by Archer, Kate
Kitty smiled. “You refer to my study of the hemi-parasitic properties of Cornish eyebright,” she said.
Sir John nodded. “On gorse, I presume,” he said.
Kitty nodded, fascinated by this person.
Penny looked back and forth between them indulgently. “So,” she said, “as I think you will have much to discuss…Sir John? Perhaps you might take supper?”
Sir John nodded, as grave as a vicar, and put his name down. He bowed and walked away.
“What do you think, Kitty?” Penny asked. “Have I not done a bit of brilliant matchmaking? I met him at a dinner a few nights ago and did not understand half of what he said. I instantly thought of you. What Lord Cabot is to my love of horses, he is to your love of books.”
“It is far too early to speak of matchmaking, Penny,” Kitty scolded. She relented and said, “Though I will be most interested in a conversation with the gentleman.”
Penny smiled knowingly and then said, “What say you, Lady Penderton?”
The baroness smiled. “I’ve not much to say this moment. I have seen him last year at some rout or other, though did not know anything of him before then. I believe his title and his money spring from the continent. Somewhere north, Denmark, perhaps? Though his accent would point to his being born here.”
“Not a ringing endorsement,” Penny said laughing, “but not a condemnation either. I suppose we may count on the Royal Society to be his primary recommendation.”
Before the baroness could answer, Lord Grayson had pushed his way into their circle.
“Miss Dell, Lady Penderton, Lady Cabot,” he said bowing. “May I, Miss Dell?” he asked, holding his hand out for her card.
Kitty could not help but note the difference between gay Lord Grayson and the serious gentleman who had just departed. And, though she thought she ought to disdain it entirely, she could not help but appreciate his careful dress. He always looked so…wonderful. It was a pity that she could not wave a wand and put Sir John’s intellect into Lord Grayson’s person or vice versa.
She handed over her card.
Lord Grayson peered at it. “Alas, you are already engaged for supper. Sir John…” Lord Grayson trailed off and then his head snapped up. “Sir John? Sir John Kullehamnd?”
“The very one,” Penny said. “Are you acquainted with our new friend?”
“I certainly am not,” Lord Grayson said stiffly.
Kitty looked at Lord Grayson in some surprise. He’d denied the acquaintance with rather more vehemence than would be required.
Penny seemed to find his answer all too satisfactory. She said, “The gentleman is of a serious turn of mind and not a very practiced flirt, and so I would doubt you had much in common.”
Lord Grayson smiled thinly and wrote his name down for the first. He bowed and strode away.
Lady Penderton looked at Penny curiously. “You were quite sharp with Lord Grayson. Do you harbor antipathy toward him? I understood him to be a particular friend of Lord Cabot.”
“He is a particular friend of my husband’s, Lady Penderton,” Penny said. “And while I do not despise the gentleman, I am cautious of him in regard to any unmarried ladies in his vicinity. He is a collector of hearts, I am afraid.”
“He is quite ridiculous, Mama,” Kitty said.
“Yes, I see,” Lady Penderton said thoughtfully. “He seems rather fun, though. He is handsome and has a certain charm to him.”
Before Kitty could explain to her mother that handsome and charming was precisely the problem with Lord Grayson, gentlemen began to approach. Lord Burke was known, as he’d often been to their neighborhood in Devon. Others were not, but took advantage of Penny and the baroness standing nearby to make the introduction.
Kitty’s card was filled before a half hour had passed.
*
Giles put his name down on a series of eager-looking lady’s cards. He was not particularly discriminating about it—it felt more of a job than it ought. He joined Cabot on the far side of the ballroom.
“I see Lady Cabot has accomplished her aim this evening,” he said to Cabot.
“Has she?” Lord Cabot asked. “I quite lost sight of her in the crowd.”
“She is over there,” Giles said, indicating the direction with a nod. “She stands with Miss Dell and Lady Penderton. Sir Gloomy has put himself down for Miss Dell’s supper.”
“If you mean Sir John, I told you she meant to make the match,” Cabot answered.
“But have you seen him?” Giles said heatedly. “I had him pointed out to me. There, over there, that fellow who looks like an undertaker!”
Lord Cabot looked where he was bid. “Yes, I see what you say. I suspect Lady Cabot was not wrong in describing him as an overly keen scholar. He’ll be the type who hurried to dress and threw on the first clothes he encountered as he’d lost track of time in his library.”
“Scholar, indeed,” Giles said dismissively.
“He may not bring any joie de vivre in his dress,” Cabot said, “or in his manner as far as I can tell from here. But it is my understanding that Miss Dell is not at all moved by a well-cut coat.” Cabot suddenly laughed and said, “Perhaps she is one lady who will not fall for your charms, such as they are.”
“Certainly, she will not be bowled over by anything that person will have to relate from his ridiculous library,” Giles said.
“Good God, Grayson,” Lord Cabot said, sounding out of patience. “Move on. The room is filled with adoring young ladies who will swoon over your compliments. Do not attempt to climb a mountain when a hill will do.”
Giles did not answer, but silently fumed. As it happened, a hill would not do. He’d set his sights on Miss Dell at Newmarket and he’d never failed at a conquest. He did not see why he should be felled by the morose Sir John. He would not be.
Oh, Miss Dell liked to tease him for his shallow font of knowledge. However, she only teased and he was certain she liked dancing with him. As he had her first, and Sir John must wait until supper, he thought he might cement her opinion of the fellow. He would make Sir John appear tedious and that would be the end of Lady Cabot’s schemes in that direction.
The idea cheered him immensely as he gazed across the ballroom at the lovely Miss Dell. She really was marvelous in her dark blue gown, surrounded by a sea of pastels. Tall, slim, her intelligent dark eyes flashing. She was in no way suited to the awkward Sir John. Certainly not.
*
The baroness had gone off to the card room and her predicted disasters at whist with Mrs. Cheldup. Frederick, though he was meant to keep a sharp eye on Kitty, was still deep in conversation with his friend, Jost. Kitty well knew that her brother would not pursue putting his name on any particular lady’s card. Rather, he would wait to see who had not been paired and gallantly step in. He would ensure that every lady wishing to stand up danced at least one set. He had always done so in Devon, as he was of the opinion that when he could not claim Miss Crimpleton, he should make himself useful to his hostess. As a result, hostesses everywhere adored Frederick Dell.
While Kitty and Penny waited for the musicians to strike up, Penny chattered on about her new life as Lady Cabot. Kitty was vastly amused to hear of how they enjoyed long romantic dinners, where they spoke of equine bloodlines over excellent wine. She found herself rather relieved to hear that Lord Cabot was now fully acquainted with the real Penny. Not the always happy and bright lady presented to society, but the Penny who Kitty knew well—so easily hurt and bruised. Penny claimed she’d wept a dozen times already and that her poor lord only wrung his hands and asked if it was his fault until she could not cry longer for laughing. She’d had a particularly long cry over the news that Miss Austen had passed, not because she so loved the lady or her books, but because she had once compared herself to foolish Marianne Dashwood. She’d tried to explain it to Lord Cabot, but he had been completely mystified.
While Kitty was delighted to hear of her friend’s happiness, she could not wholly put her
mind to it. There was a small part of her thoughts that would keep drifting to Lord Grayson. He’d taken the first and so she could not be many more minutes away from his florid compliments and empty phrasings. She was loath to admit it, but she was also not many more minutes away from his skill at dancing. She’d experienced it at Newmarket at the club ball—there was an expert ease to it that had thrilled her.
“In any case,” Penny said, bringing her back to the present, “he is a darling to me and we are having enormous fun expanding the stables and buying horses. We shall be the premier horse breeders in England, you shall see. My own father will come to us. Ah, here comes Grayson.”
Penny squeezed her hand and whispered, “Resist all suggestions that your eyes are the night sky and your flowing locks throw shame on Aphrodite.”
“I have never heard anything so ridiculous,” Kitty said.
“But you are likely to hear the ridiculous very soon,” Penny said, laughing. “I will go and find my husband, we are to dance together though I am sure we will be scolded over it. We do not much care, it is a silly rule.”
Kitty watched her friend depart, surprised that she would dance with Lord Cabot. She was certain Lady Bergram would note it, and note any single lady who sat out when Lord Cabot should have stepped in. After all, Frederick could not dance with them all. But, as Penny said, she and her lord did not much care about a censure.
It seemed rather wonderful to be a united force such as that. It spoke of secrets and decisions between them and the world’s opinion held at arm’s length.
“Miss Dell,” Lord Grayson said, holding out his hand. Kitty allowed herself to be led, and she allowed herself to give credit to the lord where he had earned it. There was a confidence to him that could only be pleasing. Whatever off-putting thing he might say, he would not fumble in his steps.
They joined the three other couples that would form their square and to Kitty’s surprise, Sir John was to her right. He’d stood up with Miss Blessy, a lady Kitty had been briefly introduced to as one who also came for her first season.
The music began and Lord Grayson led her through the pantalon. His movements were graceful and Kitty thought he was the sort of dancer who might easily rescue a lady who’d momentarily forgotten the steps. That she might do so was one of the ideas that had kept her up at night while the preparations for London had marched forward. She’d had a dancing master for years, but though she’d practiced, her mind was so often on other things.
“How do you find London so far, Miss Dell?” Lord Grayson asked, as they returned to their side and passed round each other.
Kitty was very much relieved that he had not led with her moonbeam eyes or her grace of Athena. It seemed he was determined to have a conversation in the sensible realm and she welcomed it.
“I find the town invigorating, Lord Grayson,” she answered. “Especially the people in it. I have recently had the great good fortune to be introduced to Mrs. Herschel.”
“Mrs. Herschel? I do not believe I know the lady,” Lord Grayson said.
Kitty pressed her lips together. Of course he would not even have heard of the great scientist.
“Mrs. Caroline Herschel is an astronomer and has discovered a number of comets,” she said.
“Comets. Those stars that fly through the night. Charming.”
Kitty nodded, not bothering to expound on what was known of comets, though Sir Isaac Newton had come to more particular conclusions than stars flying through the sky.
“Though, how does one have interest in such things when there are stars brighter than any in the night sky right here on earth?” Lord Grayson said gallantly.
Kitty suppressed a sigh. They were back to the florid phrasings.
They had completed the pantalon and returned to their place as the opposite couples took the floor.
Kitty watched Sir John lead Miss Blessy and she blushed ever so slightly for them. Miss Blessy was short and plump and had a look of vague confusion, as if she were not over-familiar with where the dance was going. Sir John was upright and stiff, looking as if he led his partner through some sad occasion, though he at least seemed to have better command of the steps.
Next to her, Lord Grayson said softly, “One really ought to employ a dancing master before engaging oneself at a ball.”
Kitty turned her head sharply. “Do you insult a lady, my lord?” she whispered.
“Certainly not,” Lord Grayson said, louder. “The fault is always to be laid at the gentleman’s door.”
Kitty fumed. Perhaps Sir John had not the smoothness or skill of a Lord Grayson, but that did not mean there was anything positively wrong with him. Or his dancing. Though it be a bit stiff. She supposed Sir John was not under the illusion that comets were stars flying through the night.
“My sympathy goes out to Miss Blessy,” Lord Grayson said quietly.
“Sir John Kullehamnd is a member of the Royal Society,” Kitty whispered heatedly.
“Then I suppose they do not do much dancing there,” Lord Grayson said.
“I suppose they do not,” Kitty said, having heard quite enough from Lord Grayson. “They are far too busy making discoveries to benefit mankind.”
“And yet,” Lord Grayson persisted, “mankind dearly loves to dance.”
Kitty had reached the very end of her patience. Lord Grayson might be dashing and a splendid dancer, but that was all. It was the height of conceit that this fool thought himself above a member of the Royal Society just because he had memorized some steps.
“Mankind,” Kitty said, “was informed in 1543 that the sun does not revolve around the earth. Perhaps a gentleman might infer from that information that the world does not revolve around him.”
Kitty felt a vast relief in saying so, though she was aware she’d been shockingly rude and therefore not very ladylike. The baroness always said that you must be kinder to the people you dislike than you were to your friends, as too much honey was as poisonous as nightshade but nobody could ever fault you for it.
For his part, Lord Grayson did not reply. Nor did he say anything for the rest of the set.
At least she had stopped his insults against poor Sir John.
*
Giles had felt a temper rising in him ever since he had squired Miss Dell through the first quadrille. He did not often have a temper, as he was so rarely displeased with life. Even finding himself near-penniless at the present time had not dampened his outlook.
Just now, though…
How had the conversation gone in such a bad direction! When he’d had a look at Sir John’s bumbling through the steps, he’d thought his work had been done for him. All he need do was point it out. It was not as if he’d invented anything against the fellow. He was a terrible dancer!
But Miss Dell had not cared anything about it. No, she was only impressed by the man’s membership in the Royal Society.
What could she mean by it? He understood the lady to be a bit of a bookworm, but how was that to affect who she preferred? Did she somehow imagine that if she were to contract herself to a dry thing like Sir John, that he would consult her on his readings or experiments or whatever he did that had not left time for dancing lessons?
He could not believe it to be so.
As his rare tempers were wont to do, eventually his consternation began to fade. It was replaced by his naturally buoyant optimism. Certainly, Miss Dell did not really prefer the likes of Kullehamnd. Perhaps she only toyed with him to increase his ardor.
Well, if that was the lady’s game, she was skilled indeed. He’d never been so determined to win a lady’s favor.
He had thought it unfortunate that Sir John was to take Miss Dell into supper, but now he began to think differently. A man like that would only expose his dullness over a protracted encounter.
Giles was determined to be nearby as it happened and had been hurrying Miss Danworth toward the supper room to accomplish it.
Miss Danworth, never very carefree anyway, came along
with him, but not without staring at him annoyed.
Chapter Four
Kitty had quite regained her spirits over the course of the evening. Lord Burke had been his ever-charming self, though he seemed somewhat wistful these days. She had noted it at Newmarket and it was with him still.
She had also danced with other gentlemen who she had not known prior. Frederick, apparently believing it was his purview, had attempted to signal his approval or otherwise as each partner led her to the floor. Sir Allen was a yes, though Kitty found him tedious. Mr. Weymouth was a no, though he was good-humored and made her laugh.
Frederick had only shrugged at Sir John.
Kitty knew that Sir John was not the most exemplary partner, having viewed him with Miss Blessy, but she was confident they should get through well enough.
They had got on well enough, though it was not particularly inspired. Sir John was still stiff, but improved now that he did not have to keep track of which direction Miss Blessy was heading off to.
They’d had a fascinating conversation on the nature of hemi-parasitic plants. Kitty was looking forward to what else they might discuss over supper.
All was as it should be, until Lord Grayson practically rushed the table and sat Miss Danworth and himself across from her and Sir John. The parties were quickly, albeit reluctantly on her end, introduced.
Aside from her aggravation at Lord Grayson pushing in, Kitty was leery of Miss Danworth. She was a lovely lady, with a mass of sunshine blond curls fighting to escape her hair combs. Her dress was exceedingly elegant. She was everything a lady should be, but there was a coldness in her manner. It was not in her words, which were commonplace enough, but something in her manner. She reminded Kitty of a neighbor in Devon who looked coolly upon all the world as an enemy, until they were proven otherwise.
“Sir John,” Lord Grayson said, “I understand you are a member of the Royal Society.”