Thank you, no, I’ve had plenty of both already.”
I nodded to Reilly, who withdrew.
“I must apologize: you’ve caught me unawares this morning,” I admitted.
He shook his head. “No, I should be apologizing for coming so early and unannounced. But I brought a gift, in the hope I’ll be forgiven.” He held out the posy with a smile, and I accepted it. “I’ll have you know I scoured Covent Garden for those this morning. There were white flowers everywhere, but I think red is more your color.”
“You’re too kind. That wasn’t necessary.” Nevertheless, I was touched.
“It most certainly was necessary! My grandmother used to tell me that one can arrive somewhere unannounced or empty-handed, but never both.”
“What a very nice philosophy.” I laughed. Setting the flowers down next to the ledger, I gestured for him to sit. “Please do have a seat, Lord Dunreaven. Sofa or armchair, it’s your choice. They’re equally uncomfortable.”
“I’m sure I’ve felt worse,” he reassured me, choosing the sofa.
I took the armchair. “We must thank the armed forces for making you all stoics.”
“Yes, it does do that,” he agreed. “A naval career offers many things: discipline, stoicism, and a chance to see the world, warts and all.” I raised an eyebrow and he elaborated. “That is, to see the parts that aren’t kept quite so tidy for the tourists.” His face pinched momentarily. “You see things when you’re off the beaten track. Things both beautiful and … less so.”
I studied him for a moment. “Is that why you left the navy and came home?”
He shrugged. “I thought it might be nice to enjoy civilian life for a little while before I was called back into service.”
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