by Mary Balogh
No, Daisy was happy because she had seen Rose, and Rose was looking more lovely than even Daisy had thought possible.
She wore a white silk underdress overlaid with delicate lace. There were no fewer than three ruffles at the hem, and the neckline was low, though not indecently so. And the inestimable Penny had done marvels with her hair, which Lady Hetty had persuaded her to have cut, taking her out immediately after luncheon and only two hours after their arrival in the house in order to have the task accomplished and ready for that evening. Now Rose's hair was in soft blond curls around her face and along her neck.
Rose would be the sensation of the evening, Daisy was convinced. She could not fail to attract every eligible gentleman there even before their identity became fully known and the size of their fortune. The latter knowledge would bring a mixed reaction, of course. It was true that they were enormously wealthy. But it was true too that Papa had amassed that fortune in coal, and the ton would turn up their well-bred noses at that, she had heard.
As for herself, Daisy would dance the opening set with Lord Kincade as she had promised, and then she would find a quiet comer where she could sit undisturbed and observe Rose’s triumph. Rose had, of course, already met a few eligible gentlemen. There were Lady Hetty’s three sons, all of whom lived at home, and all of whom were older than Rose and younger than herself. But they seemed to be very much boys still, especially Albert, the oldest, who appeared to spend his days playing billiards.
And there was Viscount Kincade himself. Daisy had not failed to notice right from the start, and despite the fact that she had never seen his face unblemished, that he was an exceedingly handsome and distinguished gentleman. She liked his tallness and approved the wide set of his shoulders and the muscularity of his frame. And she had always admired blond-haired gentlemen.
But it was not merely his looks that had drawn Daisy’s interested attention. He was a viscount, the son and heir of an earl, and a gentleman in every sense of the word. He had been remarkably kind to her and Rose, though she acknowledged that he had been somewhat in their debt. And he must be an affectionate family man. His cousin had been only too pleased to oblige him; he obviously had a friendly relationship with his brother; and he must be fond of his sisters, if he was willing to accompany one of them to the ball in order to please the other.
There was only one blemish on Lord Kincade’s character, as far as Daisy knew; that was his penchant for spending nights on the road in the arms of dreadfully vulgar creatures like that Bessie at the Golden Eagle. But gentlemen were like that, she had heard. There were such things as wild oats that they felt compelled to sow before they were ready to settle into steady citizens. It was nothing to worry about.
He was, then, Daisy had concluded the night before while lying awake beside her sleeping sister at the Pulteney, ideal for Rose. Perfect. She would do everything in her power to promote the match. But she would not be blind to other possibilities. Before the Season was at an end, there would probably be a score of men clamoring for Rose’s hand. Between them, she and her sister would have to choose the most eligible, and one whom Rose favored.
Though there would surely be no problem in Rose’s favoring the viscount. He was, Daisy thought with sisterly smugness, quite gorgeous. She could feel his strong hands at her waist even now. Indeed, she had almost wished there in the barouche that the necessity of rushing to the rescue of the poor little dog had not been quite so urgent. She would not have minded at all lingering for a few more seconds. And she could feel now his strong hand holding hers and his warm lips kissing it. She had felt quite a thrill all the way to her elbow. And he had the loveliest smile. She had seen it only the once, just before he kissed her hand, but it had been directed wholly at her. She had felt almost weak at the knees for a moment.
Yes, even though they must keep an open mind for a few weeks at least, it seemed almost a foregone conclusion that Rose must succumb to the charm of Lord Kincade. How could she help it!
“Here I am,” Daisy called as she ran lightly, and in quite unladylike haste, down the stairs. “And here it is.” She waved the fan in the air. “It was on the washstand, as I thought. Would it not have been dreadful if I had forgotten it? I would have nothing to wave energetically before my face if someone makes me angry.” She laughed gaily.
She watched in some satisfaction as the Honorable Humphrey Parkinson offered his arm to Rose, and followed behind with Lady Hetty to the awaiting carriage.
***
At least he knew that his younger sister could still smile, Lord Kincade thought ruefully as he handed her out of his carriage and led her up the carpet-lined steps and into the hall of the Riplinger mansion. She had smiled quite dazzlingly at Arthur when the two of them had called at Julia’s to collect her. It had been a deliberately warm smile, of course, so that he would feel the more punished by being accorded only a stiff nod.
But Judith was unable to hide her excitement for all her attempts to imitate a dowager duchess. He supposed that it was natural that she should be excited at being taken to a ball again after a week during which her only outings had been in the last two days, and both times with one of her brothers for escort. But he had a gloomy premonition that there was more to her suppressed delight than just that fact. He suspected that Lord Powers was to be at the ball too. As was most natural, of course. That particular nobleman was almost invariably to be found wherever the gathering of young, gullible, and rich females was likely to be the thickest.
He would have to see how the situation developed. He had told Judith two afternoons before when they were out walking that he would not after all either go to Bath or write to their father. He would give her another chance to show that she could behave with the decorum and good sense that one might expect of a young lady of nineteen who was in her second Season. He had no way of knowing if Judith appreciated that second chance or not. She had not replied in any way to his announcement.
Well, Lord Kincade thought, removing his hat and cloak and glancing up the stairs to note that there was quite a cluster of people at the top, presumably waiting to pass the receiving line, if Judith chose to have a fit of the sullens whenever he was in the vicinity, that was her problem. He had far more pressing worries of his own. Not the least of which was the knowledge that Miss Daisy Morrison was to be in attendance at this very ball and that he was engaged to dance the opening set with her.
He wondered, trying not to get his hopes too high, if it would be possible to dance with her for the whole of half an hour and get away from her again without any disaster overtaking him. Not that it mattered, of course. By now, it seemed, everyone who mattered knew about the fiasco of the previous afternoon, and somehow—how did these matters ever become public?— everyone also knew that the lady who had so disgraced him was the same lady who had stood in her nightgown and her bare feet in the stableyard of a certain inn less than a week before defending his person from harm with her umbrella.
What could possibly happen to embarrass him further? Matters were at such a low ebb that surely they could only improve. But then the fates that had so sensibly decreed such a pattern of existence had surely never known Daisy Morrison. He would believe his fortunes to be on the upward rise when he knew the woman to be safely back in the country again, managing her family as she claimed to have been doing all her life. And even then he would never again feel quite secure in the dignity of his name.
Any nasty hope Lord Kincade might have harbored that his cousin would have been unable after all to wrest invitations for the Morrison sisters from Lady Riplinger were dashed as soon he and his brother and sister had reached the end of the receiving line and arrived in the doorway of the ballroom. She was there already.
How he knew so instantly was not clear. They were not close to the doorway, and there was no greater press of people around them than around many other groups of ladies. Humphrey had come, and Colonel Appleby was there, and young Hancock. That was all. But he saw her immediately anyway. S
he drew his eyes rather as an insect bite draws one’s scratching fingers. And in fact, he thought, the simile was very apt. The best way to handle an insect bite was not to handle it at all, but to ignore it, forget it was there. He liked the analogy as it applied to Daisy Morrison.
“There are the Misses Morrison with Hetty,” Arthur said, indicating the ladies with a beaming smile in their direction. “Let us go and pay our respects, Giles. You will like them, Jude.” He smiled down at his sister and patted her hand as it rested on his arm. She had pointedly ignored her elder brother’s, extended to her when they had reached the end of the line.
Well, Lord Kincade thought with a mental shrug, he had to dance the first set with Miss Morrison anyway. It was always as well to give the insect bite a good scratch before starting to ignore it. He followed his brother and sister across the room, nodding to several acquaintances as he went and seeing more significance in their smiles than mere social politeness.
Daisy Morrison was, of course, looking decidedly lovely and as far removed from the appearance of a chaperon as the equator from the north pole. He pitied from his heart the poor colonel, who was conversing with her and smiling at her and probably reserving a set of dances with her. He did not realize that he was far safer in battle waiting as the thundering hooves of a cavalry charge advanced on him. At least one recognized both the enemy and the danger in such a situation.
In fact, Lord Kincade thought as she looked up and noticed their approach, it would not be stretching the truth too far to say that she outshone her sister. Miss Rose Morrison, while quite exquisite in white silk and lace and with a new and becoming style of hair, was no more outstanding than a dozen other young ladies making their come-out. Miss Daisy Morrison, with her animated face and dazzling smile, was definitely one of a kind. Very definitely!
She and Arthur greeted each other as if they were long-lost friends, Rose and Arthur with a little more decorum. Arthur drew Judith forward as Daisy turned her smile on Lord Kincade.
“I am very pleased to meet you, ” she said to his sister. “Your brothers have been very kind to us, you see. And I am pleased for Rose's sake. You and she are of an age, though this is only Rose’s first Season. I am sure the two of you will get along famously.”
She beamed at Judith, happy now that she had a new victim whose life she could organize, the viscount thought nastily. He turned his attention to Hetty, who was always an entertaining companion as she never failed to have all the latest on-dits at her tongue’s end. Of course, he supposed he was the very latest and hottest on-dit, but it was soothing to hear within the next five minutes that there were a few other unfortunates in town who had involved themselves in scandals almost one-tenth as embarrassing as his.
He snapped to attention when he realized suddenly that Judith and Rose Morrison were in conversation with Lord Powers. He must remember that he was not here tonight either to enjoy himself or to indulge in gossip, however soothing to his battered self-esteem. He strolled over to than, smoothing the lace of his cuffs over the backs of his hands as he went.
“Ah, good evening, Powers,’’ he said, his voice at its most bored. “Quite the squeeze again, is it not?” He avoided his sister’s glowering eyes.
The baron bowed. “Kincade,” he said. “At each occasion of this kind one becomes convinced that one must have seen every lovely lady in the land. And yet each time one is amazed to find that there are other lovely blooms of whose existence one was unaware.” He inclined his head in Rose’s direction.
“Yes, indeed,” the viscount said. He smiled at Rose. “Did I hear Arthur soliciting your hand for the first set?” he asked, though he knew the answer perfectly well, having been standing beside her when Arthur had asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I am quite overwhelmed, my lord. My card is full already. Lord Powers was obliging enough to sign his name in the one remaining space just a few moments ago.”
Lord Kincade looked at the baron through lazy, heavy-lidded eyes. “You were fortunate to come along when you did, Powers,” he said. “And you, my dear?” He turned to Judith. “You have partners?”
“Of course,” she said. “I am afraid there is not one set free for you, Giles.” She looked defiantly at him. “Lord Powers has reserved two sets with me—a waltz before supper and a country dance after.”
“Enjoy yourself, then,” Lord Kincade said, noting that the musicians were tuning their instruments and their hosts standing in the doorway looking as if they were to begin the dancing at any moment.
“A nasty eye you have there,” Lord Powers said.
“Yes,” Lord Kincade agreed. “It posed quite a problem tonight. I had to choose a coat that would not clash with violet.”
Rose laughed. “It is looking far better than it did the first time I saw it,” she said.
“And doubtless far better than it would look if you had not had a champion to save you from a worse drubbing,” the baron said.
“Oh, quite,” Lord Kincade agreed. “But then my dilemma over colors might have been eliminated altogether, Powers. I probably would not have been in attendance at this ball or any other for some weeks to come.”
Lord Powers tutted. “It is too bad that these days one has to look to one’s safety not only on the open road but even in public and seemingly respectable inns,” he said.
“If you will excuse me.” Lord Kincade bowed. “I believe it is time to claim my first partner.”
“Enjoy yourself,” the baron said with a friendly smile. “We must hope that none of Gussie Riplinger’s many poodles wanders into the ballroom during the next half-hour, must we not, Kincade?”
The viscount laughed at the pleasantry about as heartily as Rose did.
For all that she had had little wish to come to London for the Season, and for all that she had no desire even now to attract a wealthy and noble suitor and make a dazzling match, and for all that she had been embarrassed out of all countenance by Daisy’s manner of acquiring them a sponsor, Rose was vastly enjoying the ball.
She was fortunate, she believed, to dance the opening set with the Reverend Arthur Fairhaven. She was feeling particularly nervous and self-conscious before the dancing began. But it was impossible to remain so with that particular gentleman, whose good nature and kindly smile would surely put a person at her ease if she were about to have a noose placed around her neck. Indeed, she thought with something of a jolt, that was the job of a clergyman, was it not?
There was the added consolation of knowing that the Reverend Fairhaven was not one of the more handsome gentlemen in the room. Oh, he had a pleasing countenance indeed, and his fair wavy hair looked baby-soft. And he was very tall—he topped his brother by at least three inches. But he was also a little too thin and there was a suggestion of a stoop about his shoulders, as if he were conscious of his great height and wished to be more on a level with ordinary mortals.
But the most endearing quality about him under the circumstances, Rose found, was that he could not dance. More than once during the country dance he began to skip off in a direction quite out of keeping with the pattern of the set, and the first time he had to twirl her down the set he tried to turn anticlock-wise when even a novice dancer should know that one always turned clockwise. Before the set was even half over, Rose was smiling and relaxed, her fears that her dancing skills were not up to such a distinguished gathering put entirely to rest.
“You can see why I decided on a career in the Church, can you not?” he said with a good-natured grin as he guided her back to Lady Hetty’s side after the music had stopped. “Nobody would employ me as a dancing master, alas.”
And Rose found that Lady Judith Fairhaven was quite prepared to accept her as a friend and drew her into a group of young ladies between sets. The talk, she discovered, was all centered on the gentlemen present and who was more handsome than who, and who danced better and dressed more fashionably than who, and who was reputed to be in search of a bride and who intent on mere dalliance.
/> “Colonel Appleby has fixed his interest on me,” Judith confided, “though he has not said anything openly yet. I just know. He is very handsome, I think, and very distinguished. But he is past thirty. Do you think that rather old?”
“If you would be comfortable with him,” Rose said, “then I do not think the age gap too great.”
Judith leaned closer to her. “My particular beau is Lord Powers,” she said. “He is very handsome and very charming, and his father is a marquess. And he loves me and is quite determined to marry me.”
“You are betrothed, then?” Rose asked.
Judith’s face became stormy. “By no means,” she said. “Dear Giles has taken it into his head that Lord Powers is a fortune-hunter merely because he has gambled away his fortune and merely because he tried to elope with Miss Hamilton last year—she is a great heiress, you know. But he has explained to me that he agreed to that only because she was very importunate and he was too chivalrous to deny her. He was vastly relieved when her papa discovered their plans and put a stop to them.”
“He would have married her just to avoid hurting her feelings?” Rose asked.
Judith ignored the question. “We are very much in love,” she said dramatically, her eyes wide on her new friend. “But Giles is being cruel and quite gothic and has forbidden me to be alone with him. But I must, Miss Morrison—may I call you Rose? I mean to steal away to the library with him after supper when we are supposed to be dancing. Will you help me? Tell Giles that I have torn my hem and gone to the ladies’ withdrawing room?”
“That would be lying,” Rose said. “And it is not proper to be alone with a gentleman, is it?”
“But we are being kept asunder by force!” Judith said tragically. “Giles had me locked up for a whole week before this ball.”