“Just at this moment,” Juliet said, “they are having a contest of things only a duke could do.”
Darden snorted. “I suppose there is no chance that some family member or friend can have a look at both men and pick out the real duke?”
“Sadly, no,” Miss Mayton said. “The children were too young when the duke left, the butler is nearly blind, the rest of the family are dead, and…well, the duke never did have a lot of friends.”
“Of course,” Darden said.
“I will paint while you read, Aunt,” Viola said. “I have a mind to start a new canvas and paint Chester.”
“Very good thought, my dear,” Miss Mayton said. “Goodness, Beatrice and Van Doren will soon come to open their house across the street, and we expect to hear from Rosalind any day. We are well on our way to another jolly season!”
Viola had every hope of it. She would walk into Almack’s and Lord Baderston would be there, waiting for her. He must be there. That was the only thing that would make her jolly.
Chapter Three
Roland had neverfelt anxious about encountering a lady in his entire life. He did now, though.
He’d arrived to Almack’s on the very early side and bided his time until he could approach Lady Jersey. Then, he’d made his request—he would wish to be given leave to put himself down on Lady Viola Bennington’s card.
Lady Jersey, having been in the world long enough to know when one ought to wonder about something, had a series of questions.
“How is it, Lord Baderston,” Lady Jersey said, “that you know Lady Viola? She is not yet out and she is not from your county.”
“Well, it is not so much that I know her,” Roland said. “It is just that her sister, Lady Rosalind, now the Duchess of Conbatten, did extoll her virtues quite compellingly.”
“That is all?”
“I did see her in the park one day last year,” he said. “She was out with her sisters.”
“And from that, you have somehow surmised that you have much in common?”
“The ‘much in common’ is to be discovered, though I imagine it will come to that,” Roland said. “I do know that we both prefer ham and are loyal sort of people.”
“Ham.”
Roland probably should have left out the part about ham. Now that he’d said it out loud it did not sound as compelling as it had when he’d been thinking about it.
“I rather wonder, Lord Baderston,” Lady Jersey said, “that you are not intent on securing Lady Clara’s card at the first opportunity.”
Of course, shewouldwonder—his mother kept up a correspondence with the lady and would have confided her plan. Roland wondered who else the dowager had informed of it.
Rather than answer outright, he just shrugged. Though he’d not said anything, Lady Jersey was astute enough to see where the wind was blowing on that particular subject.
“A shame,” she said quietly. “Very well, I give you leave to approach Lady Viola.”
It had been an uncomfortable interrogation, but he’d got what he wanted. She’d given him leave.
He should not mind being uncomfortable, as he was certain there would be ample opportunity for it in the coming weeks. At least, if his mother had anything to say about it.
The dowager, who did not particularly care for either London or parties, and who should have been resting comfortably in the dower house in Dorset, had come to Town.
He’d always kept her bedchamber in the London house just as she’d left it, for her particular use. But that was just a courtesy. She was not supposed to actually turn up to use it!
What a talk they’d had about it. He’d tried every reason he could think of to thwart her and stop her from coming. She would not be moved and was determined. What could he do? Was he to bar the lady from his house?
It was very tempting, but he did not do it.
She’d be on her way to Almack’s by now. Roland had claimed he must set off on his horse and could not escort her in the carriage because his animal needed exercise.
