“Certainly, Lord Burke, any female might learn the skill,” Cassandra said. “It is not an overly complicated operation.”
Miss Danworth looked enormously pleased with the conversation. Cassandra was mortified. She’d not wished to reveal any of what she’d said. But then, that stupid, arrogant lord had purposefully baited her into it!
She went on far quieter after that and was relieved that Lord Burke would entertain them with more stories of his cook in the war. The fellow had once picked mushrooms for a repast but turned out not to be skilled at selecting edible varieties. The lord had been sick for days. The man had since been installed in Grosvenor Square and was a deal more comfortable ordering from a grocer than he’d ever been wandering forlornly round foreign forests.
*
Edwin and LordLockwood rode their horses through the quiet streets, the Bergrams’ ball blessedly over.
“A successful sally, I’ll wager,” Lockwood said. “Here we are, free at last and having given nobody reason to hope.”
Hampton did not answer. His head was still too full of his encounters with Miss Knightsbridge. Of all the high-handed misses! First, she demanded he speak to her and then insulted him when his conversation was deemed unsatisfactory. What had she said? “Not everyone is desperate to know you.”Thatwas what she said.
Then Burke would bring her to his notice again! She would apprise him, pointedly, that she did not care a fig for the pact and the last thing she’d wish to do was become a duchess. Of course she did not, she was too busy galloping around and shooting birds.
Who ever heard of such a thing? What went on in Surrey, that a viscount’s daughter was in the habit of shooting birds? The notion was absurd. The habit of muff pistols was ridiculous enough—a lady was fortunate not to shoot off her foot and if a lady really wished to be defended from highwaymen, that lady ought to bring enough well-armed men to do the job. It was a silly conceit to carry a toy pistol in a reticule and a worse conceit to claim skill with a shotgun.
He’d never heard of a lady successfully fending off an attack with her delicate little pistol and was certain he never would. He supposed Miss Knightsbridge would be better prepared, as she’d have a fowling piece by her side.
“Close one on Lady Sybil, though,” Lockwood said. “Manning was supposed to take her into supper and was called away on some emergency. Dash it—I stepped in before I could even think. I’d not claimed the dance before supper and had thought to take myself off to some balcony or other to avoid a protracted conversation with a lady. Then, there I was, arm out and leading her in. She’s a charmer, I won’t lie.”
Hampton had not particularly attended his friend’s speech. He looked over and said, “What?”
“Never mind,” Lockwood said in exasperation. “You will attend on the morrow, I suppose?”
Hampton knew perfectly well what Lockwood referred to. The gentlemen named in the pact were all to meet at Dalton’s house. Dalton was already an earl and had a large residence in Berkeley Square.
“I will attend,” Hampton said. He did not know what would be discussed, except to assume they were all to come up with some idea of how to put their fathers off without having to move to Cheapside.
Hampton could not say how they would do it, but they must do it. As for the other side of the coin, the danger of falling for the charms of some lady or other, he was in no danger whatsoever. The ladies he’d danced with that evening were all of a kind—eager to display their beauty and wit. Except, of course, Miss Knightsbridge. She was only eager to flout her confoundedness, horsemanship and skill with a gun.
“How did you get on with Miss Knightsbridge?” Lockwood asked. “I know you have a weakness for her sort of looks and I saw you conversing with her at dinner. Did she attempt to cast a net?”
“Miss Knightsbridge is too busy galloping her horse and firing off a fowling piece at passing birds to cast any nets,” Lord Hampton said drily.
*
Lady Sybil wasshown into the drawing room and hurried to Cassandra’s side. Lady Marksworth greeted her civilly and rose. “I shall leave you two alone,” she said. “I remember all too well the day after a ball in my own youth and am certain there is no end of things to discuss without the eavesdropping of an old woman.”
“You are not old at all!” Cassandra said, and she meant it. Lady Marksworth was a distinguished looking lady of early middle age.
“I am not old to myself, anyway,” Lady Marksworth said goodhumoredly. “I will have tea sent in. Now, talk away.”
Lady Marksworth swept out of the room and Cassandra thought her aunt understood her better than she had initially given the lady credit for. She and Sybilwouldhave much to talk of.
They settled themselves on the velvet cushions of the window seat that overlooked the lady’s charming front garden, fronted by an ironwork gate. The sun shone down, the clip-clop of the occasional carriage sounded softly through the glass as it passed them by, and the distant sound of neighboring front doors opening and closing spoke of a street filled with people coming and going.
Cassandra preferred this little perch above all others in her aunt’s house, as it so differed from Trebly Hall and its isolation in the countryside. Its excellent view of the street had provided no end of entertainment, including what she suspected was a budding romance between a governess and a butler. That lady was in the habit of pushing her charge’s pram down the street at precisely the time the butler came out for air. As well, there was a gentleman living across the road who bore a long scar on his cheek and appeared always to be serious—she imagined him as having been one of Wellington’s right-hand men.
“You begin,” Cassandra said, holding her friend’s hands in her own.
“Very well,” Sybil said. “Ever so much happened, but I will start by telling you of a near disaster.”
“A disaster!” Cassandra said, very much surprised.
“Nearly so,” Sybil said. “Mr. Manning was meant to take me into supper, but as we walked toward the dining room, a messenger delivered him a letter. An old aunt in Kent did poorly and her neighbor had written about it. He is ever so kind, as it turns out. He said his aunt would never bother him, not even if she were on her deathbed, and so he was most grateful the neighbor had been bold enough to write. His butler saw at once that it was from his aunt’s neighborhood and sent the message straight to the Bergrams’ knowing his master would not wish to be delayed. He set off for Kent that very instant, not even returning home to pack a case. And so you see, though he apologized profusely, there I was standing alone while everybody else was led in.”
“Did you make haste to the retiring room?” Cassandra asked. “I have thought of what I should do if I were to be without a partner for supper, and it is the only thing I can think of.”
