Page 2 of The Undaunted
Sad headshaking from Lady Heathway, wide eyes from Lady Redfield, knit brows from Lady Featherstone, and a slow tapping of an index finger on a teacup from the duchess. Only Lady Mendleton seemed unconcerned, as that lady was far too taken up with her own affairs to care if anybody’s hair had just burst into flames.
“Clara,” the duchess said gravely, “this is most irregular. How does one launch a girl at Brighton? A girl may beoutin any neighborhood, but one can hardly call it a launch. When it is locally done it is usually because the girl will inevitably marry a neighbor or the parents don’t have the funds. How does Brighton fit into either of those ideas?”
Lady Easton did not yet have an answer for that. She doubted she ever would.
“Bath might be suitable. Though I think it a poor substitute, especially these days,” Lady Heathway said. “But Brighton…well with the Regent and his friends carousing it is all rather…”
“But you might be quite the innovator, Clara,” Lady Redfield said helpfully. “I do believe you might be the first to have done it.”
“Can you not simply keep her under wraps there and then bring her to London once the season begins?” Lady Featherstone asked.
“That is precisely what I suggested to my lord,” Clara said. “But he says it would be nigh impossible to keep her under wraps as she’s not the sort who would stay under wraps. What can that mean?”
Nobody answered that query.
Lady Easton lapsed into handwringing, a habit that only surfaced when she was entirely beside herself.
“Now Clara,” the duchess said, “I cannot envision precisely what you will face under these extraordinary circumstances. However, we must all pull together! Mrs. Belle must be contracted at once! She is the only one who will do for seaside attire. Turn it all over to her, you will have no time to mull over fabrics or design—send the measurements and think no more about it. Now, I will be in Brighton in August. Just like every other year, the Regent will send for my duke. Cecilia? What do you do?”
Lady Redfield said, “Oh, I will take the boys there to our cottage. They do so enjoy it and there are five of them and it can be so difficult for them to all agree on something that when they do agree, I cannot see how to get round it. I really do wish I could sell the house and get something in Ramsgate, or perhaps Eastbourne, but my dear baron did love his summers in Brighton.”
“He is dead, though, Cecilia,” Lady Heathway pointed out and not for the first time.
“Yes, but he did love it when he lived,” Lady Redfield murmured.
“And you, Anne? What are your plans?” the duchess said imperiously.
“Oh yes, we will be there until the shooting,” Lady Featherstone said. “You know how Lord Featherstone likes the bathing for his health, even if it grows rather cold. He finds it bracing. But I really do not see—”
“Penelope?” the duchess went on with her interrogation, not seeming to care what Lady Featherstone could not see. “Penelope, you must find a way to drag yourself away from Barlow Hall.”
“Well—”
Lady Heathway had attempted to use awellas abut. Fortunately, the duchess was prepared to run over any buts, wells, howevers, or maybes. “You must do it, Penelope. Just as we pulled together for Miss Yardley, we will pull together for Miss Upton. My house is at your disposal.”
“My dear duchess,” Lady Mendleton said. “I believe you are not fully comprehending our new situations in life. Penelope and I have daughters-in-law now and that, of course, must take most of our attention.”
The duchess stared at Lady Mendleton. “Louisa, have you entirely lost your wits? What you two ladies have on your hands are newly-wedded couples. They have no more use for you than if you handed a bald man a comb. Furthermore, our society of sponsoring ladies is faced with an unexpected challenge. We must meet it head-on!”
Lady Easton nodded encouragingly. She did not know what the ladies could do for her in particular, but she had a vague sense that she would require reinforcements in regard to Miss Upton.
Chapter One
Caroline Upton, eldestdaughter of Baron Dunn, had been called to her father’s study. While she did not know the precise reason for it, she could make an educated guess. He wished to relive the glorious races that had recently concluded. She had been there with him, and ithadbeen glorious.
They had just returned from Doncaster last evening and there had been a wild celebration in the stables over their victories. Even the hands who had not gone on the trip had been mad with glee. The estate ran on horses—her father bred and sold horses, advised on horses, and raced horses. There was a little farming done, mostly just to keep them in vegetables for the table. There were of course cows to produce an endless supply of milk for the seemingly endless supply of children in the house, but horses were Dunn Hall’s lifeblood.
Over the past week, the baron had won very big indeed. Likely enough to keep them going for a year.
Caroline made her way through the front hall, stepping over wooden soldiers, stuffed rabbits, hoops, and skipping ropes, all left behind by children who’d gone on to the next thing. She swerved around a carriage with the most recent arrival gurgling in it, and she presumed somebody was planning to wheel him out into the sunshine. At least, she hoped so, as she could not imagine why else he’d been left there. The constant detritus of nine children, and the children themselves, overflowed the house and was always a reminder of how necessary her father’s wins were.
Nine souls were in existence already and nobody was certain there might not be a tenth coming along. Lady Dunn was always blooming, and what she was blooming with were babies.
Caroline slipped into her father’s study, the only room in the house that did not contain mountains of evidence of children and their necessities.
Baron Dunn was a tall and good-looking man, fit as those who are physical in their work tended to be. He had a manly energy about him that made him popular with all sorts—he could just as easily talk to a hand in the stable or a butcher in the village as he could the Prince Regent and his friends.
“You must be in fine spirits today, Papa,” Caroline said, throwing herself onto the leather sofa that sat underneath the windows that lined the study.
