Percival nodded. It was a small victory, but at least he’d won some sort of victory. He did not suppose he would come out victorious on any other matter when it came to Hamill, lest it involve a debate.
“I arranged it all,” Lady Rawley said proudly.
And…his small victory just went up in a puff of smoke.
“Miss Mayton,” the earl said, “shall we repair to the card room and trounce another couple at whist?”
“Let’s do,” Miss Mayton said. “I will tell a few stories from my days on the continent—that always does throw the play in our favor. Who can concentrate on the cards when they are in the midst of pondering that Gregorio dealt himself a deadly blow? I will just see that Cordelia has been taken on the floor for the first.”
Though Percival might have expected any rational person to be very surprised at Miss Mayton’s mention of Gregorio and his deadly blow, the earl just nodded genially throughout.
“I should very much like to see the sideboard,” Lady Rawley said, “if, Earl, you would not mind escorting me in that direction. I would not be opposed to securing a plate of sweets.”
“Oh no, Lady Rawley,” the earl said, shaking his head sadly.
“No?” Lady Rawley asked.
“Come, dear lady, and I will acquaint you with the offerings here,” the earl said, leading the lady toward the card room.
Apparently, his aunt was not aware that the patronesses wore their poor offerings as some badge of honor. Lady Rawley would soon discover it, though.
Darden said, “Miss Mayton, I will escort you both so that my sister may be introduced to Lady Jersey. Harveston, Hamill.”
Percival bowed and found himself left with Hamill.
“Very pretty little filly,” Hamill said, watching Lady Cordelia stroll away with her brother.
Percival did not answer, though he could not imagine that any lady would like to know she’d been called a filly, pretty or otherwise.
“Darden tells me she’s set on a Corinthian; I suppose that was why Miss Mayton had me dragged over.”
Lady Cordelia was set on a Corinthian, was she? The idea was exceedingly annoying.
“Gad, though,” Hamill said, “before you arrived with her card, she asked me for my views on Desdemona and whether that lady ought to have died.”
“And what did you say?” Percival asked.
“I said I did not know Lady Desdemona. Do you?”
“Only at a distance,” Percival said drily, “when I have seen her at a playhouse.”
“Well, you won’t see her there anymore. She is dead, apparently.”
Percival pressed his lips together. What world did he live in that approved of a body accomplishing physical feats while the mind attached to it sloshed around its skull like thin porridge?
What world did he live in when a woman like Lady Cordelia was determined to chain herself to such a man?
Percival sighed. England’ston. That was the world he lived in. If one were not poised to break one’s neck or be run through with a sword or have one’s face boxed in, one was not very interesting.
*
Cordelia had beenvery confused by what had occurred upon entering Almack’s. Lady Rawley had all but forced Lord Harveston to put himself down for her supper.
He’d not liked to do it, she could see that very well.
What had been the lady’s aim? It had all been so awkward.
Then, after Lord Harveston was sent off to retrieve her card as if he were a footman sent on an errand, Miss Mayton pointed out Lord Hamill. Her aunt had urged Darden that he ought to wave him over.
