“He does seem changed by London,” Darden said. “What do you think, Bea? Is Van Doren not improved?”
Beatrice found the question very uncomfortable. She did not know if Van Doren was changed or improved or if her view of him was changed and improved.
“He does not scold so much,” she said vaguely, “which of course is an improvement.”
“Did you notice that he seemed more interested in the one-eyed duke and his governess than he has in the past,” Miss Mayton said from behind her lace veil. “I am sure I noted it last evening.”
“Did you?” the earl said jovially. “I had not perceived it.”
“Perhaps his interest was piqued by the one-eyed duke’s murderous rampage through the village,” Beatrice said. Her tone verged on petulant, though she did not know why it should be so.
“I think Van Doren is coming into his own,” Darden said. “He is becoming the gentleman he was destined to be and we should all forget the scolder he once was.”
With that bizarre notion, they proceeded to Lady Bloomington’s masque.
They were not long on the journey as they only traveled to Mayfair. There was a fairly long line of carriages lined up on the road to Lady Bloomington’s house, and so they would likely spend more time waiting than they had being driven.
Darden opened the carriage windows, claiming the night was so mild it would be a shame not to do so. The nightwasmild, but Beatrice thought her brother was far more interested in hailing other gentlemen he was acquainted with who arrived on horseback.
Beatrice had thought they would have Van Doren at the window, but he seemed to have disappeared behind them somewhere. Rather, Mr. Cahill and Lord Dunston came together, both atop their horses. Mr. Cahill was a vicar and Lord Dunston was Dick Turpin, though Beatrice had to inquire to be told he was the famed highwayman.
The two gentlemen were in high spirits and recounting the success of Lady Bloomington’s last masque. Apparently, Lady Bloomington kept the champagne flowing and there were some who awoke the next day very glad they had been behind a mask.
“You see,” Lord Jericho said, “it is not just in the refreshment room. There is a pause between every dance and footmen come round with it on trays.”
“As well as food, though they are tiny little things,” Mr. Cahill said.
Lord Jericho nodded. “Lady Bloomington has connections to France and she calls the little bites her entremets. As you take one, you are handed a linen napkin. A fresh one each time! The laundry must be astronomical.”
“I was told,” Mr. Cahill said, “that this abundance of carefully composed food and top-notch champagne is Lady Bloomington’s answer to Almack’s sour lemonade and dry bread, as she has never been issued an invitation.”
“Well, she would not have been,” Lord Jericho said with a laugh. “It is well known that she discomfited Lady Castlereagh by her opinions on Lord Castlereagh’s politics.”
Quite suddenly, Darden looked almost startled. Mr. Cahill and Lord Dunston slowly followed his eyes.
Goodness, it was Conbatten and all three gentlemen looked a bit faint. Beatrice really did feel they put the duke on a high pedestal he neither required nor asked for.
The duke wore a domino with the hood thrown back and maneuvered his horse round the carriages. He nodded to Lord Dunston and Mr. Cahill and they backed up their horses to give him room to approach the carriage.
“Darden, Lady Beatrice, Lord Westmont, and…is that you, Mrs. Mayton?” the duke asked.
“Yes, it is me, Your Grace. Though, it isMissMayton.”
There was only a flicker of surprise across the duke’s features. “Pardon the mistake, my good lady.”
“Think nothing of it,” Miss Mayton said with gracious condescension.
Beatrice suppressed a smile. She did not suppose the dukewouldthink much of it.
“Now tell me, Lady Beatrice,” the duke said, “what lady do you come as?”
“I am Lady Beatrice fromMuch Ado about Nothing,” she said, turning her head so that he might seeMuch Adowritten on the back band.
“Very clever,” Conbatten said.
“Do you think so?” Darden asked. He sounded very much like a schoolboy looking for approval.
“As I have said,” Conbatten said smoothly. “May I hope,” he said to Beatrice, “that you fully intend to verbally joust your way through the evening in a Shakespearian fashion?”
