Lord Tramondeley returned to her and said, “Might I take advantage of our remaining minutes alone?”
Valor nodded and he kissed her again, mussing her hair with his hands even more than he had done.
“I should go no further,” he said, pulling away.
“Just a little bit,” she said, pulling him close.
Valor was not entirely certain how much time they’d had alone. It was not forever though, no matter how much she might have wished it.
The duke appeared at the door. He took one look at the couple and said, “My daughter is ill, I believe I was told?”
“Not exactly,” Lord Tramondeley said. “You did hint an engagement would be approved.”
“I did,” the duke said, “though I do not recall any mention of approving a mauling of my daughter.”
“Oh, that was not him, Papa. I had to hit the count over the head and well, I got a bit mussed from the exertion.”
“Did the count offend you?” the duke asked.
“Not in the way you might think,” Valor said.
“Well, I never liked that fellow. Smarmy is what I thought.”
Valor did not explain just then that smarmy would be the least of it. She did not know why the count had wished to kill Lord Tramondeley, but she knew that he did.
Lord Ledderbey appeared at the door. “Gracious, what has happened in here?”
Valor glanced around and indeed it did look very alarming. There was blood on the floor and a candelabra laying nearby it. She did nothave to look in a glass to know she looked a fright.
“Let us make our way out of the house,” Lord Tramondeley said. “Everyone is busy at their respective dining tables and we should have no trouble locating our grooms and sedan chairs.”
“Very well,” the duke said. “My daughter is in no condition to enter the prince’s presence at this particular moment. But I expect a full accounting of whatever has gone on.”
*
The party hadhurried past the conservatory to avoid notice by the prince. Weston had got Lord Ledderbey into his sedan chair and then helped Lady Valor into her own.
The duke had demanded a full accounting of what had transpired at the fête, and so he got one. Weston had told his part of it, including that he was known as the Mosquito and that he was certain the count had been looking for that individual in Cornwall. That was why he’d hired sketch artists at his Cornwall party. He then admitted that he’d had a copy made of Lady Valor’s sketch and kept it.
She looked pretty pleased about it.
Then he got to a more difficult part of the tale. When he explained Lady Letitia’s quick thinking in saving him from a knife attack, Weston thought everyone felt bad about any condemnations of the lady they’d been guilty of. Whatever she wore, whatever she said, she had saved Lord Tramondeley.
Lady Valor told her part of it. She’d been overwhelmed by the crowd and fought her way into the room to catch her breath. She’d not initially seen the count and when he revealed himself she’d been nowhere near the door.
That villain had tried to pin whathewas guilty of on Weston.
“I did not believe it, though, Papa,” she said. “Then he came very close to me and said none of it need affect us and I really thought hewas going to try to kiss me.”
“The rogue,” Weston muttered.
“So I had to hit him over the head,” Lady Valor said, charmingly swaying in her sedan chair.
“She was very brave,” Weston said.
“Yes, I really was,” Lady Valor said, sounding surprised.
“Who would have guessed?” the duke said. “My one daughter who has nightmares about a fox’s cries knocks out a would-be murderer.”
