Regency for all Seasons: A Regency Romance Collection

by Mary Lancaster

  Any mention of marriage, or of gentlemen in general, sent her thoughts racing in one direction. That she still could not entirely remove Lord Hampton from her mind felt the worst betrayal. He had no business there and she both loved him and hated him. She loved the lord that had lived on in her mind, her own creation of goodness with a handsome face. She hated the real lord, who’d so glibly changed her life. She would not risk her heart again. She would never allow herself to be vulnerable to another’s schemes. Trebly Hall was safety and that was where she would stay.

  To waylay the Dowager in her talk of marriage, Cassandra said, “I know my father was in a debt to you in his youth, but I wonder what the circumstances were.”

  The dowager laughed and said, “I see he has failed to expound upon the subject. Well, I suppose there is no harm in telling you, it is ancient history.”

  Cassandra listened in fascination as the dowager told the story of a long-ago card game.

  It had all begun at a house party at the Duke of Gravesley’s estate. As was often the case at such house parties, there were too many women and not enough gentlemen and so a few fellows nobody knew well were scrounged up. Gravesely brought in Mr. Shine, a gentleman known to both he and the Duke of Dembly through various business ventures.

  Cassandra leaned forward. She knew the Duke of Gravesley to be Lord Lockwood’s father and the Duke of Dembly to be Lord Ashworth’s father. Cassandra thought back to Sybil’s tale of her father despising both the Lord’s fathers. Certainly, the circumstance must be connected.

  She asked, “Was Lord Blanding there as well?”

  “Indeed, he was a principal player in the drama,” the dowager said. “How did you know?”

  “Just a guess,” she said.

  The dowager continued with her tale.

  All might have proceeded in the usual fashion of a house party if it had not been for the weather. It poured rain for days and the gentlemen, having no recourse to shooting, began to gamble their time away. At first, it was for small sums, but Mr. Shine kept pushing the bets ever higher.

  The dowager, then the Duchess of Carlisle, had pressed her duke to withdraw. They played vingt-et-un, a game too reliant on chance to risk great sums. Her husband, being older than the other players, was therefore equipped with more sense and did end his time at the table. The dowager had felt, initially, that her work was done. She’d rescued her husband and that was the entire realm of her responsibility.

  But then, she could not ignore the play, and the stakes, and in particular a young viscount who was taking a drubbing. She saw all too clearly that he should withdraw from further play, and just as clearly that he would not. There is nothing so foolish as a baron or a viscount of tender years attempting to impress.

  She began to watch the game more closely, and her sharp eyes picked up what others could not. Someone had very cleverly marked the cards. She had marched over to the card table and said, “Goodness, you all really ought to get a new set. These have been in the hands of children, I think. See here how the crown has one extra jewel on the right side, shaped very like a seven, and then there embedded in the crest, the smallest heart? Some little blighter has a fine hand and is fond of a good joke—I would guess that card is the seven of hearts.”

  She need not have said more. Everybody at the table comprehended that the cards had been marked. Naturally, they all had their suspicions, and those suspicions were confirmed when, hours later, Mr. Shine departed the house under darkness and was never heard from again.

  Mr. Shine had not got away entirely scot free. The dowager had felt he might abscond and had waylaid him before he did. She’d recovered the money the viscount had lost.

  That should have been the end of it, but Lord Blanding got the idea that Gravesley and Dembly had known Mr. Shine was a card sharp, both of those gentleman’s estates being on shaky footing at the time. He began to give the vaguest hints that the three were in league.

  The Dowager could see a storm coming and persuaded her husband that they ought to depart, rather than get swept into a feud. She’d also convinced him to bring along the young Viscount Trebly.

  “Your father was quite spirited about it,” the Dowager said now. “He thought he ought to stay and see the thing through. I counseled that he’d better get in my carriage and he would thank me later.”

  “And so he did thank you,” Cassandra said, “when he realized you had removed him from an argument that I believe still goes on to this day.”

  “Just so,” the dowager said. “I understand that after we left there were various threats of duels. Fortunately, they all had a care for their own person and did not carry through with it. Lord Blanding left in a fury and I hear he still mentions the event from time to time.”

  “Goodness,” Cassandra said. “It is so extraordinary to think of my father as being young and getting himself embroiled in such a situation.”

  “Ah, but that is youth, is it not? Mistakes are made, judgments are faulty. It is only with age that one can reflect back and see it was all a lot of nonsense. If only one could comprehend it at the time, there would be far less heartache in the world.”

  Cassandra had the uncomfortable feeling that the Dowager no longer referred to her father. She felt the Dowager attempted to tell her that the uncomfortable situation she found herself in now would fade with time. That when she was older, it would not seem as significant. She did not know if that were true, but it seemed impossible that she would ever look upon this period of her life with any sort of equanimity.

  *

  The many letters the dowager and her secretary shot off descended upon London and its environs like a flock of birds settling on tree branches. All those who had been swayed by Lady Montague had initially fallen to her wishes because they perceived her as powerful. Lady Montague had been thoroughly trumped by the Dowager Duchess of Carlisle.

  As often happens with the downtrodden, those who had acquiesced to Lady Montague’s demands harbored a deep resentment over it. Now, having been given leave to overthrow those earlier forced opinions and a shield to hide behind by way of the dowager, they took full advantage of it.

  The talk in various drawing rooms generally unfolded as, “I was never really convinced of the story, you know. It seemed a bit too contrived.”

  “Indeed! And now that I hear the real circumstances, it bears the ring of truth.”

  “To think, Miss Knightsbridge saved the dowager’s life! I would not go in for my own daughter picking up a fowling piece, but nevertheless…”

  “Yes, nevertheless.”

  There were, perhaps, only a handful of people in England whose judgments went absolutely unquestioned—the Dowager Duchess of Carlisle’s were one of those. It was generally accepted that Miss Knightsbridge had been wronged, and while unusual that she shot birds, that skill had saved the dowager.

  Equally interesting to the ton was the role the gentlemen of the pact had played. There was outrage and caution. Every mama was torn—on the one hand, those gentlemen remained eminently eligible. On the other, did they dare allow a daughter to fall victim to them? Miss Knightsbridge had been fortunate that the dowager had stepped in on her behalf. Would another girl be so lucky?

  If the gentlemen of the pact had been stared at before, it was nothing compared to what they experienced now.

  Lord Dalton took himself off to the seaside. Lord Cabot conveniently decided to visit his family’s estate in Scotland. Lord Grayson was suddenly inspired to visit an old aunt in Sussex. Lord Ashworth remained in London, but removed himself to a notorious gambler’s house, so he might direct all his efforts to gaming rather than dancing.

  It was only Lord Hampton and Lord Lockwood who stood firm. Lord Lockwood felt a peculiar need to attempt to explain himself to those he encountered, in particular, Miss Knightsbridge’s friend Lady Sybil. That the explanation did not suit the lady, he should have known. Though, he’d been rather surprised when she said that if she were a man, she’d challenge him to a d
uel.

  Lord Hampton made the rounds to bolster the dowager’s claims. While he had not been believed when he’d first owned the deed, he was believed now. He got the feeling that had he not been in line for a dukedom, many a hostess would have thrown him out on his ear.

  Still, he did not care much for that. He only waited to hear from his grandmother the news from Surrey.

  All of the gentlemen of the pact, though choosing to take different routes at that particular moment, had waited with dread to hear from their fathers. It was impossible that the old men remained unaware of what had transpired. There was even the suggestion that they’d all arrived to London. And yet, the silence was deafening.

  Edwin felt it was rather like waiting for the ax to fall. He did not know when, but fall it would.

  *

  Cassandra was in the drawing room, watching with mirth as George took May’s favorite blanket and dragged it around the floor with an air of superiority. Poor May appeared helpless in the face of this gambit. Though both dogs must be aware of their relative sizes, George’s bold determination and out-sized confidence had overcome the giant mastiff at every turn. He’d gleefully lie down in the middle of May’s sofa, and May would squeeze to one side rather than pick up the Pomeranian by the scruff of the neck and throw him off, as she was perfectly capable of doing. George would find the sunniest spot on the carpet and stretch out his full length, lest May find any bit of sunshine to warm herself. George regularly stole a biscuit off the tea tray, a crime May would never dream of committing, and then gleefully chewed it up while staring into the mastiff’s eyes. George had become the master of the house and May served at his pleasure.

  Cassandra heard the clatter of horses on the drive and walked to the window. She was escorted by both May and George, George muscling his way past May to jump on the sofa for a better view.

  A fine coach emblazoned with a coat of arms in gold had stopped at the door. Cassandra took a sharp breath. A lion and a unicorn—it was the royal coat of arms.

  What on earth?

  Before she could speculate on why such a vehicle would have come up their drive, she remembered the dowager. Of course the lady was connected everywhere and would be well-known to the Prince Regent.

  But goodness! Were they to have a royal visitor? Maidencraft would collapse in a heap over it.

  The door to the carriage opened, but the only person to emerge was an exceedingly tall and elegantly attired footman.

  The young man made his way to the door. Cassandra noted the hint of surprise in Maidencraft’s voice when he opened it and viewed what had arrived on the doorstep. If Cassandra hoped for anything further she was disappointed—no sooner had the footman got out of the coach but he was back in it again and the carriage clattered away.

  Maidencraft entered the drawing room bearing a silver tray. He appeared pale, as she would have expected him to after encountering a royal carriage so near to his person.

  He walked toward her and Cassandra said, “The dowager is in the library. Surely you might interrupt her to deliver the letter? I am sure she would not mind it.”

  Maidencraft cleared his throat and looked about and finally said, “It is addressed to you, Miss Cassandra.”

  Cassandra laughed. “Surely not.”

  As the butler did not seem to be engaging in any sort of levity, Cassandra quickly crossed the room and examined the paper. It was indeed addressed to her.

  “Why?” she said. “Whatever for?”

  Maidencraft did not appear to have an answer for the peculiar circumstance, but merely held the tray out and when she had taken the letter, bowed and closed the door behind him.

  Cassandra sank down onto a chair, while George and May settled round her feet. She opened the letter.

  The royal crest topped the paper. Underneath, she read:

  It is the Prince Regent’s pleasure to request the attendance of the Dowager Duchess of Carlisle, Viscount Trebly and the Honorable Cassandra Knightsbridge to an evening ball to be held on 16th of April at nine o’clock at Carlton House in recognition of Miss Knightsbridge’s service to the crown upon defending our Dowager Duchess of Carlisle at great risk to her own person.

  The ball is further sponsored by the dukes of the realm: Carlisle, Gravesley, Dembly, Bainbridge, Wentworth, and Glastonburg.

  George P R

  The paper fluttered to Cassandra’s lap. Before she could think through what the invitation meant, the dowager herself barreled into the room.

  “Maidencraft informs me we have had an unusual letter delivered?” she said. “He was so overcome by it that I almost sent a footman for smelling salts.”

  “I might need them myself,” Cassandra said quietly.

  The dowager crossed the room with her usual energy. “Let us see,” she said.

  She scanned the invitation. “Most excellent,” she said softly.

  “But it is not excellent!” Cassandra said. “I have no wish to be made a spectacle of. It is most strange that the Prince Regent should think of such a thing. As well, why should the further sponsors, as they are called, be the fathers of the gentlemen of the pact? I do not even know what the term further sponsors means!”

  “It means nothing at all,” the dowager said, “other than to apprise people of the support you have garnered from those gentlemen.”

  “I will have to send my regrets and certainly my father will wish the same. Of course, I am honored that such a great personage should take an interest in me, but I could not bear it.”

  “My dear,” the dowager said kindly, “one does not send one’s regrets to the Regent. This is less an invitation and more a summons. I am afraid you have no choice but to attend.”

  Though Cassandra knew the dowager was correct, she still searched her mind for a way out of going. It was one thing to know that letters flew hither and thither proclaiming her innocence, but she did not feel up to presenting herself for inspection.

  “Now, I would like to have a look at your dresses before we make our way to London. Oh, and I’d rather not go to the bother of opening up my house and I have no particular wish to stay with my grandson at this moment. Do you suppose Lady Marksworth would mind my staying at Marksworth House? Will you see to it, my dear?”

  Despite Cassandra having no wish to go to London or Carlton House, it seemed she would go. The dowager raced ahead with plans and it rather struck her as a galloping horse. There did not seem to be a way of slowing the lady down.

  At least she had a week before she must go and face down the ton.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The gentlemen of the pact who had found it convenient to absent themselves from London had all been tracked down and been delivered a directive. It was not one that any of them could have anticipated, its bizarre nature too far removed from any kind of prediction.

  They had gathered at Dalton’s house to see what could be done about it, though Edwin was certain nothing could be done. Once Prinny got an idea into his head, it was near impossible to get it out, and the Regent did enjoy a good joke.

  The gentlemen who had gathered round the table in Dalton’s library generally enjoyed a good joke as much as their Regent, though perhaps not as jovially when the joke was upon themselves.

  “It cannot hold,” Lockwood said. “I expect that once he’s had his amusement, we will be delivered of the real invitations.”

  “It will hold,” Edwin said. “Mark me, it will hold.”

  “It’s outrageous,” Dalton said, downing his brandy. “How is an earl expected…”

  “Just like the rest of us, I would guess,” Ashworth said.

  “Perhaps we should cease wallowing in our misery and be grateful that the Regent has taken up Miss Knightsbridge’s cause,” Edwin said.

  “She hardly needs it at this point,” Cabot said. “She’s been proved an innocent victim, we are condemned and, if that were not enough, suddenly she’s a heroine!”

  “That’s right,” Grayson said. “One minute she’s
to be censured for wielding a shotgun and the next it seems the height of good sense!”

  “She did rescue my grandmother with that gun,” Edwin said drily.

  “I’m all for supporting Miss Knightsbridge and taking upon me any condemnation,” Dalton said, “but this crosses a line.”

  “Perhaps,” Edwin said. “But we will do as we have been commanded. There’s no escaping it. Have you seen the real invitation? The one sent to everybody else? Our father’s names are on them.”

  “They are all in league!” Lockwood said.

  “Apparently,” Edwin said. “Though we all must have known that the silence from our fathers must portend some incoming disaster.”

  “I, for one,” Cabot said, “plan on drinking a vast quantity of wine.”

  “That will not be wise,” Edwin said. “We will have much work to do.”

  “I still say we should consider burning down White’s,” Lockwood said.

  As nobody concurred with that daring plan, Lord Lockwood drained his brandy.

  *

  The viscount had been out on the estate, making his rounds to various tenants, and so it had been some hours before he arrived back to the Hall and was apprised of the remarkable invitation that had arrived from the Prince Regent.

  Now, Maidencraft oversaw the footmen serving dinner, as the viscount said, “I’d rather shoot them all, but I suppose a ball will have to do.”

  “I think it will do very well,” the dowager said. “Though, my dear viscount, I pray you will not let on your views of our Regent?”

  “That he is a fat fool?” the viscount said.

  There was a clatter of a serving spoon, but Jimmy quickly recovered.

  “I’ll say nothing about it,” the viscount said. “In any case, it appears he finally does something useful.”

  “You will return to town victorious,” the dowager said to Cassandra. “Though I know you are not particularly enthusiastic over the idea.”

  Cassandra had used the day to think over going back to face the ton. While she could not say she was enthusiastic, her opinion had somewhat shifted.