He was very tall, nearly a head over both Darden and Van Doren, his hair a dusky blond and his eyes hooded and deep blue. It was perhaps not so much his looks that struck, but there was something in his manner. It was as if he’d swept up all the confidence to be had in the world and put it in his pockets.
“Darden,” the gentleman said, in a tone that Beatrice could only conclude was sophisticated and perhaps a little bored.
To her surprise, her brother appeared a bit flustered. “Your Grace,” he said.
“Lady Jersey has extolled the virtues of Lady Beatrice and given me leave to claim a dance,” the man said.
“Certainly!” Darden said, enthusiastically. “The Duke of Conbatten, may I present my sister, Lady Beatrice Bennington. And this is Viscount Van Doren.”
The duke executed an elegant bow, stood, and seamlessly took Beatrice’s card from her hands. He put himself down for a later dance, the one that would come before supper.
“Charmed,” he said, and then drifted off into the crowd.
Beatrice looked at Darden, who appeared rather starstruck.
“Darden,” she said, “do you know the duke well? You seemed rather awkward in his presence.”
“He is not one of my intimates, nor is he anybody’s as far as I know. Conbatten, well, he is Conbatten, after all. We’ve talked about asking him to join the YBC, but we find ourselves terrified that he would decline, and then more terrified that he would accept.”
“Why?” Van Doren asked.
Beatrice would have liked to appear derisive over Van Doren’s confusion, but she was rather confused herself.
“Did you not look at him? Or hear him?” Darden asked, seeming incredulous over their lack of comprehension. “He is, well there is an air about him. Nobody understands how he gets his neckcloth into such a knot. It is a popular sport to discover who his tailor is, as nobody knows how he gets his coats cut to such perfection. Even Brummel finds himself outclassed. It is said that Conbatten spends three hours at his toilette, must have his bath at precisely ninety-eight degrees, and ends with a glass of chilled champagne.”
“That sounds ridiculous,” Van Doren said.
“Perhaps for the likes of us,” Darden said. “Though somehow, whatever Conbatten chooses to do, he makes it seem…well, very Conbatten. And, while he’s going around looking like the magnificent Conbatten, he does everything he tries at expertly. He rides his own horses at Newmarket, he is a favorite sparring partner of Gentleman Jackson’s, and his dinner parties are unparalleled, if you can wrangle an invitation. While others pay great amounts to have a pineapple sitting on their table, Conbatten will send you home with your own.”
“I shall not allow him to frighten me,” Beatrice said, “no matter how long he spends in a bath or how many pineapples he’s handed out.”
Another gentleman approached. A certain Baron Farthington, who seemed a pleasant gentleman. Then another, and so on it went, Lady Jersey having composed her partners for the evening.
Darden had introduced both her and Van Doren to Lady Clara, a lady of similar age, and Beatrice was surprised to see both Darden and Van Doren put themselves on her card. And Van Doren be so pleasant to her, for that matter.
Just as he’d been at the inn while attending to Miss Austen, he seemed a different person when he spoke to ladies outside of the Bennington circle.
She did not know what she had supposed Van Doren would be doing all evening, if not dancing. Somehow, she’d had a vague idea of him standing at the edges of the floor whileshedanced.
“Now Darden,” Lady Clara said, “I must steal your friend away. Everybody will wish to know Lord Van Doren and I am determined to take him round the room. I can see Lady Mary sending me meaningful glances already.”
With that rather stunning development, Lady Clara led the smiling Van Doren away and into the crowd.
“How odd,” Beatrice said.
“Lady Clara?” Darden asked.
“Van Doren,” Beatrice said. “Why should the lady be so bold on his behalf?”
Darden laughed. “I think, Bea, you are too used to viewing Van Doren’s countenance. To you, it is a familiar face. To the ladies in this room, however, he is the handsome lord just arrived and must be found quite interesting.”
“Van Doren?” Beatrice said. Of course, she understood him to be handsome. Those times when she could ignore what he was saying and look at him as a stranger, he had always struck her as such. She just had not considered how other ladies might view him.
“Well, I imagine their interest will wane once they are in receipt of a lecture and a scolding,” Beatrice said.
Darden smiled. “Have no fear on that score. As far as I can tell, he is only inclined to scold and lectureyou.”
“Perhaps that is so, but they will not find any romance in him. Not a single drop of it,” Beatrice said, slightly embarrassed that she could hear what sounded an almost petulant tone in her voice.
