“Oh, go murderyourself,” Tattleton said loudly.
“Bad man,” Chester answered.
“If I am, you have driven me to it!”
*
Viola had foundher conversation with Lord Baderston quite illuminating. Her aunt had been so clever to lead Lady Clara away so that they might have a confidential moment.
She’d had no idea so much talk had gone round about her family. It was encouraging that Lord Baderston thought so little about any of it. But then, none of those things had been about her. She must see that he took the very same approach regarding a thing said about her. She must see that he shook it off as being not worth his notice. She must see that his loyalty overrode all other considerations.
Viola had high hopes that he would do just that. After all, had he not said he’d rail against it? Had he not claimed he would condemn it and issue the cut direct as many times as necessary? Had he not even hinted at a duel?
Lord Baderston, your moment is close at hand, dear sir. Even now, Lady Clara will be passing along the story of the tinker’s boy, and then you may set to your work.
Viola had already seated herself in the front row, as she had been directed to by Lady Hightower, as she would be one of the players.
Viola glanced behind her as the lady’s guests arranged themselves and determined where to sit.
Lord Baderston had escorted Lady Jancallen to a chair, which was very considerate. The lady was eighty if she was a day and none too steady on her feet.
Darden had told Viola that though she used a cane to assist her, she had somehow never got used to it. She swung it around more than kept it on the ground. Last season, she’d managed to take Lord Gresham down to the floor at a card party after she threw it in frustration because she could not see her cards.
That, and the fact that she used an ear trumpet that must be shouted at if a person wished to communicate with the lady, made her a handful to escort. Viola imagined that there were more than a few gentlemen this evening who avoided the task, and she was proud of Lord Baderston for bravely stepping forward.
Viola was satisfied to see Lady Clara at the very back, whispering to some unknown lady.
It had begun. She was certain it had.
Miss Mayton sat directly behind her. Her aunt leaned forward and said quietly, “I trust you had an enjoyable conversation with Lord Baderston?”
“You were very clever to arrange it, Aunt,” she said.
Miss Mayton nodded. “Lady Clara was almost irate though, when she discovered that the fascinating item she was meant to be amazed by was an apple tart. Goodness, it can be difficult to think on one’s feet.”
Viola giggled, just as Lady Hightower said, “My beloved guests, every year we perform the same dazed and winding minuet round the chairs. Remember, whichever chair you choose is not to be your lifelong destination. There will be other chairs in other rooms in your future.”
After that gentle scolding, everyone did settle themselves more quickly.
“Excellent,” Lady Hightower said. “Here we are again, poised to welcome a group of new and charming young ladies onto the scene. I am sure you will agree that it is vital for a suitable lady to play proficiently, and I am always so proud that England does not forget it. First, let us hear from Lady Viola Bennington.”
Viola rose and was surprised to see most of Lady Hightower’s guests had very suddenly leaned forward. Some were even gripping the back of the chair in front of them. Goodness, nobody at home was ever so intently interested when a lady played at a musical evening.
She glanced at Miss Mayton to see if she had noticed.
Miss Mayton nodded knowingly and rose. “My dear gentlemen and ladies,” she said, “I think I understand you. However, I am sorry to inform you that it is only Lady Rosalind who performs the travels through the world of music.”
Now, Viola understood this seemingly intense interest. They’d had hopes of hearing something similar to Rosalind’s wildly unpredictable pieces.
Viola nodded. “I am afraid all I can provide is a rather simple sonata,” she said. “I am incapable of the feats of creativity that my sister can provide.”
There were disappointed looks all round, except for Lady Hightower, who appeared enormously relieved.
Viola sat down and began to play. She had come into the evening knowing her own skills. She was thoroughly competent, but no master. She was entirely satisfied with it, though.
After all, one person could not be talented in all areas and she did have her skill at an easel to list as an accomplishment.
In any case, the point of the whole evening, for her at least, was not the playing. It was Lord Baderston.
