And what was this visiting the museum business? How had that happened? Why did the duke allow it?
“Now my boy,” Lord Ledderbey said, “you know I am always eager to support you in everything. However, I might have to cast you adrift regarding tomorrow afternoon’s jaunt to the park. Lady Letitia gives me a headache.”
“Lady Letitiaisa headache.”
“You do not mind that I bow out of that particular experience?”
“No, I’d bow out too if I could figure out how to do it.”
“Very pleasant of the duke to invite you to the park, though. A shame Lady Valor was already engaged. And then Lady Letitia made clear she was not.”
Itwasa shame Lady Valor was engaged. Especially consideringwho she was engaged to see.
“I find myself surprised that duke somehow grows on me,” Lord Ledderbey said. “Mind, I see what your father complained of. Lord Robert was a serious and thoughtful man and the duke is…well, he is not that. Nevertheless, he somehow grows on me. Or perhaps wears me down.”
Weston thought back over the evening. The duke grew on him a little too. Weston could not entirely make him out. He supposed the duke was a bit of a deep character.
*
Valor was ofcourse eager to see the museum. It was perhaps a lack in their family that they never got around to visiting such places. On the other hand, she could not ignore a lingering disappointment that she would not visit the park with Lord Tramondeley, and even an irritation that Lady Letitia would.
She had peered out her bedchamber window across the square to Lord Tramondeley’s house, which she very well knew she ought not be doing. But then, there was that very convenient break in the trees that made it almost impossible not to look. A footman just now came out of Lord Tramondeley’s doors. He held a paper in his hands and walked very determinedly through the square. Was he coming here? Was he bringing a letter?
Valor hurried downstairs to be on hand if a letter was coming to her. She heard the knock on the door and peeked round the doors to the drawing room. Charlie answered and took the folded paper.
After the door closed, Valor walked out and said, “Who is it addressed to? Me or the duke?”
“Both, Lady Valor,” Charlie said, handing it to her.
Indeed it was. It was addressed to Lady Valor Nicolet and the Duke of Pelham. “My father will not mind if I open it without him,”she said, hurrying into the drawing room with it.
She unfolded it.
Lady Valor and Your Grace—
Lord Ledderbey and I would like to invite you to a traditional Cornwall gathering. It will be small in size and have various entertainments, such as a sketch artist to make portraits. We will hold it on Tuesday next at seven o’clock and pray we will see your attendance.
Tramondeley
The invitation gave her a thrill. It was to be a small party and she must feel the compliment of being included. A sketch artist—that was so clever. She’d not expected Lord Tramondeley to host a party. She wondered if it were being done for her benefit? Ought she be so bold as to wonder that? What would she wear?
Then she brought herself down from the clouds and counseled herself very sternly on the matter. It was perfectly fine to find Lord Tramondeley handsome, and he really was. It was perfectly fine to consider him very genial, and he really was. It was even perfectly fine to feel drawn to him, which she must admit that she was.
However, from a practical standpoint it could go no further. She simply did not have the temperament to be able to sleep while keeping one ear out for French soldiers storming the house. Even when she was not asleep she would be jumping out of her shoes at every sound. She must remember that she was far more suited to a quiet life with a staid gentleman who collected something. It would not do to pretend she was other than she was. She was not some brave heroine who would risk every danger. She was a lady far more prone to hide under her blankets.
That brought to mind the count, as he was exceedingly handsome too, in a different sort of way. He seemed interested in her, he wished for a calm and quiet life, and he collected art. His estate was inHertfordshire, with not a coastline or French ship in sight. She had never conceived that she might find herself consorting with a Sardinian gentleman, but he really did have everything to recommend him. He had only the slightest accent, which lent a certain charm to his perfect English. His clothes had small differences, but they were so elegant they could be thought to be improvements.
He was considerate too. That clever idea of his that a groom should gallop Tulip before she mounted showed he understood her. He’d not counseled that she get used to trotting and cantering or made fun over her only walking Tulip. If she wished to walk her horse, that was perfectly fine. There was something comforting about being accepted as she was and not expected to be anything different.
If she could only stop thinking of Lord Tramondeley. Or, if a miracle would occur, if Lord Tramondeley would stop thinking about chasing French boats in the dark. She felt that hope was probably futile but somehow she could not entirely give it up.
As she had expected, her father would never have allowed her into the count’s carriage, even if Mrs. Right was with her and the count was on horseback. She and Mrs. Right would take one of the duke’s carriages driven by the duke’s most trusted coachman. Winkman had been in the duke’s service long and could be trusted that nothing went amiss. If the count or any other gentleman thought he might hand over a guinea and get inside the coach himself, that gentleman would find himself on the ground, looking up and wondering what had happened.
Felicity often said that while their father seemed so devil-may-care, he put careful fences round his daughters.
The count had arrived to the house on a very fine black stallion. He sat a horse very well, and Valor could only admire it. Though, as soon as she got in the carriage, she slid over to the opposite side and peered out the window toward Lord Tramondeley’s house. Lady Letitia’s carriage was already there. Lord Ledderbey led the two ladiesout of the house. She could not hear what was said, but Lady Letitia threw her head back and laughed and seemed very jolly. The ladies got in the carriage but Lord Ledderbey did not. He waved them off. Then there was Lord Tramondeley seated on a fine chestnut.
Valor’s own carriage jerked forward and they set off, leaving the view behind. She was determined to put away what she’d just viewed and enjoy the day. The count led the way through the London streets to Montagu House on Great Russell Street. He helped Valor and Mrs. Right down from the carriage and led them to the entrance. They showed their tickets and were met by Mr. Reed, a curator of the museum.
