“Should you?” she asked.
“Yes,” Harry said with determination. “I most definitely should.”
Lady Isabel gave him her card, albeit reluctantly. She was such a contrary creature. He was certain she liked him and yet she was always trying to push him away. All because of her wrong-headed ideas. No matter, when it came to it, he was certain she would not refuse him. Frightened she might be, but she would not throw her future away because of it.
He took his opportunity and wrote himself down for her supper. The duchess would not approve, but he did not much care.
She saw that he had done so and said quietly, “Oh.”
“Yes, I know. The duchess will be as mad as a large bull in a small pen on a hot day,” he said. “I have every confidence she will not die of the feeling, though.”
The duchess returned to Lady Isabel and Harry glanced behind him to see if Lady Featherstone had been reduced to tears or whether Lady Redfield had yet tipped over in her wooden shoes.
Lady Redfield was now hanging on the arm of Lord Jeffries to remain standing. Lady Featherstone had her chin up in an expression of firm resolve. Lady Mendleton clutched her doll as if the duchess had threatened to make off with it. Which she probably had.
“Mr. Vance,” the duchess said.
Harry attempted not to smile. Her words might only beMr. Vance, but her meaning was closer toGet away from my girl this instant you nobody of a person.
The duchess reached for Lady Isabel’s card, and she slowly handed it over.
“Supper? Really, Mr. Vance. I cannot have this, I just cannot—”
She was interrupted in whatever awful thing she planned to say by Lord Lymington, who’d just lumbered over to them.
If his tight doublet and even tighter breeches were not enough to stun the senses, his hat would complete the job. It was a squat cap sporting an alarmingly long yellow ostrich feather that waved enthusiastically back and forth as if it attempted to catch somebody’s attention.
“Lady Isabel, Duchess, Vance, how do you do? Duchess, what weather! The dolphins are at it again, eh? Contrary creatures. Lady Isabel, may I?” he asked, holding his hand out for her card. Then, seeing no card, he looked about confused.
The duchess handed it over with a sigh.
“Vance! You devil! You got on for supper. Well, that’s all right. I’ll take the first. Lady Isabel, I’ve written my mother all about things here in Town—you, the dolphins, weather in general, no more horse talk! I’ve made that clear. She’ll like that, she’s always telling me to shut up about MacBeth.”
A silence lingered then, as nobody quite knew what to say about Lord Lymington’s mother telling him to shut up.
The duchess finally cleared her throat and said, “Tell me of your costume, Lord Lymington.”
“Romeo. You know, from the play,” Lord Lymington said. He paused and looked as if something troubled him. “Though, that poor fellow really ought to have called a doctor instead of just deciding she was dead. Juliet, you know. I cannot like it. I’ve always thought that was a mistake.”
Harry pressed his lips together tight. Romeo had made amistake? Rather!
“What do you think, Vance?” Lymington asked him. “Did he not make a mistake there?”
Harry was doing all he could to maintain some appearance of seriousness. “It seems they did not have a lick of sense between them,” he said.
“That’s true!” Lord Lymington said. “It cannot be right to kill oneself with so little thinking over.”
“Certainly not,” Harry said, his stomach beginning to pain him from holding in his laughter.
He bowed and then bowed out before laughter overtook him. It was likely well that he did so. If he lingered, he would end up laughing. Or worse, the duchess might come up with some idea to thwart him.
For now, he was on Lady Isabel’s card for supper and not a duchess or an ill-advised Romeo could get him off.
This was his moment. His future was within reach.
As Henry V said,unto the breach.
*
