Page 20 of Miss Delancey’s Tragicomedy

That made Ophelia laugh.

“I’m surprised,” Dessie went on, “that Robin didn’t boot him out a week ago. I swear he was ready to clock the ever-so-talented Mr. Cameron during that entertaining piano lesson. If you had not cleverly thrown yourself out the window when you did—”

“Dessie, dear, you really have to stop concocting these little tableaus in your head.”

Her sister returned to her calling cards and invitations, smiling now.

“Oh.” Her smile faded. She stared at the cream-colored card in her hand. “Here is one.” She took a deep breath.

“One?”

“It’s an invitation to Lord Barrington’s ball.” She sounded awed. “They are bringing their daughter out. Lady Elizabeth.”

“Barrington?”

“The marquess. Honestly, Ophelia, don’t you know anything?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t memorized Debrett’s the way you have. Who are the Barringtons?”

“Important people. They go back to William the Conqueror. This is…startling. They even included you.”

“That is startling.”

“Be serious. Just for one minute. Barrington is a stodgy, fusty man. And his wife is worse. Lynch had despaired of getting his vote, but maybe…I know a debutante’s ball is not the same thing as political capitulation—”

“What are those words coming out of your mouth?”

“But it’s a foot in the door, don’t you see?” She looked at the card again, then waved it. “The ball is two weeks from now. We have to go. And you’ll be recovered by then.”

Ophelia swallowed hard. “Should I be? Recovered, I mean?” Now she was serious. She knew she was a walking disaster. “Dessie, I wouldn’t want to ruin anything. If this is so important to Lynch…”

“Just stay away from the windows. And stairs. And servants carrying trays.” She looked Ophelia up and down. “And maybe don’t sparkle quite as much as you do.”

“I don’t sparkle.”

“Mr. Cameron might not agree.” Dessie sighed heavily. “The Barringtons are a very, very old family. Weighty. But they are poor as church mice. I can’t imagine how they can afford to host a ball. And, unfortunately, Lady Elizabeth Barrington hasn’t much to recommend her, other than her name.”

So, the family needed money. “She should find a rich American who wants to be a lord.”

“It isn’t funny. Don’t be insensitive.”

“I don’t mean to be!” She wasn’t mocking Lynch. Or Dessie. “But, well, why not?”

“You know why not. Think! Her husband won’t be the marquess. Men have to be born to the title.”

“Oh, right. Titles don’t pass through females.” Which made no sense, when the country was ruled by a queen.

“The Barringtons are down to entailed estates, from what I understand. They’ve nothing left to sell but baubles. There is no son. No male heir that anyone knows of. With the marquess’ death, the title will be extinct. The estates will revert to the Crown.”

“So, what happens to Lady Elizabeth?” Whose family went back to the Conqueror? Did that legacy mean something or not?

“She will have nothing. It’s horrifying. Someone will take her in, I suppose, if…when she outlives her parents. But what she needs is a husband. Everyone knows it. Everyone wishes someone would marry her. But no one is willing to be the sacrificial ram.”

“Sacrificial ram? That is horrifying. The girl is a person.”

“And very sweet, from what I’ve heard. Young. Not quite eighteen. With a touch of the bluestocking about her.”

“Which recommends her in my book.”