Mrs. Featherby had risen to lead the ladies to the drawing room. Her father rose too and said, “I will just have a word with my daughter in the hall. Then, gentlemen, I’ll happily drink you under the table.”
This was met with hearty laughter, though Grace really hoped her father did not plan on it. He could be a handful when he was drunk.
In the hall, the duke determinedly waited until both the drawing room and dining room doors were closed. Then he turned to a footman and said, “Retrieve my daughter’s cloak and call my carriage.”
“Papa?” Grace asked, very much fearing he was unwell.
“This is no place for us, my girl,” the duke said in a low voice. “Or not you, anyway.”
As the party was not large, their coachman was just down the street. He pulled up to the doors in a matter of minutes. The duke hustled Grace inside and rapped on the roof.
As the carriage pulled away, Grace said, “Goodness, you had better tell me what that was all about.”
“What that was all about was a rather low party hostessed by the Earl of Doanellen’s mistress.”
“Oh! I see. I had thought she was a sister, but then Baron Montclave said she was a very good friend.”
“I did not initially perceive what the relationship was myself. About halfway through the dinner, it finally penetrated my mind.”
Grace said, “Is that why Mr. Howard named her a bird of paradise? I thought it might be her clothes, but perhaps it was… her relationship to the earl.”
The duke laughed long and hard over her speculation. “She is a bird of paradise in every sense of the word, clothes included.”
“I should not have accepted that invitation,” Grace said.
“Nor should Wembly have accepted it and brought along Lady Lavender. I’d say if he had any sense he’d pull her out as I did you, but he’s in his cups. Dashed irresponsible.”
“But then, how could I know not to accept the invitation, Papa? I do not know anybody personally, you do not ever remember anybody, and Lord Doanellen is an earl. Do you suppose we ought to go to my aunt and have her review the other invitations I’ve accepted?”
“Not on your life. I never give up a point to Lady Misery.”
“But what are we to do? I would not like to end in a similar situation, or an even worse situation.”
The duke tapped his chin. “I know what we’ll do. I ought to get some benefit from putting up with a son-in-law. We’ll have Stratton look at it. He knows everybody and he’s got a reasonable amount of sense.”
“Mr. Stratton!” Grace said. “He will know what ought to be done.”
Really, they should have thought of that in the first place. Grace did not know how she was to explain the evening to her sisters. Valor was already terrified of rogues. Now Grace supposed birds of paradise were to be added to her nightmares.
*
MONTCLAVE SURVEYED THEdrawing room. Some of the guests had gone, most notably Lady Grace and her duke, who had cut out without even taking their leave. Lady Lavender had followed soon after, practically marching her father out when he’d come into the drawing room.
In truth, he was surprised those people had come at all. He had thought it ill-advised to invite them into such company, but Doanellen was determined that Mrs. Featherby would be accepted in the sort of circles he was accustomed to travel in.
Montclave did not think there was the remotest chance of that happening. The matrons of thetonwould not tolerate a mistress at their table or in their ballroom or anywhere else. It was not so much their sensibilities offended, as it was sending the signal that they would not tolerate being themselves left behind in the countryside while their ne’er-do-well husbands squired around a more entertaining and pliable lady.
He’d said as much to his friend, but Doanellen was bull-headed on the subject and Montclave was a guest in the house, so he could not press too far.
It was convenient to have quarters to lay one’s head down at night that did not cost him any money, though the convenience did come with its own sort of price. Mrs. Featherby had moved herself into the house too and she was a chattering windbag. She had no taste, her clothes were gaudy, and her manners a touch rough. She had defeated Doanellen though, so Montclave suspected she must make up for her more obvious deficiencies in private and between the bedsheets.
The earl’s delusions regarding his mistress were the least of the problems on Montclave’s mind, though. While he could not yet gauge what interest, if any at all, Dashlend had in Lady Grace, he was in no doubt as to her own interest. She’d been rather dogged about bringing him up. She’d come upon Dashlend just as he was dragging himself out of the sea, which must have seemed very exciting to a young lady.
They’d dined together, and breakfast too. Dashlend had been charmed by some cur they’d picked up. Dashlend was to return the clothes he’d borrowed. Dashlend was to attend them at a dinner.
Montclave had gamely suggested he might come to the dinner too, but had been rebuffed by the excuse that only the duke could invite anybody. He’d planned to get the duke well-oiled with port after the ladies retired and then opportune him on the subject, but he never got the chance.
At one point, searching for any sort of good news, Montclave had inquired of Lady Grace if it had seemed as if Dashlend might have swallowed seawater during his adventure. He’d heard that a person who’d nearly drowned could later die unexpectedly. When he’d been in the habit of haunting some rough taverns nearby the docks, a sailor had told him the story of three men who’d been plucked from the sea after their boat sank. All three were gleeful to be alive and then two of them were dead by morning.
