In preparation for the ball, Mrs. Right had been very careful with her hair as her sisters had looked on and peppered her with questions. They were, all of them including Grace, disappointed that Lord Dashlend was not to attend.
Their approval of the gentleman had grown since his visit, and even Valor said he must be a fine gentleman to have such a relation as Lady Margaret. Valor had received her first letter from that lady, and it had outlined Lady Margaret’s great and long-lasting friendship with a certain Doodle-do, who had been the stuffed rooster companion of her youth. The lady still had that item in a closet somewhere and it was her hope that Doodle-do and Mrs. Wendover might meet someday.
Valor was to spend the evening composing her response to this news.
Mrs. Right had very astutely chosen a dark blue velvet pelisse to complete Grace’s dress, and she and her father had been waved off by the rest of the family.
“Did you notice?” the duke asked as the carriage rumbled through the dark streets.
“Notice what, Papa?”
“Mr. Button. Where was he?”
“That is true,” Grace said. Mr. Button was so recently arrived that she’d not even noticed he was absent at their departure.
“Perhaps he’s already gone,” the duke said. “Mrs. Right has a certain spring in her step at the moment.”
“I wonder,” Grace said. “She’s given us no direction so far regarding her plans.”
The duke turned to her. “Do you imply that you and your sisters played a part in Mr. Sykes-Wycliff’s exit last year?”
“Only that we told him about the servants’ hunt. You were meant to chase the servants round the moors and shoot at them.”
The duke laughed long and hard. “Nobody has an imagination like Mrs. Right. Servants’ hunt, indeed. Though, it might be amusing with slingshots, eh?”
Grace laughed despite herself. That really might be amusing. She suspected the footmen would be all in on the idea.
“Now Gracie, what’s it to be? I understand Dashlend made a point to return the borrowed clothes himself and brought along some sort of relation too. Are you to settle your eyes on him or are you to meander through the season pretending you haven’t, just as Felicity did?”
“Papa, it is too soon to settle my eyes anywhere. Though, Lord Dashlend certainly has caught my eye.”
The duke chuckled. “I see, you feel you do not know him well enough.”
“Well, I do not,” she said. “But the more pressing thing is… he does not knowmewell enough.”
The duke looked at her quizzically. “You think he might be put off because you are clumsy on occasion?”
“He might be,” Grace said.
“If he is, then he is not the man I think he is. I suppose we just wait and see. What’s say you purposefully fall on the floor when he’s nearby and we’ll see what he says.”
“I will do no such thing and I know you are joking.”
“Maybe,” the duke said enigmatically.
The carriage rolled to a stop. “Here we are,” Grace said. “My first real ball.”
“Chin up, you are a duke’s daughter. You fear nobody and require nobody’s approval.”
Grace smiled. Perhaps she did notrequireanybody’s approval, but she wished for the approval of one gentleman in particular. He would not be there to approve on this particular occasion, but he would be soon enough.
Lady Luthering greeted them at the door. She was exceedingly gracious, even when the duke noted that he’d heard Lord Luthering had kicked off. Grace was certain a lady hosting a ball would not like to be reminded of a dead husband but she was very civil about it, only noting the sad event was “last March.”
They proceeded to the cloak room to deposit their coats and retrieve Grace’s dance card.
A dance card. An empty dance card. Would it be filled? Would she acquit herself creditably on the ballroom floor? She felt she had a very good chance of it. Some days she felt steadier than others and today she was solid on her two feet.
“Lady Grace!”
