Mrs. Right wrote out an acceptance to the invitation for the duke. Then, careful to imitate Lady Marchfield’s handwriting, she put it in the duke’s calendar as Lady Cyprion’s dinner, confirmed for the duke, Lady Felicity, and Lady Marchfield, along with the time and address.
“Now Felicity,” Mrs. Right said, “you know how sometimes I might ask you girls to trust me without explanation?”
Felicity nodded. “You have never steered us wrong,” she said.
“No never,” Serenity said. “Why, remember when you told us to take our fowling pieces up to the attics and fire out the windows when we caught sight of Mr. Weatherby coming to court you on your afternoon off? We never saw that fellow again.”
“It was quite necessary,” Mrs. Right said, “though I did not like to say why at the time. That person was very pushy. He would attempt to steal me from you.”
“Just so,” Patience said. “We did not know why we fired over the head of Mr. Weatherby, but it turned out to be for a very good reason.
“What is it we’re to do this time, Mrs. Right?” Grace asked.
“This is just for Felicity. On Tuesday next, Lady Cyprion is to hold a dinner. I wish you will pretend at planning to go until the very last minute, and then claim a headache. I wish the duke to take Lady Marchfield alone.”
“Gracious, it’s so mysterious!” Winsome said. “We might never work out why, like we did with Mr. Weatherby.”
“Oh, I expect you’ll know why, when all is said and done,” Mrs. Right said.
“You can count on me, Mrs. Right,” Felicity said.
Mrs. Right sighed contentedly. Her girls were really very good sorts. As a further cheer, Lady Marchfield would shortly find herself surrounded by courtesans.
It was very pleasant to think about.
*
Percy’s valet hadtaken his time with his clothes and accomplished the rather spectacular knot he calledThe Radcliff. Of course, he named itThe Radcliffsince his name was Radcliff. His valet’s sole ambition in life was to inspire envy and he wanted all the envious to know that his knot was invented by him. Percy might have thought the notion rather conceited, but for the fact that it really was well-done, and he appreciated the looks at it he got from other gentlemen. It was a Mail Coach somehow ending in a Barrel Knot—complicated and elegant.Nobody but Radcliff could understand how it was done, least of all Percy.
While Radcliff was working his magic with Percy’s neckcloth, he’d chattered on about the latest gossip he’d picked up from who knew where. According to the valet, news of Lady Felicity’s odd performance at Almack’s was widely spoken of. There was speculation that she was prone to fits of the inherited variety. Radcliff had even heard that there was betting regarding whether there would be a repeat performance.
Percy just hoped none of this talk reached Lady Felicity’s ears. She seemed to have a bit of a temper and it was not as if her father would rein her in. Percy could not imagine what she would do. After all, it was not as if she was well acquainted with reality and facts. He’d been surprised overhersurprise when he’d mentioned the duke’s eccentricity. How did she not see it?
Now, he was roaming round Lady Albright’s annual rout—a rather eccentric event itself. The lady kept a menagerie of animals, some in enclosures and some roaming free, some inside and some out of doors.
Percy recalled that last year her Tamarin monkey, Hugo was his name, had decided he was fed up with the crowd and its associated noise. In retaliation, he’d leapt from a chandelier into Lady Annabelle’s rather elaborately done hair. The monkey proceeded to tear at it as if he were determined to get to the bottom of it. As the lady screamed and pins flew in all directions, Lady Albright only admonished Hugo for being a mischievous imp before luring him away with a slice of pear.
Percy doubted Lady Annabelle would make a second appearance. He did, however, think that Lady Felicity would make an appearance. She’d told him that her father, the duke, would bring her, as he said it sounded hilarious. Her aunt, Lady Marchfield, had counseled against it and refused to accompanythem. That had seemed to be no matter as apparently the duke did not like his sister much.
Percy could well believe it, considering what he’d witnessed at their departure from the candlelight picnic. For all he knew, Lady Marchfield was just now wandering round the Seven Dials, the duke having pushed her out of his carriage.
“I still do not see what precisely we are meant to do,” Wiles said, brushing a red squirrel off the sideboard and pouring himself a glass of hock.
“Where is the confusion?” Percy said. “Lady Felicity will arrive and we’ll follow her about like two lovesick lotharios. If Rustmont turns up and sees it, wonderful. But the real point is that my father sees it and becomes convinced I am set on Lady Felicity even though she prefers you.”
“Does she know she is meant to prefer me?” Wiles asked.
“No, but she can barely stand the sight of me, so I think it should be obvious enough.”
“Where is your old gentleman anyway?”
“He’s around here somewhere,” Percy said, watching Lady Albright’s red squirrel creep back on the sideboard and begin collecting grapes. “He got waylaid by Sir Reynolds, but he’ll catch up to me as soon as he can—he tracks me like a hunter on a stag.”
“Is that a deer?” Wiles asked.
Percy looked at his friend. “Yes. It’s a male deer. How could you not know that?”
“No, I mean over there,” Wiles said, hooking his thumb.
