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“My brother Cecil is full of admiration for your waistcoat,” said Miss Deeping to the earl.
“You do understand that this is ominous?” asked Miss Finch. “To be admired by Cecil Deeping is to destroy any aspirations you might have to good taste.”
“Oh, Harriet, he’s not so bad,” said Miss Moran.
“Have you seenhiswaistcoat?”
“I was too dazzled by the coach-wheel buttons and the many fobs,” said Miss Deeping. “Henry said he looks like a mountebank.”
“I have never regretted having no brothers,” said Miss Finch.
“Yes, you have,” replied Miss Moran. “When you were wishing you could learn swordplay back at school.”
“Ha! I’d forgotten.” Miss Finch laughed. “A brother like Cecil would be no use forthat. And one doesn’t get to choose.”
“I’ll bring Cecil to compliment youlater,” said Miss Deeping to the earl, giving the final words an odd emphasis.
Before Teresa could do more than wonder about undercurrents, Miss Moran burst out with “Your earrings are lovely. Did you design them?”
Teresa nodded. Tom joined them. There was a general milling about. Couples moved in for the next set. And somehow Lord Macklin was gone. Teresa looked for him, but he seemed to have disappeared.
He wished he could dance every dance with Teresa, Arthur thought as he edged his way into the card room. But he couldn’t. He wanted to attract attention to himself, not to her. And if he talked to her anymore, he might give things away. His…cast clearly couldn’t resist dropping hints. So that great pleasure was denied to him. He had to stay away from her. He would lurk here until nearer the time. He found a place at one of the card tables and joined the hand, receiving gibes about his waistcoat with a witless smile.
Arthur emerged as the set before supper was forming. He didn’t seek a partner. Rather, he located Miss Grandison’s brother, who also was not dancing, and went to stand near him. Just as the music ended, Arthur stepped forward and said, “Good evening, Grandison, how are you?”
The man looked surprised to be addressed. They were not well acquainted. But he responded civilly.
“I’ve heard there is to be rack punch with supper,” Arthur added. “Shall we go and see?”
“At a ball? That is most unusual.”
“Mrs. Overton assured me.” He edged the other man toward the doorway to the refreshment room. Grandison let himself be herded. Arthur saw the three young ladies leading groups of their friends in the same direction. Miss Julia Grandison was approaching as well. She grimaced at him. He ignored her.
The young actresses had been put in charge of Quigley and Trask, to maneuver them into position at the proper moment. They’d been given free rein as to how this was to be accomplished. When Arthur brought his charge into the room he saw the two gentlemen who had tipped a punch bowl over Miss Julia Grandison many years ago looking a bit dazed by the unexpected female attention. They were also precisely in place near the rack punch. Arthur brought John Grandison to join them, nodded a dismissal to the actresses, and then moved behind the refreshment table. “Look, it is rack punch,” he said.
When they turned, Arthur picked up the large bowl—heavy, but he’d been braced for that. He raised it high and, with a great heave, tossed the warm liquid over the unsuspecting trio.
A gasp swept through the room.
Arthur experienced a barrage of appalled stares from the cream of society. Mouths hung open; some pointed at him. He spotted Tom, looking poleaxed. He noticed Miss Finch, her brows raised in startled surmise.
Trask, Grandison, and Quigley wiped sticky punch from their faces. It dripped from the tails of their coats. They gazed at Arthur, stunned.
“How very clumsy of you, John,” someone declared. It was Julia Grandison, in her best public voice. It was indeed marvelously penetrating.
The room erupted in a storm of talk. Arthur felt a tremor of anxious gratification as he continued to search for the one person he most wanted to find. And then he saw her. Teresa stood near Tom. She’d been hidden by another lady’s headdress, but she’d obviously seen the whole. Her amazed expression said so.
Arthur stared at her with his heart in his eyes. He couldn’t speak to her now. He mustn’t involve her in his notoriety. But he hoped for some sign that she’d understood his message. He didn’t care one snap of his fingers for social ruin. Let them bring it on! After an endless moment, she started to smile. He held her gaze until the smile seemed likely to turn to a laugh, then turned on his heel. His work here was done. He walked out of the room and the house.
* * *
“He threw it right over them,” Tom told an awed audience at the theater workshop the next day. He shook his head. “The look on his lordship’s face when he heaved that punch bowl. I’ll never forget it.”
“Butwhydid he do it?” asked Miss Moran.
The three young ladies had shown up first thing, and Teresa’s suspicions that they had been in on the prank had been partly confirmed. They’d settled with a group of artisans in the courtyard to hear and rehash the tale.
“It was so unlike him,” declared Miss Deeping. “I’ve always found Lord Macklin stuffy.”
