Juliet jumped from her seat. “I’ve written a new ode, Papa, if you would like to hear it.”
“Of course I would, my dear, but perhaps it is better saved for when it is just the family and Van Doren.”
“Do not say so, Earl!” Lord Dunston said, seeming just as enthusiastic to get Van Doren off the subject of the ruse. “We have had the privilege of hearing one of Lady Juliet’s odes already and are all quite eager to hear another.
“Seconded!” Lord Jericho said.
Juliet pulled a scrap of paper from her reticule. “Now mind you, this is written in honor of Conbatten.”
Beatrice pressed her lips together. She could not fathom why Juliet had written an ode to Conbatten. Nor could she fathom what Conbatten would think of it.
“Ah, the duke!” Sir William said, his voice filled with reverence.
“It is calledOde to a Duke Retrieving a Lady’s Card.”
Beatrice silently groaned. Perhaps this was not the right moment to poke at Van Doren’s behavior at the masque. Not while he was outraged at their ruse to draw the tortured gentleman out, her father sat right there, and he was so convinced the earl ought to know about it.
Juliet plowed on.
The duke does a favor, kindly meant,
Then is punished by a hot-tempered gent.
What could possibly transpire in that deranged mind,
But perhaps it has been lost, which would be about time.
Juliet curtsied. The earl roared with laughter. “Oh, that is very good, very good indeed. You see, Van Doren, she has heard of your taking Beatrice’s card from the duke.”
“I gathered that,” Van Doren said, his jaw muscles looking very tight.
“Say, that reminds me, Van Doren,” the earl continued, “how did you get on with the boy and the dog?”
Before Van Doren could answer, the earl said to the other gentlemen, “You see, last evening we came upon a group of boys pelting a dog with stones. Van Doren took the smallest boy and the dog home with him.”
“Now that is charitable, Van Doren,” Lord Dunston said. “But, what would you do with such creatures? I do not suppose the dog can hunt?”
“Only for its dinner in the kitchens, I imagine,” Van Doren said. To the earl, he said, “The boy does not know his name and has always been called Shrimps. He’s since named the dog Oyster. I planned to send them to the stables, but they are both wily creatures and remain in the kitchens.”
“Ah yes,” the earl said. “I suppose a young lad like that would prefer to stay close by food and fire.”
“That was precisely his reasoning,” Van Doren said drily.
Thinking to divert the conversation away from anything that had to do with last evening, Beatrice said, “My brother’s ball is on the morrow, my lords. In what ridiculous costume do you come?”
“That is a very great secret, Lady Beatrice,” Mr. Cahill said. “Darden has worked tirelessly to get us kitted out. We will surprise you with our ridiculousness.”
“Van Doren,” the earl said, “what will you wear?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Van Doren said. “Darden was to sort something out.”
“Whatever it is,” Lord Dunston said, “it is sure to amuse.”
“Amuse who?” Van Doren said.
Beatrice could not make him out. Van Doren was, just at this moment, sounding very like his old self. And yet, when he had arrived, he’d been more the new and temperamental Van Doren. Who was this back-and-forth person?
“I am to once again go in my widow’s weeds,” Miss Mayton said. “Lord Darden believes that, as I was never formally married, coming as a widow would pass muster at the door.”
