Beatrice thought they must be right. It was too extravagant to be from anybody who wasnottortured over her. It was also exceedingly regrettable. The tortured gentleman was set to reveal himself, only to discover he’d come too late. Her feelings had drifted somewhere else.
Much to her surprise, Tattleton returned. Surely, there could not be more flowers?
“Lady Jersey,” he announced, his eyes wide as saucers.
Beatrice leapt to her feet, as did Miss Mayton and her sisters. They all curtsied low at the lady’s approach. “Lady Beatrice, Miss Mayton,” Lady Jersey said, looking round the drawing room. “I presume these are younger sisters?”
“Yes, Lady Jersey,” Beatrice said, rather wondering at the lady’s sudden appearance in the house.
“You may send them away,” Lady Jersey said. “I wish to speak to you on a matter.”
Juliet looked poised to speak, but Rosalind squeezed her shoulder and she thought better of it. She, Juliet, Viola, and Cordelia curtsied and filed out of the room, just as Tattleton hurried in with a tea service.
“I see your house readies for your ball,” Lady Jersey said.
“Indeed, my lady,” Beatrice said.
Lady Jersey turned to Tattleton. “I suspect you are run off your feet. Do carry on, sir, we will be quite all right fending for ourselves.”
Tattleton bowed deeply and Beatrice knew him well enough to know he was suitably struck by the sentiment. Perhaps it would make up for the kittens’ foray into the sugar icing.
After the door closed behind him, Beatrice poured the tea. She did not know why Lady Jersey had come, nor why her sisters must be sent away, but she worked hard not to be overawed.
Lady Jersey suddenly appeared cognizant of Miss Mayton’s current mode of dress. “Dear lady, I fear you have suffered a recent tragedy. My condolences.”
“Oh it is not recent, I’m afraid,” Miss Mayton said.
“I see,” Lady Jersey said, puzzled. “At Almack’s, I did not recall you dressed in—”
“It is rather complicated,” Beatrice said quickly.
Lady Jersey, astute woman that she was, gathered that whatever the circumstance, it was probably best left unexplored.
She gazed round the room at the vases of red roses. “I presume for the ball? I would not have had them delivered so early, but with the proper care I dare say they will be all right.”
Beatrice nodded, as it seemed impossible to explain that they’d been sent by a tortured gentleman whose identity remained a mystery.
“Lady Beatrice, I am so fond of your father that I felt I must come here directly after hearing the most shocking report.”
Beatrice paled. Whatever it was, it sounded very bad. What could it be, though? She could not think of anything she’d done…unless Darden’s scheme to draw out the tortured gentleman had somehow come to light.
“My lady?” she asked.
“It seems that Lord Van Doren, who I personally vouched for on Darden’s recommendation, has made a spectacle of himself and dragged you into it.”
“Lord Van Doren? A spectacle?” Beatrice said. Could Lady Jersey refer to Van Doren taking her card from Conbatten? Certainly, that had not been a spectacle. Ill-advised, but not a spectacle.
“You see, Lady Jersey,” Miss Mayton said, “Beatrice is confused because Lord Van Doren does not have the sort of feelings that would lead to an actualspectacle.” She leaned forward and said, “Confidentially, he does not seem to have much in the way of feelings at all.”
Lady Jersey sipped her tea and set it down. “Is it correct that Lord Van Doren attended Lord Darden’s club ball as a bird of some sort?”
“A pigeon, yes,” Beatrice said. “It was as ridiculous as it was meant to be, and I do not think he appreciated it.”
“A pigeon, yes, that is what I was told. Whether or not he was delighted with it is rather beside the point. A gentleman dressed as a pigeon approached Lord Harveston, one of the club members. As everyone was masked and the baron is of similar build, meaning he is unusually tall, that gentleman was taken for Conbatten.”
Goodness. Did Van Doren say something wrong to the duke? Or rather, Lord Harveston who had been taken for the duke?
Beatrice remembered Van Doren’s words—thegreatConbatten, said so scathingly.
