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The first grand occasion of the Season is ruined. Utterly ruined!
“We must collect the ladies,” she whispered urgently to Aunt Miriam, who still stood with her mouth hanging open.
“Oh yes, of course we must. Oh good gracious. I can’t believe this is happening. What a to-do, what a to-do.”
“Collect yourself, Miss Miriam.” She used her schoolmarm voice; the calm, efficient tones she employed when her father was being difficult. “Follow me.”
She made a beeline for Blanche, looking neither to the right, nor to the left, attempting to ignore the whispers. This could only harm the ladies’ prospects. She gathered the still-stunned Blanche and Belinda, and beckoned to Bernadette, who came running, followed closely by Betsy, who galloped more than ran.
“Nowthatgave them something to gawk at,” Betsy whispered. “Wish I’d hit that Miss Vanessa Chandler with my cricket ball when I had the chance. How dare she jilt our brother?”
“Hush, Betsy. Now’s not the time.” Viola took Blanche’s arm. “Ladies, we leave at once.”
The ladies, to their credit, held their heads high and walked with elegance and grace through the crowd, which parted before them. Well, Betsy wasn’t particularly elegant or graceful, but the tilt of her chin and the dauntless look in her eye said she didn’t give one fig what anyone thought of her, or her brother.
When they were safely out of the house, down the marble stairs, and back to the carriage, Viola breathed a small sigh of relief.
“Oh dear,” Aunt Miriam said, fluttering her hands. “What’s to be done? What can we do? Such a scandal. And at the very first ball of the Season. And your dowries. This is a disaster.”
Viola placed her hands on her shoulders. “Miss Miriam, please escort the young ladies back to the house.”
“Oh yes. That’s what I must do.”
“West’s carriage is still here,” Betsy pointed out. They’d been too large of a party and had split themselves into several conveyances.
“He’ll be off on foot to a tavern, or gaming hell, by now,” said Bernadette glumly. “Sometimes I do believe I might take up strong drink myself.”
“I don’t think so,” Belinda said. “I watched him through the windows as he left and I think he turned down the garden path. Shouldn’t wonder if he’s out there having a good cry. I certainly would be weeping if I’d been jilted in such a public manner by anAmerican. She may have exquisite taste in clothing, but her judgment in men is deplorable.”
Blanche was silent, which worried Viola more than if she’d been wailing. “Are you all right, Lady Blanche?”
“Nothing will ever be right again.” Her face was pale and anguished in the moonlight. “We’ve been publicly humiliated. Lord Laxton will surely have nothing to do with me when he hears the story.”
Viola had tried to reason with her earlier, telling her as much as she could about Laxton’sslanderous comments but apparently Blanche hadn’t been dissuaded.
“Are we going to be ostracized?” Belinda asked. “Is our Season over before it even began?” Tears gathered in her eyes.
A large man rushed down the steps and approached them. Viola immediately recognized the ungainly Lord Flanders.
“Lady Blanche, might I be of assistance in any way?” he asked, twisting his large hands together.
Blanche stared at a point to the left of his face. “It’s good of you, Lord Flanders, but we’re just leaving.”
“Mightn’t I see you safely home now that the duke has... left precipitously?”
Viola gave him a warm smile. “We’re not certain where His Grace has gone. Perhaps you might search for him and see that he arrives safely home this evening?”
Lord Flanders made a bow. “It would be my great honor to be of any assistance. Do you have a suggestion for where I might begin my search?”
“He may be in Lady Pickering’s garden,” said Bernadette. “But if you don’t find him there he’s likely gone to number 20 Ryder Street, colloquially known as The Devil’s Staircase, and if he’s there, I’m afraid you won’t have an easy time extracting him.”
“You’d better hope he hasn’t been into the gin,” said Betsy. “He might pick a fight with you then.”
“Heavens,” said Lord Flanders, his eyes widening. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a fighter.”
“Oh, this is pointless,” said Blanche impatiently. “Miss Beaton, you must go and fetch our brother. You’re the only one he listens to these days. You have a great deal of influence over him. Take West’s carriage and his footmen if he’s not in the gardens. Lord Flanders, Bernadette and I will travel home in your equipage while the twins return with Aunt Miriam.”
Lord Flanders beamed. “It would be my great honor and pleasure.”
