“Eh, Mister,” the duke had said to him, “no sign of that stupendous pineapple that was to knock us flat with amazement?”
“No, Your Grace,” Percy said, certain his face had gone red.
“It was all invented, Papa,” Lady Felicity said laughing. “Lord Denderby made the whole thing up.”
“Did he now?” the duke said, appearing very amused. “Rather eccentric of him. But then, some of those in this townareexceedingly odd.”
Percy had attempted to keep his expression neutral. If anybody lacked in self-awareness, it was the Duke of Pelham.
“Now my girl, are we done staggering around in dim rooms?” the duke asked. “Can we go?”
Lady Felicity had nodded and said, “Yes, I believe everything that can be accomplished this evening has been. Mr. Stratton? Do not forget our conversation.”
As if he had any hope of forgetting.
Not a half hour later, just as he’d found a quiet corner and was soothing himself with a whopping glass of brandy, Lady Marchfield suddenly appeared in front of him.
He rose. “Lady Marchfield.”
“Mr. Stratton, have you seen Lady Felicity and the duke?”
“Oh, they’ve gone,” he’d answered.
“Gone!” she’d nearly shouted. “When?”
“Um, I suppose a quarter-hour past?” Percy said, nonplussed at what upset the lady.
“A quarter-hour—they may still wait for the carriage,” Lady Marchfield muttered.
The lady spun round and actually jogged from the room.
Percy put his brandy down and followed her out. He could not account for what had upset the lady, but such was her upset that he was curious to find out. Perhaps Lady Felicity had borrowed that enormous emerald round her neck and Lady Marchfield was determined to get it back before it disappeared into the duke’s household forever.
In a matter of moments he was on the lady’s heels, headed out of doors. That was when he witnessed the capstone to the whole evening. And what a capstone it had been.
Lady Marchfield had flown out the doors without even collecting her wrap. Outside, she ran down the pavement after the duke’s carriage as it trotted away, shouting, “Roland!”
First the carriage sped up, then it slowed and came to a stop. The duke opened the carriage door and, loud enough for anybody on the street to hear said, “I’ll drop you at the Seven Dials, or the nearest gin shop, whichever you prefer!”
Lady Marchfield climbed into the carriage, the door shut, and they trotted off as if nothing at all had happened.
As far as Percy could guess at it, the duke had brought Lady Marchfield and then thought it would be amusing to leave herthere. Then, when she caught up to him, it further amused him to claim he’d leave her at a rookery.
And Lady Felicity and the duke accusedhisfather of being eccentric for inventing a phantom pineapple!
She was exceedingly eccentric herself and insulting too. His ears still burned over her idea that perhaps he alone was not enough to pique Rustmont’s jealousy because he was not particularly significant. Percy Stratton was most definitely significant!
Just now, he headed into White’s. It was still early, but he knew that Wiles usually came in first thing for coffee and to read the newspapers. The gentleman had a houseful of sisters who he claimed made a racket day and night and made it hard to think. White’s was his refuge.
Percy had not yet devised a plan to lure Wiles into this farce, but he was sure something would come to him.
On his way in, he glanced at the bet book. Then he glanced at it again. Then he stopped.
Will Lady F require any more emergency handkerchiefs this season? Bets end in a fortnight.
Apparently, Lord Hardwick had come up with it. The gentleman had witnessed Lady Felicity’s fit at Almack’s and decided to make a game of it. Percy knew why, too. Hardwick and Rustmont were like oil and water. Hardwick was a jokester and Rustmont was often seen frowning at him or claiming he’d gone too far. For his own amusement, Hardwick decided that Rustmont should not be allowed to forget what they’d all seen on the ballroom floor that evening.
The betting appeared to be split down the middle.
