Roland walked intoLady Hightower’s house all determination. Though he did not find sitting through piece after piece of music played by nervous young ladies very invigorating, he always attended her soiree. Boring it might be, but he was fond of Lady Hightower and did not like to let her down. However, on this night he would not be at all bored, as one of those young ladies that would play was to be Lady Viola.
He had attended the year before and had witnessed Lady Rosalind’s performance, which was much talked of at the time. Now the Duchess of Conbatten, the lady had been the author of a truly bizarre turn at the pianoforte. It had been a mishmash of styles, all run together, that she called a ‘travel through the world of music.’
Roland wondered if it was some sort of style that was a tradition in the family and if Lady Viola would provide an equally strange offering. He did not care. In fact, he hoped for it. It could be a thing he defended her on to prove his loyalty. Let people say her playing was odd—he would rail against them! He would argue that Vivaldi and Haydn were mere hacks when compared to Lady Viola.
He strode into the drawing room. There she was. She nearly took his breath away.
She was dressed in the loveliest aubergine gown, her cheeks were blooming, and the various shades of her hair shined in the candlelight.
Lady Viola really did make other ladies seem drab. Her person and her temperament were all color and life!
Miss Mayton was there too, swimming in black bombazine. She was an odd creature. However, she did seem particularly pleased to see him, which fostered some warm feelings toward her.
He was less pleased to see Lady Clara standing with them. He’d not spoken much to her after the exceedingly awkward visit to his estate with her parents, not even when they’d danced at Almack’s. He was sure she was not particularly partial to him, but he was not so sure if she was prepared to ignore her parents’ bidding.
He supposed he’d always known that some ladies were rather calculating in their foray into the marriage mart, that they would employ a cool eye and look for the highest rank they could land. But, it had never hit home as hard as it had when his mother had revealed that she’d been just such a creature. It had somehow imbued the idea with more substance and made it more real.
Then, of course, he could never be sure what, if anything, his mother had said to the lady. Whatever it was, he could at least be certain it had been encouraging.
Miss Mayton wildly waved. Where Lady Viola was, he would go. Regardless of Lady Clara’s presence. He made his way over.
“Miss Mayton, Lady Viola, Lady Clara,” he said, bowing.
“Lord Baderston,” Lady Viola said.
She did seem very pleased to see him. That was a relief. He still did not know what his mother had said to Lady Viola at the theatrical evening, but it seemed it had not had any lingering effect.
“Now,” Miss Mayton said, “I did so long to show Lady Clara a particularly fascinating item on the sideboard just now, if it would not be too terrible to leave you for a few moments.”
“Something fascinating on the sideboard?” Lady Clara asked, as if that were indeed news to her.
“Yes, precisely, come, my dear lady. Prepare to be amazed,” Miss Mayton said, taking Lady Clara’s arm and rather forcefully steering her away.
Miss Mayton really was a dear to do it! Now he had his moment. There was so much to say.
“Lady Viola,” he began, “my mother would not reveal what she might have said to you at Lady Rawley’s theatrical evening, but I have told her in no uncertain terms that if it was anything at all unpleasant, I thoroughly denounce it and I threatened to send her packing. As well, I was forced to depart without taking a proper leave of you, as she claimed she was ill.”
Lady Viola blushed and Roland could see at once that his worst fears were realized. The words spoken to Lady Viola that night had been unpleasant indeed.
“Might I enquire into what she said?” he asked.
“Well,” she said slowly, “for one thing, the dowager said my family was responsible for unpleasant gossip.”
“Did she,” Roland said in a growly voice. “She fails to realize that I have not a care for anything that might have been said about your sisters or Miss Mayton.”
“Things have been said?” she asked, seeming as if that was news to her.
“Only trifles, I assure you,” he said. “There has perhaps been mention of Lady Beatrice’s wide array of suitors, which I do not even understand the significance of. And then, maybe there was some talk about a kidnapping? Though that was so absurd as to fade away quickly. And I suppose there are some who wonder why Miss Mayton wears widow’s weeds? But in my opinion, a person ought to be allowed to wear anything they like, within the bounds of decency.”
“Oh, I see,” Lady Viola said. “Goodness, I hadn’t realized she meant so many different things!”
“I do not care what she meant,” Roland said. “She can point to nothing said againstyou. Nothing at all.”
“What if she could, though?” Lady Viola said. “What if somethingweresaid about me? What if some sort of gossip were to travel round and everybody was talking of it?”
“It is a preposterous idea.”
“One never knows, though.”
