Lady Sedway had left Lord Hampton and Lord Ashworth speaking to Miss Darlington. She glided by Cassandra and whispered in her ear. “I will have Hampton take you in, you may thank me later.”
Cassandra felt the blood drain from her cheeks and had a great urge to run after her friend and somehow convince her to have things changed. It would be far more convenient to have Lord Hampton take in Miss Darlington.
She did not do so. She could not do so. Nobody would dare trifle with a lady’s dinner arrangements. Worse, she was all but certain that dear Anne had put careful thought into the matter and viewed herself as doing a great favor for her friend. Lady Sedway could not know that Cassandra and Lord Hampton had got off on the wrong foot. No, that was an understatement. They had got off on the wrong two legs.
“Did she say Hampton?” Lady Marksworth said softly. “Well done, Lady Sedway.”
*
By the timedinner was announced, Cassandra had steeled herself to be taken in by Lord Hampton. Further, she’d decided that it was not very sensible to make an enemy of him, despite her personal opinions. It appeared she was to be encountering him everywhere and so it would be more comfortable to smooth things over in some manner.
He had taken her in silently, gravely even, and now they sat next to each other. It was becoming apparent that the lord would not initiate a conversation so, just as she had been forced to do at the Bergrams’ ball, she would need to say something.
“How do you know Lord and Lady Sedway, my lord?” she said. Nothing could be more commonplace and guaranteed not to offend.
“My father is second cousin to Lord Sedway’s father,” Lord Hampton said. “And you?”
At least he had followed his answer with a question, which was a deal more than he’d done when they’d danced at the ball. “I have known Lady Sedway since I was a child,” Cassandra said. “Her father’s estate is very nearby my own father’s in Surrey.”
Lord Hampton nodded, but did not reply. Cassandra supposed that was to be the end of any light conversation between them.
She said, “My lord, I really must apologize for my remarks at the Bergrams’, both in the ballroom and at supper. They were ill-conceived, to say the least.”
There. She’d said it. Now, if he were any sort of gentleman at all, he would accept the apology and they would go on as if nothing had ever occurred between them.
“Ill-conceived? Do you say, then,” Lord Hampton asked, “that you donotride without a groom or shoot birds?”
Truly? He would wish to go on with it? Why did he not simply nod in acknowledgement of her regret? She had no wish to expound on anything she’d said, nor would she outright lie by denying any of it.
“I say, my lord,” Cassandra said cautiously, “that I regret what I said. Perhaps that may be deemed sufficient?”
Lord Hampton did finally then nod his assent, though it perturbed Cassandra that he should still be wondering what she did on her own estate. She supposed the idea of shooting off a shotgun was particularly surprising. Other ladies had been known to ride at a gallop through Hyde Park, their grooms falling somewhat behind. They were perhaps looked at askance, but it did not rise to the level of shock. The shooting birds, though. Even her father had said she ought not mention it and her father did not bow to convention very often.
Much to her relief, Lord Burke on her other side had turned to her, and Miss Penny Darlington had turned to Lord Hampton.
The dinner went on in such a manner. On her one side, voluble Lord Burke and his war stories, not the least of which was a horrifying tale of his cook refusing to even name a dish, and then when forced, calling itUn cheval que vous avez peut-être vu récemment, otherwise understood to be ‘a horse you may have seen recently.’ It had completely put her off her beef.
On her other side, a stilted conversation with Lord Hampton. She had tried asking him of the war, but he was not as eager to speak of it as Lord Burke. She had asked him about his county, but it appeared that Derbyshire was an uninteresting sort of place with little to mention. Finally, at a complete loss, she had asked him if he were fond of dogs. That topic, of all others, seemed at least mildly interesting to the lord.
“I am fond in the usual way,” he said. “My father’s master of the hounds and I have just designed new kennels in the modern style.”
“My own father’s hounds live better than some people, I think,” Cassandra said. “He’s been very careful to put drains low, keep their beds off the floor and ensure they are warm in winter. He takes great care matching their food to the season.”
“I am not surprised by it,” Lord Hampton said, “anybody wishing their hounds in good form must do all of those things.”
“I suppose so, and while I admire the whole operation exceedingly, I must admit having a particular affection for my own mastiff. He does nothing useful and ought to be in the stables, but I prefer to keep him in the house. I am certain he rather prefers it as well.”
In an instant, Lord Hampton looked truly interested. “I, too, own a mastiff. His name is Havoc and he spends the majority of his time in my library, gnawing on my books.”
Cassandra laughed, and it was not a forced laugh. “My own is named Mayhem, May for short. She will happily chew up anything she suspects has any amount of value.”
“I had been under the impression that most ladies preferred a lap dog,” Lord Hampton said. “My mother has some kind of little dust ball—a Pomeranian, I think.”
“I find larger breeds have a better temperament,” Cassandra said. “Perhaps because they do not spend all their time worrying about being stepped on. May, when she is not destroying something, is generally ranged out in front of the fire and fast asleep, as comfortable as if she were the master of the house.”
Lord Hampton nodded. “I do believe the larger breeds are more content with their lot. My mother’s dog is forever yapping at the air.”
“Yes,” Cassandra said. “I suppose their bark is meant to make up for their lack of size.”
