by Kate Archer
Before Daisy could answer, Mrs. Jellops said, “Not in the slightest. Why ever should it?”
Thankfully, the carriage stopped and there was no more time for circular and very confusing conversations.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Charles had escorted Miss Danworth and the confounded Mrs. Jellops into the assembly rooms. As they waited their turn to be greeted by the prince, he cursed himself for his heavy-handedness. He might have just asked the lady for her supper without the speech about it being proper, and he being the guardian and whatever else he’d gone on about.
Or, he might have been even more clever and not asked at all.
What was he doing, anyway? Was this only some silly competition with Burke?
If it was, they were both fools, as Miss Danworth was not inclined to entertain any gentleman’s interest.
Perhaps that was why he was so interested in Miss Danworth. It was pleasant to engage with a lady who was not set on dragging him up the church steps.
That was likely it. As for Burke’s interest in the lady, he could not understand how the fellow was going about it. He seemed to spend far more time speaking to Miss Minkerton than he did Miss Danworth.
Well, if Burke thought he would move in and take supper, he was about to find out he was mistaken.
The prince had taken his time greeting Miss Danworth and Charles was not surprised by it—he had noted at other events that the regent had a particular regard for the lady. Miss Danworth, if she were anything, was a composed creature and Prinny admired it. The regent was also not opposed to a fine set of fair curls.
“Dalton,” the prince said, “how do you do these days? We expected to see you at Brighton this summer before we heard the duke had sent you off to squire Miss Danworth here. A rascal of a father, eh?”
Dalton nodded, despite the fact that rascal was not the word he’d use for his patriarch. Though, any words he would use he had rarely said aloud.
Far behind him somewhere, he heard an unmistakable voice. It was noisy, it was pushy, and it was grating on the nerves.
It was unpleasantly unmistakable. Lady Montague.
Charles was not at all eager to see that particular lady. Not only was she vile and intent on causing trouble wherever she went, but he did harbor some amount of guilt over having connived with her to keep Lockwood away from Lady Sybil. He’d even helped the creature back into society after Hampton had helped her out of it and sent her packing to Yorkshire.
It had seemed an unfortunately necessary bargain at the time. Now, she reminded him of his less than honorable actions in attempting to keep his friends from the altar. She reminded him that he had been in the wrong more than once, though he’d justified himself at the time. He did not like it, and he did not like her.
Charles stared at the prince. The regent had winced at the sound of Lady Montague’s voice, then glanced at Charles and shrugged. “She made a point of informing all and sundry that she was in town,” the prince said. “What could I do?”
“Pretend you did not hear?”
The regent laughed and said quietly, “She will spend her time stirring things up in the card room—keep yourself on the ballroom floor and you will hardly know she’s present. In any case, you will not be her target. I understand she is put out that I did not invite some cousin or other. She will not dare mention it to me, but I am sure she will plague anybody else within hearing.”
Charles nodded and moved on, not at all surprised to hear of the lady’s latest contretemps. If she was not busy offending others, she was offended over something herself. The prince had suggested staying in the ballroom and that was precisely what he would do. He’d never had any intention of going into the card room anyway. He was a guardian and had responsibilities. It was all well and good that Mrs. Jellops acted as companion to Miss Danworth, but that lady did not know men as he did. It was left to him to keep any unsavory characters at bay who may have weaseled their way onto the regent’s guest list. Even if Lady Montague’s cousin had not been admitted, there were sure to be others not quite up to snuff. The prince often valued amusement over respectability and the vying for invitations would have been fierce.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Daisy felt more alive than she had in the past weeks. It was something to be dressed in finery and out at a ball. It seemed she had begun to take such evenings for granted during the season, but having gone nowhere since her father died had brought back all the wonder of it.
She certainly noticed that she was stared at from time to time, but she could not say it bothered her overmuch. The prince had sanctioned her appearance and she doubted anybody would challenge it. What she had been most worried about, that one of her father’s cronies might make a showing, seemed to have been a needless fear. There were some officers, to be sure, but they were senior and circumspect. Not the type her father had ever gathered round him.
The only person in attendance that she would wish to have nothing to do with was Lady Montague. That particular lady had caused no end of trouble for Cassandra Knightsbridge before she married Lord Hampton, and Daisy had heard she’d been unpleasant to Lady Sybil too, though the details were rather fuzzy.
She could not even understand why Lady Montague had turned up in Ramsgate. She did not ever remember hearing her name spoken in prior summers.
Daisy suppressed a smile. For all she knew, Lady Montague was quite a regular in local society. Her father would not have tolerated her for a moment and Daisy herself had never been introduced into the society of Ramsgate, penned in the garden as she had been.
None of it mattered much, as Lady Montague had taken herself off to the card room and was no doubt harassing people there.
Despite anybody’s surprise, or even shock, to see Daisy out so soon after her father’s passing, her card had filled rapidly enough. Most of the young men who claimed a dance were as they had been in London. She had taken to thinking of their general mien as callow-yet-gallant. They seem to have a rehearsed set of phrases to throw out, followed by a series of inane questions. It was all pleasant enough, though it endlessly surprised her that any lady would willingly place her fortune into one of these young fool’s hands. It did not surprise her, however, whenever she heard one of these fellows had decamped to the continent after betting his family’s fortunes on cards or a horse. It had occurred to her more than once that it was a mistake to assume men knew best—it was proved again and again that they did not.
Lord Dalton came to collect her for the dance before supper and she must admit to herself that he was wholly different from the other gentlemen. There was nothing callow about him, and little overtly gallant for that matter. Though, it had perhaps been gallant to claim her supper before they’d even left the carriage.
She began to think that he could not like Miss Minkerton very much if he were willing to throw over the opportunity to claim her supper.
It was a cheering notion, though she understood it should very much not be a cheering notion.
The fact was, she liked Lord Dalton better than anybody else, and she always had. Their relatively close quarters and his near-drowning had perhaps made that liking more pronounced.
She really did not think she would mind if he stayed in her back garden forever.
Just no closer than that.
As he led her through the changes, he said, “I expect the regent will have arranged the seating according to rank, and we may well find ourselves nearby Lady Montague.”
Daisy had not thought of that, she had only thought of Lady Montague being safely away in the card room. Most suppers at balls were a more casual affair, though she should have realized that the regent, of all people, would insist on some sort of ranking.
What ranking though? Lord Dalton was an earl, someday to be a duke. She was only the daughter of a viscount.
“That is all well and good for married people who choose to go in together,” Daisy said, “but what shall he do with unmarried couples? If he goes by the man’s title we will b
e near the top, if he goes by the lady’s we will be further down.”
Lord Dalton smiled. “I expect he will go by the men’s rank, as he is himself a man and a higher rank than anybody else. I expect Lord Home to take in Lady Montague and so we will be in her range, I think.”
Daisy sighed. “Well, she may say what she likes about my mourning habits.”
“She certainly may not,” Lord Dalton said.
Daisy suppressed a shiver. There was something in Lord Dalton’s protective tone that struck her. She supposed it was that it was so foreign to her. Whatever her father had ever been, he’d not been protective. Her mother had been too weak and gone too soon for it. Mrs. Jellops, the dear lady, was stalwart in her defenses, but not exactly built for leading daring charges. Daisy had been so used, all her life, to depending upon only herself. It was entirely novel to hear somebody raise a verbal sword in her defense.
There had been some silence between them, and Lord Dalton said, “Do you enjoy these sorts of things?”
Daisy smiled. “If you mean balls? Yes, I suppose I do, though you have ever looked pained in your attendance.”
“Yes, well, there are a lot of fluttering eyelashes, claims of delicateness, and gentle fanning to contend with. I just got done with Miss Martel claiming my arm was shockingly strong. Twice. I thought she might pretend a faint as a dramatic finale to her playacting.”
Daisy could not stop herself from laughing. She supposed the lord was endlessly beset with young ladies who would work very hard to like him in case they might be destined to be a duchess.
“Poor Miss Martel,” Daisy said.
“Poor Miss Martel nothing,” Lord Dalton said. “She will go to her mama and say I seemed very taken with her and they will scheme together to force another encounter. One day soon, I will walk down some avenue and a handkerchief will fly at my face and gently flutter to my feet. They will have discovered where to find me by paying off a servant and then they will look deeply shocked to encounter me.”
“And then they will hear, eventually, of your vow to never marry,” Daisy said. “That will be the end of it.”
“I’m sure they’ve heard it already,” Lord Dalton said. “The problem is, nobody ever believes it.”
“I believe it,” Daisy said softly.
“Do you?” the lord said, his voice just as low.
Daisy nodded. “Just as I have said that I will never—”
“You are certain you will not?”
The set ended before Daisy was forced to answer. She was sure she would have answered affirmative. She was not some silly girl who changed her mind with the weather. And yet, she was glad she had not been pressed to answer.
Just as Lord Dalton had predicted, Lady Montague was in range. In fact, she was seated directly across the not over-wide table. Daisy was further perturbed to note that Lord Dalton had been right, her husband did not accompany her. It had always been her opinion that Lord Montague was a more pleasant sort and it had been her guess that he went some way to controlling the lady’s worst instincts. Rather, Lady Montague was seated by Lord Home, a middle-aged gentleman Daisy did not know well.
At least Lord Burke and Miss Minkerton were in range of Daisy too, Lord Burke to Lady Montague’s right. Daisy could not help but note that they seemed anything but brother and sister. Miss Minkerton certainly must be wrong in her opinions—after all, what brother took a sister into supper?
Whether she was wrong or no, Miss Minkerton seemed delighted with him and he with her.
As there were a few persons who outranked even Lord Dalton or who were otherwise given precedence as being a senior military officer, the regent was just a bit too far away to be in their conversation. That was well, Daisy thought, as she’d already heard some very detailed stories of the building of the pavilion. Apparently, Mr. Nash was a stickler for quality and had even once sent back a box of nails he did not feel was up to snuff. The regent, if she understood him at all, had a fondness for people who deemed things not good enough for him.
Poor Mrs. Jellops, having partnered at whist with Mr. Kelleher, was somewhere near the bottom of the table. Daisy supposed the lady would not mind it, though. When it came to supper, she was far more interested in what was on the table than who was seated at it.
Daisy had noticed for some minutes that Lady Montague was staring at her. She pretended she did not notice and hoped the lady would find something else to engage her attention. Lord Dalton had no doubt marked it as he had engaged Daisy in a very nonsensical conversation about the tides.
“Miss Danworth,” Lady Montague said. “I say, Miss Danworth.”
She was impossible to ignore. Daisy looked over and smiled sweetly. “Lady Montague. How lovely to see you.”
Lady Montague sniffed at the sentiment and said, “And so we see each other. Though, I had been under the impression, Miss Danworth, that you were seeing nobody at all. At least, that is what my cousin said.”
Daisy had braced herself for some comment on her attendance at the assembly or the light color of her dress. She had no idea what the lady was talking about.
“My cousin, Miss Danworth, or I suppose I should say distant cousin as he is three times removed. A very pleasant fellow who was a dear friend of your father’s. Lieutenant Farthmore. He stays at my house, you know.”
Daisy was dumbstruck. Of course, she had not known any of it. Not that Lady Montague kept a house nearby, not that she was related to the lieutenant, and certainly not that he stayed at her house.
“Your cousin,” Lord Dalton said to Lady Montague, “however distant, arrived at an unseemly hour and did not gain admittance.”
“Oh, don’t bother dripping honey on it, Dalton,” Lady Montague said. “I know all about it.”
“If you knew all about it,” Lord Dalton said, “you would not have brought it up.”
Lady Montague’s thin lips pressed together in a sharp line and her eyes narrowed at Lord Dalton. She looked as if she were confirming the location of her prey before she pounced.
“I know that the Lieutenant arrived to pay respects to the daughter of a dear departed friend and was summarily thrown from the property,” Lady Montague said. “I know Lieutenant Farthmore, who is a renowned member of the military, is celebrated for his amphibious operations at Tarragona. I know that one might have been generous and assumed that Lord Childress’ daughter was too broken up over her father’s death to see anybody. But then, I also know that same daughter is out at a ball wearing a dress that does not hint at such devastation. That, Lord Dalton, is what I know.”
Lady Montague had been loud enough to attract attention up and down the table. The rest of the diners had gone silent, almost as if they’d had their ears primed all night in anticipation of what the lady would stir up.
Daisy had a great urge to run from the room, but at the same time felt frozen in her seat. She could feel Lord Dalton’s fury coming off him like a heat.
Lord Dalton laid down his fork very deliberately and said, “I see you are now to be the arbiter of mourning. But I wonder…who will mourn when you depart, Lady Montague? Who will don the black and pretend at weeping? I think the best you might expect is your husband wears an armband for a while, because it is not much trouble. Otherwise, it will be more a time for jubilation than not. That is how villains may expect to be sent off to meet their maker.”
It seemed to Daisy that Lady Montague had never experienced such a vigorous defense upon one of her attacks. She so often cowed people that she was in the habit of gaining her victory and most certainly not in the habit of being crossed. Especially not in such a manner or so publicly. Her face had paled to such a degree that Daisy wondered how she stayed upright.
“You will answer to my husband, Lord Dalton,” she said, breathing heavily.
“I certainly will not,” Lord Dalton said, “he has too much sense than to get himself killed over one of your arguments. Else, he would have been dead long ago.”
The prince laughed
at the head of the table. “Hah! That’s right, eh?”
Lady Montague turned to Lord Home. “My lord, how do you answer this?”
Lord Home looked very surprised to be asked to come to the lady’s rescue. “How do I? My dear lady, I only offered my arm into supper, not my blood at dawn. I do not know what argument you have with this young lady, nor do I wish to.”
Lady Montague rose. “Dalton,” she said, “you will pay for this. You will see that my husband comes to my defense.”
“I put a stop to this right now,” the regent said, seeming to lose his humor over the outburst. “There are to be no duels over something I sanctioned. I personally invited Miss Danworth. If there is to be any consequences from this ridiculous argument, I will take steps that everybody involved will find unpleasant. Lady Montague, do stop stirring pots all over my realm—I grow weary of it, madam.”
Lady Montague, though she might have been willing to go toe to toe with nearly anybody, could not carry it off with the prince. Though he had not outlined the unpleasant steps he might take, all within hearing knew it would involve a banishment from society. Of all things, that was the threat Lady Montague could not bear to see realized. She curtsied and swept out of the dining room.
Lord Home looked for a moment as if he might follow her, then shrugged his shoulders and went back to his plate.
As if Lord Home had signaled to everyone what they ought to be doing, the rest of the party went back to their conversations. Though, Daisy was certain, the conversation for the rest of the evening would be solely focused on Lady Montague.
“I am afraid you have made an enemy, Lord Dalton,” Daisy said.
Lord Dalton only waved his hand in a dismissal of the idea. “Lady Montague has too many enemies to count,” he said. “I know Lord Montague, she will rant and rave and he will take a book and find some quiet corner until she runs out of steam. In any case, she will be careful, she has garnered the irritation of the prince and will not take that lightly.”
Daisy hoped Lord Dalton was right, though she was not certain of it. “Might she not, though, rant and rave to Lieutenant Farthmore? Might not he think he ought to challenge you in defense of his cousin?”