“You’re just a baron, though?” Patience asked. “Do you have any higher prospects?”
The duke roared with laughter. “You see what I put up with, Montclave. That’s our Patience, saying what everybody was thinking. Don’t ask Verity anything, you’ll never get at the truth.”
“Papa!” Verity said, as if somehow surprised by this assessment.
“Ah, oh, I see,” Lord Montclave said, sounding nonplussed by the duke’s comments about his daughters.
Just then, Grace heard the voice she’d been waiting for on her other side. She whipped round and found Lord Dashlend at her window.
“Lady Grace,” he said.
He was looking very fine on his large stallion, his bottle green riding coat with polished silver buttons fitting to perfection.
“Lord Dashlend,” she said.
The lord then seemed to notice his cousin on the other side of the carriage. “Montclave,” he said through the window, “what do you do here?”
“Exercising my horse,” Lord Montclave said with a note of irritation. “What doyoudo here?”
“Lady Grace informed me she would be in the park at this hour,” Lord Dashlend said, “so I made my way here forthwith.”
“He’s got you there, eh, Montclave?” the duke said, laughing. “You claim a happenstance and he says there was no luck or coincidence involved for himself!”
“I believe encountering another person in the park is a very common thing,” Verity said.
Lord Montclave looked about him at the endless array of carriages and people on horseback. Grace was certain he was thinking that it would indeed be a very common thing, as half of London was there.
“Lord Dashlend,” Grace said, “How does Lady Margaret do after her exertions of last evening?”
“Uh, she does very well. Surprisingly.”
“Exertions?” the duke said, laughing. “Is that what we’re calling that ludicrous display? Well, Montclave, you would have missed it—patronesses are a persnickety bunch. Very careful of who they let in.”
Grace could see Lord Montclave redden to have it pointed to that he would not be in receipt of a voucher.
“In fact, Lady Grace,” Lord Dashlend said, “Lady Margaret was just asking about you this morning.”
Grace could see very well that Lord Dashlend was somehow embarrassed that Lady Margaret was mentioned. She wondered if the lady had communicated anything that Valor had written in her letter. Grace certainly hoped not, as she would be entirely embarrassed herself.
“I wonder, Lady Grace, if you plan on attending Lady Montague’s ball on the morrow?”
“Indeed, we have engaged ourselves,” Grace said.
“Perhaps I might linger in the foyer,” Lord Dashlend said. “When you arrive, I could escort you to get your dance card.”
“That would be very acceptable, Lord Dashlend,” Grace said, feeling a little bit idiotic in her answer. Nevertheless, perhaps there was something non-committal and sophisticated about it? Probably not though. She probably just sounded like an idiot.
On the other hand, she could not very well say what she really thought. It would be even more idiotic if she claimed she was wildly approving of the idea, which she was.
From across the carriage, Lord Montclave called. “I will linger in the foyer as well.”
The duke roared with laughter. “Well, Gracie, Lady Montague’s foyer will be like shark infested waters. How many gentlemen will be circling, waiting for your arrival?”
Grace was pleased to see that Lord Dashlend did not look very approving of the idea of Lord Montclave haunting the foyer too. If she were to be honest, she did not have strong feelings one way or the other. She did not like Lord Montclave, but she did not hold anything positively against him either. In any case, she would dance with more gentlemen than only Lord Dashlend, and so she supposed that Lord Montclave on her card was of no significance either way.
“Wonderful,” Patience said. “Everyone will be wandering around the foyer. When does anything actually happen though?”
“We will proceed to the ballroom,” Lord Montclave said. “And then in not too long a time the dancing will begin.”
