As Valor and Lady Margaret chattered on together, Patience said, “Lord Dashlend, we thought you’d come on an earlier day, but now we know you were helping Lady Margaret.”
Serenity brushed away a tear. “It really is very touching.”
“I believe familial loyalty is very usual in cases such as this,” Verity said.
“Maybe not always, though,” Winsome said, challenging the idea.
“I was happy to do it,” Lord Dashlend said, taking his tea.
Grace was enormously pleased that she’d not spilled one drop of it.
“How do you get on in Town so far, Lady Grace?” Lord Dashlend asked. “Have you been to any entertainments yet?”
Grace was not certain whether or not she ought to mention Lord Doanellen’s dinner. Then she recalled that Lord Dashlend’s own cousin had been there, so there was every likelihood that he would hear of it.
“We have attended one dinner, though had I been more experienced at managing invitations, I daresay we would have sent our regrets.”
“Not a well put together table?” Lord Dashlend asked.
“Um, no, it was not exactly that. We attended the Earl of Doanellen’s dinner.”
Lord Dashlend frowned.
“There was a bird of paradise there,” Winsome said. “We’ve been told that’s not at all the thing, though I really do not see what is wrong with it. People keep canaries and parrots all the time.”
“It is my understanding that a bird of paradise is a noxious bird, though,” Verity said.
“The problem was,” Patience said, “the bird was in the dining room. That’s what I can get out of the whole thing.”
Lord Dashlend seemed to perceive that Grace’s younger sisters were rather unclear as to what, or who, a bird of paradise was. He said, “Lady Grace, I notice what I believe is a fine collection of books on that bookshelf on the far side of the room. I wonder if you would escort me there and give me your comments on them.”
“Yes, of course,” Grace said. She was rather nervous, as she expected she would be pressed for further information regarding the bird of paradise.
They strolled to the far end of the drawing room, leaving behind Lady Margaret and Valor having a confidential conversation about stealing biscuits. Serenity, Winsome, and Patience just stared at them as they made their way there.
Lord Dashlend picked a book from the shelf and pretended to examine it. “I presume Mrs. Featherby was the bird in question?”
Grace nodded. “We really did not know what we were walking into. I do not know anybody and my father often forgets who is who. He also is not one for hanging about his club listening to gossip, so he would have missed the lady’s identity. And then, there was nothing said on the invitation that… that… a certain type of lady would be there.”
“No, of course there would not be anything on the invitation. It is my understanding that Doanellen is doing everything in his power to establish Mrs. Featherby in society. He will get nowhere with it, though.”
Grace nodded. “Is it true that he’s left his wife in the countryside? My aunt said so, but then I thought there must be a good reason for it.”
“That is a rather sad case, if what I’ve heard about it is true. Lady Doanellen came with a pile of money and as far as I can tell, he married her for it. He played the devoted husband until he had an heir and now he’s cast her aside.”
“That is wicked.”
“Yes, it is. I do not know what Doanellen is about. He’s enraged every matron in Town and half of his gentlemen friends too. It is one thing to carry on with a mistress and another thing to expect one’s friends to acknowledge the lady.”
“It is a usual thing?” Grace asked. “To carry on with… such ladies?”
The idea was a little shocking. She was not entirely naïve, she had heard of such things, but she’d not thought it a usual thing. Her father had certainly never done anything of the sort.
“No, no, not usual. Not among decent men, at any rate.”
Grace nodded, rather relieved to hear it. “Your cousin was there.”
“Montclave? Yes, I thought that was where he might have gone. He does not keep a house in Town.”
