“If you mean Lady Felicity, yes I believe so.”
“Well here is something whimsical. It is whispered that the lady’s aunt, Lady Marchfield, was seen attending a cyprian’s party,” Radcliff said.
“A cyprian’s party? Lady Marchfield? That’s completely ridiculous.”
Radcliff shrugged. “It seems certain gentlemen of thetonwere in attendance and the story is that the duke brought her and then left her there.”
Percy mulled it over. That was slightly more believable, as who knew what the duke might do to amuse himself.
Or perhaps it was that housekeeper who had somehow arranged it. She had hinted at some mystery, some dinner that Felicity was meant to beg off at the last moment when he’d seen them all at Lackington & Allen.
Percy sat back. Of course. Lady Cyprion’s dinner. That was why he’d never heard of the lady.
Having a housekeeper who would dare such a thing was… a lot more whimsical than wishing to wear one’s best coat. It was also exactly the type of housekeeper the duke would choose.
“Apparently,” Radcliff went on, “once Lady Marchfield caught on to the place, she ran out shrieking. First, she was yelling “Roland!” But then his carriage turned a corner and disappeared into the night. Then she began shouting for a hackney. The courtesan running the event managed the whole thing, flagged her one, and then paid the driver. I imagine she was glad to see the back of the lady.”
Percy laughed in spite of himself. He did not know if all the details of this wild tale were true, but it was hilarious all the same.
“That duke sounds like he’s not all there upstairs,” Radcliff said.
“Oh, he’s all there, I can assure you,” Percy said. “He just doesn’t give a toss for… anything really. He says and does what he wants and, from my view, confounding Lady Marchfield is one of his principal amusements. Though, confounding my father must be a close second. He calls him Sir Pineapple, for reasons I won’t go into.”
“That duke sounds like a rum sort,” Radcliff said. “I only say, you might think carefully before connecting yourself to such a family.”
“Who said anything about me connecting myself?”
“Your father. He’s been raving about it all day.”
“He doesn’t know anything.”
“So you don’t have the interest, then? Might want to put the old soldier out of his misery.”
“The whole point of the ruse with Lady Felicity is to convince my father I’m set on her, but that she prefers Wiles.”
“Perhaps, but the viscount thinks thedukeis set on a match, which means Lady Felicity may be too, all on account of the duke tricking you to dine at his house.”
“I wish my father would just calm down, though I know it’s not in his nature.”
This caused Radcliff to laugh. “It certainly isn’t in his nature this moment. Just now, he’s in the front hall, making the footmen nervous and waiting for you to descend. He’s a hound at a fox den, waiting for his quarry to show itself.”
“Is he now,” Percy said. “He’s forgotten that any self-respecting fox den has more than one exit. I’ll tell you what, I’ll go down the servants’ stairs and slip out the back of the house.I can saddle my horse and be off before the hound is any the wiser.”
“And what am I to say about it when he asks where you are?”
“Just say you lost track of me—here one minute, disappeared the next, just like a fox. My best coat, Radcliff. There is not a moment to waste.”
*
Felicity and herfather were to travel to Lady Lewellyn’s ball sans Lady Marchfield. Her aunt had sent over a note saying she could not bear to be in such close quarters to her brother and she had no wish to be left behind at the end of the evening, as she so shamelessly had been at two other locations.
Felicity had the idea that the complaining note was meant to make her father feel terrible, though it seemed to have the opposite effect. He’d spent a half-hour outlining all the various locations he could leave Lady Marchfield, including a gaming hell, a pawn shop, and the dark walk in Covent Garden. He speculated that he was just getting started in thinking up places to leave the lady.
She met her father in the great hall. The duke was looking amused and the footmen were looking terrified. Felicity could not imagine what her father had been up to, though surely it was something.
“There you are, Felicity,” the duke said. “Go ahead and ask one of these lads where Mr. Why is this moment. What is the reason our esteemed butler is not here at the ready to see us off, you wonder. Go ahead, ask them.”
Felicity looked enquiringly at the footmen. Charlie said, “I believe, Lady Felicity, that Mr. Sykes-Wycliff is—”
