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 didnotsurprise 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 thathewas 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 claimhersupper.
It was a cheering notion, though she understood it should very muchnotbe 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 be 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.
