Regency for all Seasons: A Regency Romance Collection

by Mary Lancaster

  Bellamy admitted him and showed him into Dalton’s library. One of the footmen came in with brandy, though it was well before noon. Edwin was beginning to think nobody in the house was acquainted with anything else. He could not remember ever being offered tea.

  Hampton waved the fellow off just as Dalton entered the room.

  “What now, Hampton,” Dalton asked, “your feet turning cold?”

  Edwin could only assume this was in reference to his request that they forgo the idea of damaging Miss Knightsbridge. “I should never have allowed the idea to go forward,” he said. “In any case, it is fortunate that you decided to take yourself off to your father, rather than enact the scheme.”

  “My father?” Dalton asked. “Why would I visit that old rotter just now?”

  “I do not claim to know… wait, you did not go to your father?”

  “Not a bit of it,” Dalton said, laughing.

  “But Bellamy said—”

  “Bellamy never says where I go. What sort of butler would he be?”

  Edwin felt as if a block of lead was slowly settling in his stomach. “So then, you went to Surrey?”

  “I did, and Tuttle has got a marvelous little document claiming Miss Knightsbridge was engaged to a local tradesman, but he broke it off. Can you guess why? It’s too amusing, really. The tradesman, and two other fellows, all turned up to apply to the Viscount at the same time. They discovered one another and they all broke it off with Miss Knightsbridge.”

  Miss Knightsbridge involved in three engagements? One to a tradesman, no less? It could not be true. Aside from the unlikelihood of any lady engaging herself to three different gentlemen, the elements of the story itself were too convenient.

  “Come now, Dalton,” Edwin said. “You know that’s a bit of fiction. Three gentlemen? Then they all conveniently turn up to see her father at the exact same moment? It’s absurd. That sort of contrivance belongs on the stage.”

  “Possibly,” Dalton said. “But the fellow swore an oath on it.”

  “Never mind what the fellow did,” he said. “I am certain he was well paid for his story and it is a story. We must put an end to this nonsense at once.”

  “I am afraid it is too late for that,” Dalton said. “It would be rather like closing the barn door after the horse has been out for hours. Tuttle was given his orders two days ago in Surrey.”

  “Good Lord, what have we done?” Edwin muttered.

  Dalton clapped him on the arm. “All we’ve done is give the wags something to talk about. We don’t do real damage to the lady. She will be known as having too many suitors, I suppose that is not any real crime.”

  “This is going to end badly,” he said.

  Dalton shrugged. “It was you, Grayson and Lockwood that came up with the idea. You know me well—once I am given a mission, I carry it out. If you did not want it accomplished so quickly, you should have asked Burke—he’d still be in his library making jokes and telling stories about his ridiculous cook.”

  “Come now, Dalton, you can recall Tuttle from his work, I am certain of it.”

  Lord Dalton picked up a sheet of paper from his desk. “I do not claim to understand Mr. Tuttle’s methods, but he is all efficiency. Along with a shocking bill, he writes that the story has taken flight and no more need be done by him.”

  “Blast,” Edwin said.

  Dalton crossed his arms and surveyed his friend. “You seem to take an inordinate amount of interest in Miss Knightsbridge’s reputation. A suspicious amount of interest.”

  “There is nothing suspicious in it, I assure you,” Edwin said hurriedly. “I simply do not like that we act in a less than gentlemanly manner.”

  “Well if that’s all it is,” Lord Dalton said, “I would not worry your head over it. Nobody will know we had anything to do with it, Tuttle has seen to that.”

  *

  Edwin had left Dalton in a daze. He carried a deep sense of shame from the house and it was a feeling he was not accustomed to. He had done things in the past that he’d considered not quite right, but this! To be part of such a low scheme! And why? Because his pride had been stung. It had been childish and not worthy of a gentleman.

  The only bright spot in the whole thing was that he was certain if he just had time to think of a solution, he would find a solution.

  He’d sat all evening in his library, Havoc happily gnawing on his boot, as he thought of possible actions he might take. At least he’d tried to think of actions he might take. That none occurred to him had come as a shock—no matter how badly a thing unfolded, there was always something that might be attempted. His shock began to fade as he considered the nature of slander and gossip. It was an enemy that could not be caught. It wafted through the air invisible and all that could be seen of it were those who had been laid waste by it. It could not be subdued, nor struck down, nor chained. In that way, it was more deadly than any Napoleon.

  Miss Knightsbridge was about to encounter a disaster she had not earned, and he was the author of it. It was unlikely anybody would ever discover he was behind the stories told of her, but what matter? He would know it, and it would sit on his shoulders like an uncomfortable friend.

  But then, the story Dalton had related, an engagement to three gentlemen and one of them a tradesman to boot, was so outlandish. Might it not be taken as such and dismissed by all who heard it?

  Edwin’s mood was buoyed by the idea, though the feeling did not last. It was just as likely that various gossipers would glory in the tale and gleefully embellish it. Only last year, Prinny had been reported on his deathbed when in fact he’d been jolly at the theater and Lady Cattrail was reported to have left her husband when she’d only gone off to care for a sick niece.

  As the moon hung full outside of his window, he was forced to conclude that Miss Knightsbridge would not come through unscathed.

  The only question left was what he could do about it.

  Lady Montague’s ball was on the morrow, and if ever there was a condemning woman it was her. If Lady Marksworth and Miss Knightsbridge remained unaware of the tale that swirled around them, they might just attend and find it out there.

  Edwin did not see how to stop it, but he was determined to go and do what he could.

  *

  Cassandra finally had the determination to challenge Peggy on which dress she would wear. She had been decided on wearing a cream silk with lovely rose-colored flowers embroidered around the hem. Peggy had been equally determined on the white satin with a pale-yellow gauze overlay, going so far as to claim the cream dress had been mysteriously misplaced.

  After a half hour of arguing that dresses do not fly off on their own and then finally hinting that if the dress had really disappeared, Peggy would be responsible for it, the cream-colored gown had been produced.

  Peggy had not accepted defeat with any sort of grace and for the hundredth time Cassandra thought she was the most confounded girl alive. She was certain other people did not wrestle with their maids in such a fashion.

  Nevertheless, she was in the cream with the pink rosettes and in the carriage, on her way to the Montagues’ ball.

  “Lord Montague is a friendly enough fellow,” Lady Marksworth said, “though Lady Montague is a bit of a beast.”

  “A beast?” Cassandra asked.

  “Do not be frightened by her,” Lady Marksworth said. “I knew her as Miss Harriet Wellburne in our youth. She was forever putting herself forward as the arbiter of how one should go about things, a bit of a prig, actually. I remember her whispering all over town about poor Miss Jumble and that lady’s lack of a wardrobe. It was Harriet’s opinion that if one could not afford a suitable range of attire, one should not come for the season.”

  Cassandra felt very badly for Miss Jumble, as the lady reminded her very much of her friend Lily Farnsworth. Poor Lily thought a new ribbon would mask an old dress, but Cassandra supposed that was not to be when one entered the confines of London.

  “Do not pity Mis
s Jumble, however,” Lady Marksworth said. “She is the Duchess of Somerston now and can have as many dresses as she likes.”

  “The Duchess of Somerston?” Cassandra said, both glad and amused. “Is that not Lord Burke’s mother?”

  “Just so,” Lady Marksworth said. “For all Harriet’s complaining on the subject, Miss Jumble’s very modest wardrobe did not show her to disadvantage. She was a darling girl and the duke could not have cared less about her dresses.”

  Cassandra was much cheered by the tale and would be sure to tell it to Lily Farnsworth. Though, she did feel a flutter of nerves to encounter a woman such as Lady Montague, despite Miss Jumble’s success.

  “As for Harriet and I, when I discovered she was impugning Miss Jumble’s right to a season, I told her in no uncertain terms that she’d gone wrong. I am not so certain she has ever forgiven me for that. Though we both invite each other to large parties, I have never been asked to dine here, nor have I asked her to Marksworth House.”

  “Goodness,” Cassandra said.

  “Never mind,” Lady Marksworth said. “It is the way of the world. One may not adore all of the ton, but they’re what we’ve got and so we must make the best of it. What else are we to do? Sail to Massachusetts and have tea with some awful Americans?”

  Cassandra did not know, but she wondered if awful Americans might be a deal less frightening than Lady Montague.

  *

  The Montagues’ ball was to be a large one, but unlike the other large events they had attended, Cassandra and Lady Marksworth did not sit overlong in their carriage. As far as Cassandra could tell, it was not because there were less carriages lined up, but because the footmen were many and moved with military precision. She supposed Lady Montague would not tolerate anything less than perfection.

  They were helped down in good time and entered the house. Ahead of her, Cassandra could see the great Lady Montague herself. She was a regal-looking woman, wearing an intimidatingly high silk turban sprouting ostrich feathers. The headdress helped her appear seven feet tall; her expression was one of condescension, as if to say, “How fortunate you must feel to have been granted leave to enter my house.”

  Lady Marksworth handed over her invitation. The butler intoned, “Lady Marksworth and Miss Knightsbridge.”

  There was a sudden hush around Cassandra that she could not account for at all. Lady Montague looked down her rather long and thin nose. She curtly nodded and then turned away.

  Cassandra heard her aunt say, “Goodness, Harriet, you might smile.”

  As they passed the lady into the hall, Cassandra noted that Lady Montague pressed her lips into a hard, thin line upon hearing the comment. In fact, she appeared rather incensed. How extraordinary that the two ladies should maintain such a long-standing frostiness to do with poor Miss Jumble all those years ago.

  *

  Cassandra had got her card, and then been very happy to hand it over to Lord Burke for the first. Though he was such a genial gentleman, she got the impression that he might be somewhat under the weather. He looked more serious than was his usual mien.

  Cassandra’s dance card filled up quickly, though she could not help but notice the glances she received from some of the other ladies. Why did they stare so? She surreptitiously checked her dress to ensure there was no stain or tear, but it looked well. Could it be jealousy? She did not see why it should be so, she was by no means the beauty of the evening and there were certainly enough gentlemen to go round.

  Though she had been surprised at the looks she received, she was even more surprised to see Lord Hampton make his way to her so determinedly, and then take the dance before supper. He had filled in his name quickly and then departed with all haste.

  She might even say the lord had looked embarrassed to see her again. She supposed she felt the same—she had thought it lucky that they had hit on the welcome subject of dogs at the Sedways’ dinner, but now she began to wonder what other topic might take its place. Certainly, they could not return to talking of dogs—she was rather afraid everything that could be said on the subject had been said.

  On the other hand, she felt strangely pleased that he would take her into supper. Or, if not pleased, then something she could not exactly identify. Some hint of nerves, she supposed.

  The opening of the ball had not passed as Cassandra expected. She had looked forward to Lord Burke’s amusing tales of his cook, but he told none. She had initially suspected he was under the weather and now she was certain that was the case. He was very subdued and not joking at all. She thought it a recommendation of his character that, feeling as poorly as he must, he was so entirely solicitous of her. He inquired how she did, and then nodded gravely when she said she did quite well.

  After the first, she was led round the ballroom floor by a variety of gentlemen she had not encountered before. She did not know if these new gentlemen were all friends, and therefore in the habit of landing on the same subjects, but down to a man they were all remarkably interested in Surrey. Was she indeed from that county? What sort of society did she keep there? How did Miss Knightsbridge spend her time there? Was she fond of horses? What did she think of the shooting in Surrey?

  She had answered all of their questions, careful to leave out any penchant for riding Juno like the wind on an early morning ride or standing by her father while he taught her how to handle a fowling piece.

  She had nearly lost her patience with Mr. Mumsford.

  “I only wonder, Miss Knightsbridge, how you find the general company in Surrey?”

  Good Lord. He had already asked if she had many acquaintances there and if the gentlemen to be found in that neighborhood were amusing.

  “The company is pleasant,” Cassandra said.

  “I suppose the shooting is very good?”

  And here they were back to shooting, a topic touched on twice already.

  In the end, she felt all of the gentlemen had read the same book on making casual conversation at a ball, and it was not a very interesting book.

  Her dance with Lord Hampton had felt as if they went back in time. He was just as grave and silent as he had been at the Bergrams’ ball. This time, however, she did not press him to speak. She had been speaking all night and had not the least inclination to discuss Surrey one more time.

  Lord Hampton led her into supper amongst looks all around. Cassandra supposed that was to be expected—all eyes were perennially trained on the gentlemen of the pact.

  After a long silence, the lord said, “Forgive me, I have not even asked the most civil of questions. How do you do this evening, Miss Knightsbridge?”

  “Very well, my lord,” she said, relieved he had chosen to say anything at all. “I presume you have fared well since the Sedways’ dinner?”

  “Well enough,” Hampton said. “I wonder, how do you find London these days?”

  How did she find London? How was she to find London? It was as it ever was, she supposed.

  “Town is of course different from home, though it is welcome in its own way,” she said. It was a nonsensical answer to a rather nonsensical question.

  “Home, yes, Surrey,” Lord Hampton said quietly.

  “Indeed, Surrey,” she said, confounded by the near constant allusions to Surrey this night. Seeing that it would be she who must find a subject to engage, and having had time to think about it and not coming up with anything other than dogs, she said, “As we did speak of kennels at our last meeting, I wonder, my lord, if you have given any thought to this latest idea of using fountains for drinking water, rather than troughs?”

  “Ah,” Lord Hampton said, seeming to shake off his gloom, “Bedford’s idea. He thinks the circulation of the water keeps it uncontaminated. I am inclined to agree.”

  “I, too,” Cassandra said. She noted that the couples around her had gone silent, as if they listened to her conversation. She could not say that she wished all and sundry to hear her views on a dog’s water fountain, but neither was she willing to allow the conv
ersation to lapse into silence again.

  She said, “I have spoken to my father about it and he agrees, though it will be a large project to endeavor.”

  Lord Hampton was silent for a moment and Cassandra noted that he stared hard at a gentleman across from him until that gentleman turned away. Finally, he said, “I have in my possession written plans on how it may be accomplished in a kennel already built. Lord Trebly is most welcome to them.”

  And so they went on, speaking of kennels and their design. She did not know if the lord had any other interests, but if he did, she did not know what they were.

  There were moments when the lord seemed to forget himself. In those moments, Lord Hampton appeared at his ease. She supposed it was the way he looked at home, surrounded by his family, or sitting in front of a fire in his library.

  It was a deal more attractive than his original stiff way of going on. In truth, it was very attractive. It would be all too easy to forget the pact, though she made a concerted effort to remember it. There had been something in imagining the lord at ease in his house that had caused that now familiar soft shiver to run down her spine, as if a light touch traced it.

  *

  Edwin left the Montagues’ in a fury. It was all too obvious what had occurred. Dalton’s ridiculous story had made the rounds thoroughly.

  He’d noted the various ladies staring at Miss Knightsbridge, like so many cobras ready to strike. Dressed in silk and pretty they might be, but poisonous all the same.

  He’d noted the gentlemen who filled up Miss Knightsbridge’s card. Those gentlemen were, with the exception of Burke, the type who would find amusement in going to their club the next day and describing their encounter with the Miss Knightsbridge everybody talked of. Burke, at least, he thought he could trust not to be so callow. In truth, Burke had seemed more serious that was his usual wont, and Edwin got the idea he’d heard the rumor and was displeased by it. For all Burke’s levity, he was a practical and well-meaning gentleman and was unlikely to put much stock in the story. Edwin would be ashamed for Burke to discover how the rumor had begun.