In any case, her father speculated that the count might not come tonight. He would likely be holed up in Lady Tallifer’s house, waiting for the talk to die down. Valor hoped that was right. She really did not have any interest at all in seeing him.
Just as they set off across the park, Serenity and Lord Thorpe caught up to them. They were quite the party walking through the lighted paths and Valor was so gratified that Mrs. Right had been invited. Her father approved of it too, and Mrs. Right was looking very smart in her best dress. Really, if one did not know her and just saw her out and about somewhere, one would never guess she was the duke’s housekeeper. She was a lady like any other.
As those thoughts crossed her mind, the old idea she’d held very secret in her heart when she was younger resurfaced. Long before she’d understood society, she’d harbored a hope that Mrs. Right would become her mother in name. Why did not Papa marry her when they seemed so fond of one another? She’d given it up when she got olderand realized the difficulties, but looking at them walking side by side now…well they looked very natural together.
She had thought it as soon as she’d seen Mrs. Right dressed in her rather sophisticated blue silk dress and her hair done up more formally than it usually was. She was not alone in noticing the difference, Mr. Huberville had been bowled over by it.
Valor would give Mr. Huberville credit for one thing at least. When he’d become apprised that Mrs. Right was to go to the party with the duke and his daughter he’d cried, “Very well deserved, Mrs. Right, very well deserved indeed.” Then when he’d seen her in her best dress, he’d cried, “A proper lady!”
He was entirely useless as a butler, but everyone agreed he would not harm a fly. He harmed his fair share of crockery and crystal, but other than that he was a very kind sort of person.
They reached Lord Tramondeley’s house and she skipped up the steps. Lord Ledderbey’s grave butler led them in.
Lord Tramondeley was looking very well. He smiled at her. Yes, he was looking directly at her and nobody else. It was as if he did not even notice that anybody else had come in.
Lord Ledderbey had of course noticed everybody else and welcomed their guests.
“Lady Valor,” Lord Tramondeley said, “you look very well. The sketch artists will be delighted.”
Valor was certain she blushed up to the roots of her hair, but who cared really?
He fetched her a glass of hock. “You prefer it, I think?” he said.
She did prefer it. He was paying close attention to her preferences.
“Tramondeley!” a shrill voice shouted.
Valor sipped her wine to cover the frown coming over her on account of hearing Lady Letitia had arrived. Lord Tramondeley was not as successful at covering his less than enthusiastic expression.
“This evening could not arrive soon enough,” Lady Letitia said, “we have simply longed to be here.”
Why did Lady Letitialongfor everything? It must be uncomfortable to be always longing about this thing or that thing.
“Where are the artists?” Lady Letitia asked. “We do not want to miss our opportunity!”
“They are in the ballroom, Lady Letitia,” Lord Tramondeley said.
Lady Letitia cried, “Do you hear that, Lady Monroe! I have longed to be sketched.” The lady hurried out of the room and Valor presumed she would throw somebody out of a chair if there were not one free.
Lady Monroe was led to a chair across the room by Lord Ledderbey.
“If she tries to press her portrait on me I’m going to burn it,” Lord Tramondeley said matter-of-factly. “I won’t tell her, though. That would be rude.”
“It certainly would be,” Valor said, laughing.
Behind her, she heard a voice she knew all too well. Her papa had been mistaken, the count had come after all. She turned and noticed Mrs. Right staring at the count intently.
“Lord Tramondeley, Lady Valor,” he said. “Lady Tallifer sends her regrets, she was struck down with a violent headache this afternoon.”
“Oh dear,” Valor said, “I hope she does not suffer from it long.” It was the right thing to say, but her feelings were such that she would have been more satisfied if it had been the count struck down with a headache. Why had he come?
“It is a distress of feelings that has brought it on,” the count said. “She is a cousin and has known my marquis long. Naturally she is devastated over this scurrilous report in the newspapers.”
Goodness, Valor had not expected the count to mention it. Or if he would mention it, not so soon and directly.
“I presume you deny all knowledge of the French installing themselves in your father’s villa, then?” Lord Tramondeley said.
“I hardly need to deny any knowledge as if they are there and I didnot know it. They are not there. My father is powerful, as those French devils well know. They would not dare to approach his gates. Napoleon is already under immense pressure on account of imprisoning the pope, he will not complicate matters further by trying it with an influential marquis.”
