That, in regard to a lady so composed, so stalwart, and so well-educated! He’d discovered that evening that she was well-read. Truly well-read, not like some others who claimed to be great readers and had nothing to show for it because all they read were French novels. Miss Knightsbridge had a deep knowledge of botany and architecture, two subjects dear to his heart. Then, of course, she had already displayed her marked good sense regarding dogs and their kennels.
He smiled ever so slightly as he recalled the first evening they had met, and her hint that not everybody in the world was eager to know him. He’d been in such high dudgeon over it! Now, he could see that he had deserved the comment; he’d been rather rude. In truth, he’d been in a bit of a sulk, no better than a ten-year-old boy discovering his favorite toy broken.
In repayment for his well-earned comeuppance, he’d been the source of the gossip that now plagued her. If only he could go back! He might have realized he danced with an exceptional lady. He might have put aside his aggravation with his father to behold what was in front of him.
Hampton paused. He did not like where his thoughts led him. It was one thing to admire Miss Knightsbridge, but his admiration could only go so far. As with any other lady, he did not wish his admiration to be in any way singular. He had already recognized he would be in danger if he did not keep himself in check—how any other gentleman had escaped the charms of that heart-shaped face he did not know. But, that was to be put in the back of his mind and not considered again. Still, when she looked up at him as she discussed Palladian columns, he could not help but be aware of its effect.
Ah well, it was most likely his guilt that made him more admiring than he should be.
*
It was both a week of quiet and a week of busyness and confusion. Cassandra and her aunt did not have many engagements. The Hedleys’ ball had been cancelled at the last minute as Lady Hedley had fallen ill. Cassandra could not say that she was sorry for it—sorry for Lady Hedley’s illness of course, but not sorry to have missed her ball. The lady was known to be great friends with Lady Montague and that particular person had instilled a dread in her.
They had made various calls, but their timing was invariably off and they did not find many of their acquaintances at home.
On the other hand, the preparations for the ball at Marksworth House were in full swing. Racine led them all with a cool head, even when facing certain disaster.
The musicians who had been hired months ago had underhandedly accepted another job for more money. They would not say by who, nor would they be swayed by an increase in payment. Replacement musicians had to be speedily procured.
The ballroom floor had needed polishing, but one of the footmen had poured so much linseed oil on it that it was temporarily as slippery as a frozen pond.
The merchant who supplied their ices suddenly died and his son knew nothing about the order.
While Cassandra felt an uncomfortable flutter and Lady Marksworth noticeably paled at each alarming development, Racine only shook his head gravely and said, “I will see to it, my lady.” Somehow, that remarkable butler did see to it, and each new disaster was speedily dispatched.
Sybil came to see Cassandra three days before the ball. The fear of any more flying rocks having left them, they cozied up on their window seat overlooking the garden. Sybil said, “I was certain I would see you at the Hedleys’, did you have some other engagement?”
“The Hedleys’?” Cassandra asked. “We did not go because Lady Hedley was taken ill.”
“She did not appear so,” Sybil said. “How would you have heard such a thing?”
Cassandra felt as if her insides had taken flight and fought to break free of her. “We heard it from the lady’s secretary,” she said quietly. “A note was delivered.”
Cassandra and Sybil stared at one another. Sybil said quietly, “As it was not Lady Hedley herself, perhaps the secretary made a mistake?”
“That would be very odd, would it not? A secretary is not likely to mistake her lady as ill and notify only one guest of it,” Cassandra said. “No, if I had to guess, we were disinvited by way of excuse on account of the rumors and that stupid print.”
“But who could believe any of it?” Sybil cried.
“Lady Hedley is much in the company of Lady Montague, and I suspect I am not held in high regard in that lady’s eyes. She maintains strict opinions of the comportment of young ladies. I presume being talked about will not be one of her approved attributes.”
“I do not like Lady Montague,” Sybil said. “Not at all.”
“I suspect neither Lady Montague nor Lady Hedley will make an appearance at my ball. I cannot say I am sorry for it.”
Sybil’s face grew an alarming shade of pink and she balled up her tiny fists. “If I were a man, I’d challenge them all! I’d throw down the gauntlet and meet them at dawn!”
While Cassandra was much disturbed at discovering that she and her aunt had been purposefully excluded from the Hedleys’ ball, she could only be admiring of her brave friend. “There now, Lady Margaret Beaufort, I should not like to think of you shot at sunrise on some lonely expanse of green.”
Sybil’s fists unclenched. “Goodness, I am a goose. No matter, whether that note you received was or was not a mistake, you did not miss anything extraordinary.”
Sybil paused, seeming to think of something. “Oh! I had meant to tell you before I began thinking of duels I will never fight, that both Lord Lockwood and Lord Hampton were at the Hedleys’. Lord Hampton asked about you very specifically.”
“Asked about me? Why? Why should he ask about me?”
In truth, Cassandra was not certain what she thought about that. She was flattered, she supposed, that he might inquire about her. On the other hand, why should a lord be asking about a lady who did not attend? Did it not point to some singular notice?
“He asked how you got on,” Sybil said. “Naturally, I said you were quite well. Then, he hinted that he had seen the print that had gone round. I said, it was such a lot of nonsense that whoever had so wronged Miss Knightsbridge ought to be drawn and quartered.”
“You did not say such a thing,” Cassandra said.
“I did,” Sybil said, nodding vigorously. “I suppose I shan’t be surprised if some print is made out of that.”
“What did Lord Hampton say to your rather bold pronouncement?” Cassandra asked.
“He appeared thoroughly shocked and only nodded in agreement,” Sybil said.
“Heavens, perhaps I am glad that I did not attend,” Cassandra said.
“And here is another thing,” Sybil said. “Lord Lockwood would insist on taking me into dinner again. I fear his attention was too marked and, if that was not uncomfortable enough, my father viewed it in a very dim light.”
“That is three times he has taken you in,” Cassandra said.
“Yes,” Sybil said, “though I hardly count the first as he only rescued me and had not much to say for himself.”
“Do you like him, Sybil?”
Sybil reached for an almond biscuit and chewed it determinedly before she answered. “Truly, I have not allowed myself to consider it. There is too much against it—he is a gentleman of the pact and even if he were not, my father abhors his own father.”
“That is true, and in any case, if you wish to be a duchess whilst avoiding that ridiculous pact, you might marry Lord Burke. He is not so burdened, and you would be very merry at table as he regales you with stories of his cook.”
Both ladies dissolved into laughter at the thought of it. Though, under Cassandra’s laughter, there was intense trepidation. She and Lady Marksworth had been snubbed by the Hedleys, and she feared there might be more snubs to come.
Cassandra began to get the sickening idea that perhaps more snubs had already come. When they had made their calls and found ladies not at home, had they been at home? Had some of Lady Marksworth’s acquaintance refused her card? The excuses they had been given had seemed reasonable
, one lady had been called away to care for a sick aunt, another attended a wedding breakfast. But what if those reasons had been invented?
She could not know. She would never know. But the very idea was stinging. It was not so much for herself that it stung, it was for her dear aunt. The idea that she might have been a catalyst to causing her aunt pain and embarrassment was too awful to think of.
*
The day of the Marksworths’ ball had passed by in frenetic activity. Cassandra had felt a charge in the house, as if lightning had come through the windows and sparked its way through every room. Even the unflappable Racine had a look about him that she likened to a wary fox catching the scent of hounds. Cassandra had gone to no end of balls and had not had the first idea of what a hostess must go through. She would be more appreciative of their efforts in future.
Despite the atmosphere that had at times bordered on doom, all had been arranged. The musicians had arrived, the ices had arrived, hundreds of beeswax candles had been lit and the preparations for supper were well on their way in the kitchens. The ballroom itself, usually dark and empty, was ablaze with light and servants running this way and that while attending to final details.
Cassandra marveled at her dress. Lady Marksworth had spent a deal of time working with the dressmaker to achieve what she had in her mind and it was glorious. White satin, the skirt overlaid with the palest of pink gauze. Large white rosettes lined the hem of the satin and showed charmingly through the gauze. Smaller rosettes circled the sleeves and bodice. It was not overdone or overwrought, it was elegant in every respect. Having only so recently been a young girl racing round her estate and muddying up her clothes, she wondered at finding herself so attired.
Her nerves were at once heightened with excitement and trepidation. She knew herself to be an object of curiosity and so would be on display. But her own ball! At a ball such as that, the young lady would be the focus of the evening. Anybody wishing to stare might do so without risking disapproval. Of course, there were those who would likely not come because of the unwanted attention she had received. She knew the dreaded Lady Montague had been issued an invitation and even indicated she would attend, but that had been weeks ago. Cassandra felt certain the lady would not come now. Not with the talk that had gone round. Not Lady Montague. She also expected that Lady Montague’s friend Lady Hedley would not appear. She could not say that she would miss either one of them. But then, there might be others who would snub her.
All the gentlemen of the pact had said they would attend, a fact that Lady Marksworth had not informed her of until that very morning. Her aunt saw it as a particular compliment—it was not every hostess who could claim that six would-be dukes attended their ball. In fact, seven, as Lord Burke had accepted too.
For Cassandra’s own part, she was not certain what she thought of it. She could not say she would be sorry to have further conversation with Lord Hampton. Their last had been truly engaging and felt more effortless than the usual conversations she’d had with various gentlemen. She’d convinced herself that she enjoyed talking with him so thoroughly because he proved himself well-educated. She’d nearly given up denying her attraction to him, though nothing would come of it.
Having heard from Sybil that he had asked after her gave her an unnamed feeling. Worse, that he had obliquely referenced the embarrassing print, which she’d prayed had faded into obscurity by now.
She had the highest hopes that it had fallen out of favor as the latest gossip. Lady Marksworth had told her that she’d heard from a friend that Lady Montague’s refusal to come as a snake to the Blakeley’s mask was on everybody’s tongues just now. Cassandra, having experienced it herself, could not wish anybody to come under such scrutiny. Though, if somebody must, she could not weep over it being Lady Montague.
Lady Marksworth met her at the bottom of the stairs and led her to the hall. There they would stand as the carriages rolled up, greeting each and every guest. She expected she would be exhausted by the end of it, though the dancing would not even have begun.
“You could not look lovelier, my dear,” Lady Marksworth said.
Racine nodded as if seconding his mistress’s opinion.
They heard the distinctive clip-clop and stop of a carriage arriving and Racine threw open the doors.
The cold air rushed in and Cassandra was glad that Racine had the foresight to place braziers all around the hall.
Lord Dalton was the first to arrive and Cassandra could only be surprised by it. Of all the gentlemen of the pact, she would have expected him to be one of the last, pirate that he viewed himself to be.
She was much cheered to see Sybil and her mother and father, who had no need of a carriage as they were directly next door. Cassandra was certain that dear Sybil had hurried her parents along, knowing how nervous her friend must be on such a night.
Sybil squeezed her hand tight as they walked through.
Lord and Lady Sedway arrived and her old friend Anne looked just as elegant as ever. Cassandra began to calm her nerves; it was comforting to find so many friends already in the house.
Lord Lockwood and Lord Hampton arrived together. Cassandra began to think they must be particular friends as she had seen them so often together. Lord Hampton had appeared exceedingly reserved, even for him, and Cassandra had felt some sort of embarrassment at seeing him, though she could not pinpoint her feelings exactly.
Lords Cabot, Ashworth and Grayson all arrived on horseback. Lady Marksworth looked victorious—all six gentlemen of the pact had arrived, and they had arrived in good time. Cassandra, now that she viewed it, thought there was something odd in it. They had indeed arrived promptly. Why should these gentlemen be so eager to arrive? It was generally understood that a lady’s friends and family come at the designated hour and the rest of the guests begin arriving sometime after that. Single gentlemen were notorious for coming in at the last decent moment, all the while striking terror into their hostesses’ hearts. Why were they all so early?
Before she could contemplate it further, Lord and Lady Blakeley arrived. He appeared as dashing as ever, she wore a marvelous turban decorated with bright colored jewels. Though Lady Marksworth viewed the gentlemen of the pact as the coup of the evening, Cassandra thought it the reception of the Blakeleys. It was understood that they did not accept every invitation that came their way, they were the sort of couple that were so sought after that they could not, even if they’d wanted to. It was a testament to Lady Marksworth’s longstanding friendship with Lady Blakeley that they’d chosen to accept her invitation.
There was a lull in the arrivals which gave Cassandra a moment to catch her breath. She noticed a footman jogging up the steps. The boy handed a note to Racine, who brought it to Lady Marksworth.
She opened it and Cassandra noted her brow furrow.
“What is it, Aunt?”
Lady Marksworth said, “Lady Montague writes that she cannot attend after all. I am not surprised by it, or even disappointed, but I am surprised by her wording.”
“Why?” Cassandra asked in alarm. “What surprises you?”
“That she would have the nerve to reference gossip for one thing,” Lady Marksworth said, “and for another, she addresses me overly formally considering our long acquaintance. The thing is meant to insult and I believe I may cut her the next time I see her.”
“May I?” Cassandra asked, holding out her hand.
Lady Marksworth handed over the note and Cassandra scanned its contents.
Lady Marksworth,
In light of recent unfortunate events, it is of course impossible for me to attend you this evening. My sincerest regrets,
Harriet Downing
Cassandra understood the lady’s intent instantly. The words recent unfortunate events were clearly a reference to the gossip. Lady Montague wished to say that she could not see her way clear to notice a girl who had been so talked of.
Though she had been certain Lady Montague would not attend, and equally certain
the lady would not approve of her, seeing it so clearly spelled out on paper was humiliating.
“Never mind, Cass,” Lady Marksworth said. “Do not allow bitter old Harriet to ruin your evening. She has spent a lifetime ruining countless evenings for countless other people and I should not like you to join that sad company.”
Cassandra considered her aunt’s view and was cheered by it. It was true the note was humiliating, but it was not public. Nobody would miss the lady, and nobody would know what she’d written.
The clatter of horses at a fast trot caught Cassandra’s attention. A carriage barreled down the road, the coachman pulling on the reins in front of the house. Lord Burke jumped down to the road before the vehicle had barely come to a stop.
He bounded up the steps breathless.
“Dear Lord Burke,” Lady Marksworth said, laughing. “Do not hurry so, you are in good time.”
“My haste is for good reason, Lady Marksworth,” Lord Burke said. “I must insist on a private interview with you and Miss Knightsbridge this instant. It is quite urgent.”
Cassandra felt her knees go weak. Never had she seen Lord Burke in such earnest. “Is it my father?” she cried.
“No, God no, nothing like that,” Lord Burke said hurriedly. “Where can we speak privately?”
Lady Marksworth paled. Racine said, “The small drawing room, my lady. I will make your excuses at the door and show your guests to the ballroom.”
Her aunt nodded, and Cassandra dazedly followed Lord Burke and Lady Marksworth into the small drawing room. After the door was closed, Lady Marksworth said, “Whatever is it, Lord Burke? Do not keep us in suspense.”
Though the lord had been in such a hurry to get them away to the drawing room, now that he had them away, he seemed not to know where to begin.
“It is not my father or any other terrible news from Surrey?” Cassandra asked. News that her father had been taken ill, or worse, was the only news she thought could absolutely terrify her. Though the lord had already denied it was so, she must have a confirmation.
“I have had no news at all from Surrey,” Lord Burke said, rubbing his hands and looking decidedly uncomfortable. “I come on another matter entirely. One that I was apprised of only a half hour ago. My mother sent for me and showed me a note that was delivered to one of her friends. That friend is not as highly placed as she, was terrified of its contents, and planned to acquiesce to its demands.”
Regency for all Seasons: A Regency Romance Collection Page 104