Lady Blakeley was to hold a dinner on Tuesday next. Miss Knightsbridge had accepted the invitation, and one was then given to him too.
*
Cassandra had dancedall evening, of course the lady the ball honored would have her card filled and many turned away.
The supper had been lavish and might have been enjoyed immensely had it not been for the gentlemen of the pact bumbling their way through the service. It provided vast amusement to the onlookers, but it had only made Cassandra uncomfortable each time she became aware of some gaffe.
Worse, Lord Hampton seemed always to be standing behind her and it made the back of her neck feel prickly to know it. She did not understand why he would persist with it, particularly because the butler kept berating him about it.
Cassandra had been taken into dinner by the Duke of Carlisle, Lord Hampton’s father. She was aware it was meant to be a high honor, but she would have much preferred the easy jokes of Lord Burke.
The duke spoke to her on a variety of subjects, but did not hit upon the one she was truly interested in. What had he meant when he said that she had rejected Lord Hampton?
Though she searched her mind, there had not been any way to recall him to the subject.
She did find, though, that the duke had a modern way of thinking, perhaps more modern than his son. He was not opposed to her shooting, and even hinted that the dowager had taken up a fowling piece here and there in her youth, though they had all forgone speaking of it.
He had expounded on his opinions by saying, “I sometimes wonder if we do not put young ladies too much in a cage. They must at once come off as a delicate flower, and then when they run their own house, must transform themselves into a formidable lady with an iron fist.”
The duke had concluded with, “Of course, our Miss Knightsbridge is in no danger of requiring a constant supply of smelling salts.”
She did not know when she had become the duke’s “ourMiss Knightsbridge” but could only agree on the smelling salt front.
Now, happily, she was home, safe in her bedchamber with just a single candle to light the room. She had got through the ball and had been restored to her place. Her father could relax and dismiss forever any ideas of a duel—he’d been well satisfied with the gentlemen’s humiliation in their livery uniforms. In fact, he had been rather gleeful in his attempts to run them off their feet. Cassandra had noticed him accepting a cup of something, then frowning and sending it back, more than once.
Thatshehad not been entirely satisfied with the gentlemen’s humiliation Cassandra would keep to herself. There did not seem much point in demanding anything further, as she knew she would not get it.
Cassandra was determined to enjoy the rest of the season. She would judiciously accept invitations from the pile that had continued to grow. She would only attend those events that struck her as genial. She would have a care for her person and not allow herself to become anybody’s trophy at a dinner or a rout.
She had already accepted Lady Blakeley’s dinner invitation, but that was the only one she had answered with any eagerness. The rest could wait.
Cassandra blew out the candle and drifted off to a well-earned sleep.
*
The following dayshould have been one of leisure, Cassandra’s party had not returned from Carlton House until after three. The morning hourswerequiet and leisurely. Cassandra, Lady Marksworth, and the dowager breakfasted late on an enormous spread arranged by Racine. Her father, she knew, would stay abed with his breakfast and a proliferation of newspapers Jimmy had no doubt been sent out to fetch. He would leave for Surrey after he’d risen and he would not like to be rushed.
Racine appeared to consider the prince’s ball a victory for the house and was in quite the jolly frame of mind. More than once, Cassandra heard him softly say, “Yes, indeed.”
Lady Marksworth said, “My dear Duchess, you do know you need not descend for breakfast. We can most easily have something sent up.”
“No, Lady Marksworth,” the dowager said. “Once I was apprised of your own habit of coming down so that Miss Knightsbridge does not dine alone, I was determined to copy the habit. I find I rather enjoy it—it is ever so much more cheerful than staying alone in my room while Jates huffs and mutters over the state of my clothes.”
“I am grateful for the company of you both,” Cassandra said.
“For myself,” the dowager said, “I am grateful that the ball was such a success. Miss Knightsbridge is restored to her proper place and those gentlemen of the pact, including my own grandson, were put intheirproper place.”
Cassandra had studiously avoided any mention of the gentlemen who had caused her harm, and who were shown as ridiculous the evening before. She said nothing now.
“Today is your day at home, Lady Marksworth?” the Dowager asked. “I expect you will have various visitors encountered at Carlton House coming to mark their approval of Miss Knightsbridge.”
Cassandra had entirely forgotten that it was her aunt’s at home day. She hoped the Dowager was mistaken and they should only be visited by Sybil and some of Lady Marksworth’s closest friends. Though she had been out in the world once again, she was not in the frame of mind to be back out again so soon.
*
Cassandra had hopedto only see the most well-known acquaintances in her aunt’s drawing room and had worried that she should see more than that. However, she could not have imagined how many cards would batter the door like bats who had lost their way in the night. The street became choked with carriages as one person after the next was shown in.
Cassandra tried her best to get through it in good humor, though she was rather hard-pressed when a lady would boldly inquire if Miss Knightsbridge had found time to examine an invitation recently sent. Sybil was of great assistance in that regard, as she invariably stepped in to explain that Miss Knightsbridge had only recently returned to town and was still getting settled.
