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“Hello, Violet.” Gabrielle curtsied, even though her presence hadn’t been acknowledged.
Diana gave a slight curtsy and didn’t bother to smile. As the daughter of a duke, she didn’t have to subscribe to social niceties.
There was another girl, who Violet introduced as Miss March, beside Violet and Mrs. Cheever on the couch, so Gabrielle sat in the chair opposite while Diana stood.
“Oh, Lady Diana,” Violet said. “Let me have a footman fetch a more comfortable chair for you.”
There were chairs aplenty, but Gabrielle knew Diana wanted to be done with this quickly.
“I prefer to stand,” Diana said, her tone icy.
“Rubbish. I’ll have a chair fetched. I cannot possibly allow you to stand.” Violet flapped her hands, obviously beside herself that the daughter of the Duke of Exeter should stand in her drawing room.
“I won’t sit in it.”
There passed a long moment where Diana and Violet eyed each other, and Gabrielle was certain Diana would say something awful and they would be forced to leave before she learned anything useful about Sedgwick. Finally Violet giggled, breaking the tension. “Very well. You already surpass us in rank. It seems fitting you should stand above us. It shall be like you are residing in the clouds.”
Diana glanced at Gabrielle, and Gabrielle knew if she didn’t do something soon, Diana would take her clouds and reside elsewhere. “How have you been Violet?” Gabrielle asked.
“Quite well. My friend Miss March is visiting. Do you remember her from school?”
Gabrielle had done everything she could to forget the convent school. But now she studied the young blonde dutifully. “No, I’m sorry.”
“I was a few years behind you,” Miss March explained. “This is actually my first trip to London, and Miss Cheever has been acquainting me with the city.”
“And all the news!” Violet pointed to a stack of scandal sheets on a side table. Gabrielle spottedThe Town and Country MagazineandThe Rambler’s Magazine,among others. She had obviously come to the right place for news of Sedgwick.
“Welcome to town,” Gabrielle said. “I do hope you enjoy your visit.”
An uncomfortable silence descended for a moment as Gabrielle struggled to think of how to introduce the topic of Sedgwick, Diana fumed impatiently, and Violet and Miss March obviously knew not what to say.
“I didn’t see you at the Beaumonts’ ball last night,” Gabrielle finally said.
“Oh.” Violet waved a hand, the white sleeve of her morning dress fluttering. “We had another engagement.”
Gabrielle doubted it. Very few invited to the Duke of Beaumont’s ball would have missed it, but Violet did not have the social connections that Gabrielle, a viscountess, did.
“Do you know who was there?” Gabrielle said, biting her cheek in anticipation of mentioning Sedgwick’s name. But she had to bring him into the conversation somehow. “The Earl—“
“I heard the Scarlet Pimpernel was there,” Violet interrupted.
Gabrielle frowned. Not only was the interruption rude, she was tired of all the talk of the Scarlet Pimpernel. He was all anyone spoke of anymore.
Conjecture about the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel seemed the ton’s favorite topic of late. Was he George III? The Prince of Wales? Lord Cholmondeley? The Duke d’Orléans? No, all of London was convinced the man must be an Englishman, and thebon tonwas certain he was from the nobility. Why, who else would risk his life to save the condemned of France?
Rumors as to the Pimpernel’s identity, the identity of the members of his League, and his amazing feats abounded. Some claimed he had rescued a thousand or more French nobles, but no man could have done so much. Still, if he’d even rescued a tenth of that, it was an amazing accomplishment.
If the man was even real. She’d read about and heard firsthand accounts of the situation in France and Paris. The political leaders seemed to change daily and new leaders meant new atrocities. Paris had gone mad with bloodlust, disguising murder as liberty. The British nobility, a little afraid the lower classes of England might take a cue from the French, needed a mythical figure like the Pimpernel to calm their fears.
But myth or not, Gabrielle was not at leisure to entertain yet another discussion of the man.
“Oh yes!” Miss March exclaimed, and her eyes lit up as all the young ladies’ did when they spoke of the Scarlet Pimpernel. “Was the Scarlet Pimpernel at the ball last night, Lady McCullough?”
Gabrielle shook her head at the pretty Miss March with her golden curls and large blue eyes. “I don’t think he was. But the Earl—“
“But how would you know?” Miss March asked. “You don’t know his identity.”
“No one knows his identity,” Diana said. “So no one could say if he’d been at the ball or not. But I did see Lord Sedgwick at the ball.”
