Blessedly, nobody seemed interested in pushing her toward the pianoforte. She was competent enough on the instrument, but did not love playing in public. She also thought that one missed a great deal of conversation when they were providing the entertainment and the conversation at this particular party was not to be missed.
The rest of the evening was spent playing out scenes, where Mrs. Jordan was the performer and the rest of the party made guesses. She was a baker who had made a mistake with the yeast, she was a lady’s maid who had singed her mistress’s wig, she was a young buck slyly courting a daughter despite her mama’s disapproval.
The last amusement of the evening was listening to Lord Easton laugh all the way back to the house. Caroline thought she had not been entertained so much in all of her life.
She fell asleep both lighthearted, and with a nagging feeling about Lord Bertridge. He would not have approved of the party at all. Further, and despite all her rationality, she could not help but think that he might interfere in her thoughts when it came to a practical decision about her future. She could not help but think it, as every time she considered another gentleman like Mr. Landon the lord did creep into her mind.
He was becoming very irritating about it.
Chapter Nine
Lady Easton hadnot been pleased to watch her husband and her charge saunter off to Lord Alvanley’s dinner the evening before, but that began to feel a pleasant interlude compared to what she faced now.
As the sun streamed into the breakfast room, she stared at her husband through the dust motes that always seemed to be floating in the air in this wretched town.
She was staggered. Clara Godwin, Countess of Easton, was positively staggered.
“As you might imagine,” Lord Easton went on, “it was all rather jolly.” The lord paused and set down his toast. “What is it, my dear? You look as if you might tip over.”
“I feel I do not understand you properly, Easton. Did you mean to say that Mrs. Jordan, Dorothy Jordan of the stage, attended the dinner? At the table? She was not some hired entertainment?”
“Yes, that’s her, and of course she was at the table,” Lord Easton said cheerfully. “And then after dinner, well, I cannot even describe, I thought my sides would split, I really did, it was that amusing.”
Though Lady Easton wasmentallystaggered, out of the corner of her eye she noted that her very sensible butler wasphysicallystaggered. He held his hand out to steady himself on the sideboard. What mad world did she live in, that her butler had more sense and decorum than her husband?
“She is an actress!” Lady Easton cried. “An actress! An actual actress!”
She could not think of any further description than to point out that the woman was an actress. She fanned herself and Bramley hurried over with the teapot.
“One of the finest actresses in the land,” Lord Easton said, nodding.
“An actress!” she repeated. “You have exposed Caroline to an actress!”
“Now, it’s perfectly fine, my dear. Neither Alvanley nor the Regent turned their noses up at her and the Duke of Clarence quite favors her.”
“As well he might—she’s his mistress!” Lady Easton said, fanning herself. “She is an actressanda mistress!”
“Yes, yes, but we are at the seaside. Things are more relaxed here. Times have changed, you know,” Lord Easton said.
“Times have changed, have they?” Lady Easton said. “The times. They’ve changed. I see. And where have I been while the times were so helpfully changing?”
“Well, I suppose—”
“Do not even answer that!” Lady Easton said. “I’ll have you know, the times have not changed that much, nor will they ever.”
Edgar trotted in and looked hopefully around the table. Noting Lady Easton’s glare, he turned around and trotted back out again.
“I put my foot down, Easton. I put my foot down firmly and with determination. It is bad enough that my husband would allow himself to dine with an actress, but I will not allow Caroline to be dragged down to the gutter. Lord help us if there is talk about this. What will her father think? You will have ruined her chances!”
“Nonsense, I—”
“Do not say another word,” Lady Easton said. “All I can do is attempt to repair this situation. No more Alvanley. No, he is finished. I am arranging a dinner on Thursday and all the right people will be there and you will be there and there will not be an Alvanley in sight! There will be no jolly times in the presence of an actress. Not under my roof!”
“Now, my dear, you are never particularly jolly anyway and technically, it’s not our roof, but very well, if it pleases you.”
“Nothing pleases me at the moment,” she said sulkily. Never in her life had she had such a great urge to throw a plate at her lord’s head. It was maddening!
Edgar trotted back in again, though this time he brought reinforcements by way of Lord Bertridge.
