“But what of Van Doren?” Beatrice asked. “Certainly, there cannot be ladies wild over him.”
Lynette began to work on her hair. “It’s funny, I saw him getting on his horse the other day and for a moment I did not recognize him. I did think, now there is a dashing gentleman. But then, I realized who it was.”
That summed up Beatrice’s feelings fairly succinctly. There was something unsettling about taking a step back and viewing Van Doren as a stranger. Hewasdashing then. She was so used to viewing him otherwise, though.
These other ladies, these feminine lips that Mr. Cahill had spoken of, they were viewing him as she did herself sometimes. When she stepped back.
“I wonder if he will ever love a lady,” Beatrice murmured.
“Oh, I expect so,” Lynette said. “He seems all practicality now, but some lady or other will drive him to distraction.”
Beatrice noticed she felt rather sick at the idea. Van Doren. Driven to distraction. Might he even tear at his hair?
Lynette put the final touches to her own hair and added a thin gold chain to go round her neck.
Beatrice ought to be caught up with the divine dress she wore, a seafoam green silk, or how well Lynette had composed her hair, or what sort of people she might encounter at Lady Worsted’s rout. Rather, she was caught up with imagining Van Doren driven to distraction.
It seemed very out of character for him. And a little fascinating.
*
Darden had calleda meeting ofCampaign Shenanigansat the YBC. He had gathered Cahill, Dunston, Jericho, and Sir William in one of the smaller coffee rooms.
“Well, gentlemen, our plan is underway and going at a fast clip. It seems both my sister and Van Doren were entirely uncomfortable with the proceedings today—exactly how we want them.”
“Van Doren looked vexed as anything to find us in your drawing room,” Lord Jericho said. “Splendid idea to make our arrival so boisterous—he could not have missed it.”
“I saw his valet poke his head out the door over the ruckus as I was leaving,” Darden said. “Naturally, he would have gone running to his master to alert him to it.”
“He was clearly aggravated to find you had left your sister alone with a heap of gentlemen,” Lord Dunston said.
“Oh yes, I knew he would be,” Darden said.
“Darden, you missed a very nice touch. We said feminine lips all over Town are just now whispering the name Van Doren,” Sir William said, laughing.
“Excellent. We assault them from both sides,” Darden said. “Van Doren is led to believe that Beatrice has a slew of admirers and Beatrice is now convinced that ladies everywhere have set their cap on Van Doren.”
“And then Lady Juliet put the final touches on it by poking Van Doren about his scolding,” Cahill said. “She recited a poem naming him Scoldy-Breeches. He was rather raw over it.”
“Poor Van Doren,” Darden said. “He is such a good and reliable fellow, but he is often rather raw over something.”
“What next?” Lord Jericho asked. “What is our next move?”
“Tonight,” Darden said. “They both attend Lady Worsted’s rout. We continue on with the campaign. We point out to Beatrice all the ladies we suspect of having set their cap on Van Doren. Some of them are actually true, I suspect. Lady Clara and Lady Mary in particular.”
The gentlemen nodded as if they had just received military orders.
“Then, you are all to sing Lady Beatrice’s praises to Van Doren,” Darden continued. “And perhaps hint you are not alone in the admiration—there are others interested in her too. Perhaps we even hint Conbatten has his eye on her?”
“Conbatten,” several of the gentlemen murmured, as if they had just heard the word of God.
“I suppose we still have not resolved whether to invite him to join the club?” Lord Jericho asked.
“Well…he might say no,” Darden said.
“Or more worrying,” Sir William said, “he might say yes.”
They were all silent for some minutes, none of them knowing what to do about Conbatten. It would be a feather in their club’s cap were the duke to join, but then what to say to the man if he turned up for a coffee or cards?
