“Here we are!” Darden said, in a tone that was far more enthusiastic than one generally employs to announce an arrival.
Chapter Six
Percival could notremember when he had ever encountered Lady Rawley at Almack’s on a Wednesday. He could not remember, because it had never happened.
She was here now, though.
His aunt spotted him and was making fast headway in his direction.
Almost as if she’d been waiting for him.
He suppressed a sigh. He’d just handed off his coat and had not even got all the way into the ballroom yet.
“My dear nephew,” she said.
“Aunt,” he said, working to keep his tone pleasant, “I am surprised to see you here.”
“You would be, I never do attend. But then, I had an excellent notion and got myself an invitation. Lady Rondeleigh secured me a stranger’s ticket. What a palaver, you would think Lady Castlereagh was the queen of the world.”
“You said you had a notion?” Percival asked warily, ignoring the rest of what she said.
Lady Rawley did not appear to be paying attention to him. Her eyes were on the doors behind him.
She very suddenly smiled and waved. “Ah, and here is the notion, just coming in.”
Percival turned his head to see the Earl of Westmont, Darden, Miss Mayton, and Lady Cordelia approaching.
Lady Cordelia was looking rather smashing in a dark green dress. Most of the ladies in attendance were dressed in pastels and she was like a forest queen of the faeries come to have a look at her flowers.
Percival was very suddenly filled with dread, his mind catching up to his aunt’s words.
She’d said she had a notion. Of course that had instantly caught his attention. Whenever she mentioned having had a notion, it was always less of a notion and more of a very bad idea.
Now he was to discover that Lady Rawley had clearly been waiting for Miss Mayton and Lady Cordelia to arrive.Theywere the notion.
Why? Did it have something to do with their acting troupe?
Would Lady Agatha and Mrs. Robinson be springing out from behind drapes, the whole company descending upon Almack’s?
Had they all come here to advertise their theatrical? Or worse, attempt to perform any of it?
Both scenarios would be entirely absurd, but that would not slow down Lady Rawley. Her ill-advised notions had run far and wide for as long as he could remember. Lord Rawley used to live in terror of her notions.
Had she not had a notion to host a dinner comprised of fourteen ways to serve chicken? Poor Lord Rawley had not known of the plan so he’d ended just as surprised as his dinner guests. He’d told Percival afterward that most of the dinner conversation had run along the lines of, “Goodness, more chicken.”
Then there had been the time she wished to change their name to Rawleystone, feeling it had a better sound to it. Lord Rawley had been obliged to outline the cold, hard fact that one could not just change a title.
Only three years ago, she’d paid to have her “novel” published, which turned out to be just a listing of the unpleasant qualities of one person after another that she did not like, with the names thinly veiled. Lord Rawley had scoured the town, bought all the copies, and then burnt them in the back garden.
Percival was of the opinion that her adventure in novel writing was what had finally done his uncle in.
Now, though, Lord Rawley was long gone and that meant his aunt had free rein with her notions.
“My dear Lady Rawley,” Miss Mayton said. “I feel you must know the earl and Lord Darden?”
“Indeed, I do,” Lady Rawley said. “And of course, the lovely Lady Cordelia.”
Darden had greeted Percival and swiftly introduced him to the earl.
