“How goes it with the calendar, Stratton?” the duke asked. “Have we committed ourselves to any more shocking evenings?”
“No, there is nothing to worry over. Some I may have passed on, only because they may be dull, but everything is very respectable. I did wonder though, why you sent your regrets to all the evenings that showcase the musical talents of the ladies new to the season?”
The duke looked over Mr. Stratton’s head. The sisters all looked at each other wide-eyed.
Felicity said, “That sort of evening is not really the right showcase for us.”
“Oh I see,” Mr. Stratton said. “We do not have a pianoforte in the cottage, so I hadn’t known.”
“We should never get one,” Felicity said.
Mr. Stratton took in the idea that none of them could play a note, which had heretofore escaped his notice. Mr. Button announced Lord Dashlend and Lady Margaret.
While it might be usual for the duke to step forward in greeting first, Valor pushed past him. “My friend Lady Margaret,” she said, grasping the lady’s hands, “you have done me a real service—all this information about monsters is very good to know.”
“Ah yes, it is always an advantage to know who or what you deal with,” Lady Margaret said.
Grace’s eyes traveled between Lord Dashlend and Lady Margaret. Lord Dashlend was looking very well put together. His coat was well-cut and his neckcloth was neatly done. The lord went in for a clean and unfussy style—he did not pretend at being a dandy, and yet his clothes were impeccable.
Lady Margaret, on the other hand, was looking rather surprising. She wore a purple brocade dress with crinolines underneath, and her hair was piled high atop her head and held in place by a bright green silk turban that sported a heavy diamond broach.
“All right now, Valor,” the duke said jovially, moving his youngest daughter out of the way. He greeted Lord Dashlend with a joke about the shipwreck and bowed to Lady Margaret.
“Ah, Duke,” Lady Margaret said, dispensing with the need to address him as Your Grace, “I’ve been very interested to make your acquaintance.”
“Have you now? I can’t think why.”
“I’ve heard you’re a bit of a corker,” Lady Margaret said.
This set the duke into roars of laughter. “Very good, very good,” he said, catching his breath.
Lord Dashlend and Mr. Stratton greeted one another, as they were previously known to each other. Then Lord Dashlend very kindly mentioned all of her sisters’ names before bowing and saying, “Lady Grace, you are looking very well.”
Grace bobbed a curtsy. She was looking very well, he said.
“Well, Mr. Button,” the duke said to the butler, “are we ready to go through, no sense in dilly-dallying about it.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mr. Button said.
The duke put his arm out for Lady Margaret and led her through. As he did so, he said, “He’s the butler at the moment. No idea how long he’ll be here.”
Mr. Button’s eyes widened. Then they widened a bit more as Lady Margaret said, “At least he’s alive. Mine has been dead for months.”
Chapter Eleven
MILES HAD TOgive the duke credit—while the gentleman held no compunction over joking about Miles shipwrecking his boat, he’d not shown a flicker of surprise over Lady Margaret’s appearance.
He certainly must have been surprised. The turban had been a new and alarming addition to her repertoire. It was not so much the idea that she wore a turban. It was that it was an eye-popping shade of green silk while her dress was bright purple brocade that billowed out in all directions as if her maid had put her into every crinoline in London. When he’d first spotted her coming down the stairs, he had the impression of Lunardi’s hydrogen balloon being filled for its flight.
In the carriage, he’d even floated the idea of hiring a dressmaker, but Lady Margaret said the older styles suited her, as Lord Harraby had rightly pointed out.
Lady Grace, on the other hand, looked perfection. She wore a violet silk dress with a delicate tulle overlay in the same shade, embellished with silver thread using a restrained hand. Her blond curls were wrestled into order, though some of the bolder of their number had escaped their pins. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks bloomed. There could not be a prettier lady in all London.
He was placed on Lady Felicity’s right, as she would hostess for the duke. Lady Grace was on Miles’ other side. Lady Margaret was to the duke’s right, with Lady Valor on her other side.
Miles had not thought the younger sisters would be at table, but then he supposed the duke did not constrain himself to any preconceived notions on how things were done. In any other house, the younger girls who were not out would be taking their dinner above stairs with a governess. Nobody not closely associated with the family would likely be aware of their existence until they were older. As far as he knew, the duke did not even employ a governess. Just a rather frightening housekeeper who had no use for a butler.
“Lord Dashlend,” Lady Grace said, “you mentioned you were to dine with one of your father’s oldest friends last evening. I pray it was enjoyable.”
