“My dear Lily,” Cassandra said, “you are lovely.”
“As are you,” Lily said. “I am convinced that marriage suits you.”
“I thought the very same,” Aunt Amelia said. “I imagine Lord Hampton has been plying you with sweetmeats. Of course, I could be mistaken, it might be tarts for all I know of it. People do have their own preferences.”
Before Mrs. Hemming could expound further on Lady Hampton’s slightly increased girth, she was blessedly called away by Mr. Jacobs, an old friend she had not seen in some time.
“I am sorry,” Lily said, “you do know how my aunt says whatever little thing comes to mind.”
“Indeed,” Cassandra said with a smile, “I have always found it very informative to hear spoken what everyone else must be thinking. I fear I cannot hide my condition much longer.”
“Does Lord Hampton know?” Lily asked.
Cassandra looked pensive. “It is hard to say, actually. Though I’ve said nothing, he has suddenly taken to inquiring into my comfort an extraordinary amount. I have barely sat somewhere before he is suggesting a pillow for my head or a throw for my lap—he has become an absolute captain of fire screens. Then, of course, he will have noticed that I have not taken out my horse these past weeks. No more wild rides for Cassandra for the foreseeable future.”
“Goodness, please do not,” Lily said. “I often trembled to see you flying over a fence when you had not anything to risk but your own neck.”
Cassandra patted Lily’s hand. “I have been very staid ever since I suspected, and I have resolved to tell him the news on the morrow. I am past the danger and would prefer to inform him of it before he positively guesses and wonders what I am waiting for. I am only afraid he will urge that we retreat to the countryside immediately.”
“As you no doubt should,” Lily said. “Do not press yourself to stay on my account. You’ve done quite enough, and my aunt and I will get along very well.”
“I believe you shall,” Cassandra said. “If I am not here to supervise, I am certain Lady Blakeley will lend a hand, then Penny Darlington is to arrive next week. Lady Sedway, you remember her as Anne Hamilton, may come down from Scotland, though I have yet to hear from her. I would count on Sybil too, but I understand the marchioness is busy redoing everything in her new house that Lord Lockwood ever did. She says his wallpapers are so ghastly that they cannot spare a moment for London, but I rather think they only have eyes for each other and cannot be bothered to come.”
As Lily took in the news of who would be where, Lord Hampton came by his wife’s side, accompanied by another gentleman.
“Lady Hampton,” the other gentleman said, bowing low.
Lily looked at this unknown gentleman with no small interest. He was tall and lean, even a hair taller than Hampton, with dusky fair hair and striking green eyes. He had an air about him that she had not noted in the gentlemen of her Surrey neighborhood—he seemed at once at his ease and alert, rather like a leopard casually surveying his territory from the vantage point of a high branch.
“Lord Ashworth,” Cassandra said in greeting. “May I present Miss Farnsworth.”
Lily curtsied. So here was a gentleman of the Dukes’ Pact—one of the gentlemen highflyers Cassandra had counseled her to avoid. It was a shame, he was handsome.Veryhandsome.
Cassandra and her lord’s attention were suddenly sought out by Lady Mainteneau. The lady and her lord had hotly debated if the rumors were true that Lord Byron just now resided at the Mocenigo Palace with a pair of monkeys and a fox. Her lord said it could not be so, no right-minded Englishman made friends with a fox. Lady Mainteneau thought it all too likely—Lord Byron was nothing if not an eccentric. They were determined to confirm the truth of it from two who had so recently been on the scene in Venice.
Lady Mainteneau took both Lord Hampton and Cassandra by the arms and steered them toward her eagerly awaiting husband.
Lily felt awkward, left behind to converse with Lord Ashworth on her own.
“Lord Hampton tells me you have been long acquainted with Lady Hampton,” Lord Ashworth said pleasantly.
“Yes, indeed,” Lily said, grateful that the lord had not allowed a silence to hang between them overlong. “We are childhood friends; her father’s estate is not five miles from my own.”
A solemn footman who had appeared at the door to the drawing room caught Lily’s eye. With great ceremony, he held up an enormous bronze gong and rang it with a mallet. Lily looked at him with interest.
“I understand it is from China,” Lord Ashworth said, “and meant to say that dinner is served.”
Lady Blakeley swept in, appearing as if from nowhere. “Ashworth, do take in Miss Farnsworth.”
Lily suppressed any hint of her feelings about the suggestion. She found she was not entirely certain what those feelings were. She had no wish to put herself in front of a gentleman involved in the Dukes’ Pact, though she could not entirely claim she minded having this particular handsome gentleman in view.
She could not discern Lord Ashworth’s opinion on the matter—he maintained a neutral expression that she found vaguely disconcerting. He merely put out his arm.
Lady Blakeley’s diningroom was nearly overwhelming in riotous color. A vibrant yellow silk covered the walls, embroidered with eccentric scenes of Indian maharajahs. The gold-leafed chairs were padded in ruby red silk, the tablecloth a bold orange satin, and the chandeliers were draped with ropes of semi-precious stones that cast a dizzying array of colors. The totality of the room’s impression was that of a circus and Lily would not have been surprised to see the footmen turn themselves into acrobats.
Lord Ashworth noted Lily’s wonder. He said, “Lady Blakeley’s dining room tends to have a startling effect on one newly introduced to it.”
“It is most original,” Lily said, hardly knowing how to describe the room’s impact on her senses.
