Page 60 of Lady Dramatic
“Lady Marchfield, Lady Serenity,” Lord Thorpe said. “Lady Marchfield, might I escort Lady Serenity for a turn around the room?” He addressed her aunt to request her permission, which her aunt was clearly flattered by.
“By all means, Lord Thorpe,” she said, giving her permission with an air of gracious condescension.
He held out his arm and they strolled off. “I hope you are not offended that I asked your aunt for the honor of escorting you, as if you could not decide things for yourself,” Lord Thorpe said. “I was certain if you did not wish it, you would say so. It was just that Lady Marchfield looked as if she might need some propping up just now and nothing soothes a matron more than deference.”
Serenity smiled. “You seem to understand my aunt very well. She was all turned round because Lord Charles…”
“I noticed he pushed into the conversation with Lady Pembroke. It did not seem as if it went well.”
“He asked me to take a turn round the room, and then when I declined he asked if he could request a dance at the next ball. I was forced to tell him I had been directed to say no. It was very uncomfortable.”
Lord Thorpe nodded thoughtfully.
“I imagine you know the reason, though I do not,” Serenity said. “I will not inquire into it, as my father did not like to say.”
“I suspect he is right to leave you out of it. Not because you are his daughter or could not weigh the matter yourself, but because it is unsavory and the less said about it to anybody the better. However, it is nothing to fret over. My brother likes to attempt to stir trouble, he is forever unhappy and cannot seem to help himself. Your father, however, is a shark to my brother’s goldfish and he was soundly routed.”
Serenity could not imagine what Lord Charles had done. “I wonder, if Lord Charles has done something untoward and is not to be chastened over it, will he not attempt something else?”
“No,” Lord Thorpe said, stopping a footman and offering Serenity a glass of champagne. “Charles always operates the same—he goes too far and then he lays low for a period of time. I expect we will not see him for the rest of the season.”
Serenity gratefully took the glass. She was cheered to hear that whatever lord Charles had been up to, it was at an end. She was even more cheered to be strolling round the ballroom with Lord Thorpe.
“We must not forget to vote over the costumes or Lady Darlington will be put out,” Lord Thorpe said. “I at least know who I will vote for as most original.”
She laughed. “I am very afraid it is me. Surprisingly, Lady Pembroke seemed to admire my bee costume.”
“As do I,” Lord Thorpe said.
Serenity did not answer that, as what was there to say? He was so kind though the idea that she looked ridiculous had been growing in her ever since she’d arrived.
“Perhaps we might try the card room? We might attempt to sensibly get to twenty-one this time.”
“Oh let’s do,” Serenity said, feeling that was indeed a very good idea. “I am certain we will pay far closer attention and will acquit ourselves admirably.”
“You are certain of that?”
“No, not really,” Serenity said, laughing.
*
Charles left LadyDarlington’s masque in a blind rage. When he arrived to his apartments in The Albany, he paced back and forth with the assistance of liberal glasses of brandy. That duke! That damn duke! If he had been like any other father in the wide world, he would have reacted decisively to even a whisper that one of his daughter’s suitors had meddled with a servant. He would have cut off all contact with Thorpe and that would have been that. Victory would have been achieved.
What a victory it would have been, too. It was the kind of thing he could remind Thorpe of forevermore. “Ah, brother, you thought to secure Lady Serenity but her father did not find you up to the mark.”
There were small moments in his frenzied pacing when the idea that he’d not executed the scheme perfectly presented itself to him, but he just as quickly brushed them away. Perhaps the execution had not been perfect, but it had been close enough for any reasonable father. In any case, the next time he needed to do anything similar, he’d send a man who was not wearing livery.
As the brandy began to numb his thoughts, it also began to turn them in a new direction. Both brandy and port had theunique ability to soften the edges of any disappointment and then swirl ideas all round until a far happier conclusion was reached. Why was he moping like all was lost? He was a victor, he always had been. Perhaps the dukehadseen that the porter delivering the letter was wearing The Albany’s livery. Perhaps hedidknow Charles was the author of that letter. That did not mean he would not come to believe it. In fact, it might just dawn on that duke that a brother on the scene was the likeliest to know what had happened regarding that maid.
If only Thorpe did not come off as such an upstanding citizen. That was the real sticking point. His damn brother was always so careful not to put a foot out of place. Worse, the one weakness he’d had, his mopey sentimentality, seemed to have fled.
Charles paused. He’d not got anywhere attempting to affect the duke’s estimation of his brother. It was not entirely clear if Lady Serenity was aware of the letter. She’d said she’d been told to decline. That might have been all she was told.
If he could not bring Thorpe lower, was there a way to raise himself higher? Certainly, that must be the ticket. Prove himself superior in her eyes.
What would Lady Serenity admire? His mind ran through all the likely things a lady might admire. He might claim to have been in a duel or maybe he was beset by a gang of footpads and roundly defeated them. He might even darken one eye so that people were all but forced to inquire into what happened.
But then, that might not work with her. She might fan herself over the violence. He could perhaps pretend at being a poet—she seemed a rather dreamy and impractical specimen, she might admire that quite a lot. Was there somebody living in The Albany and finding themselves short on funds that might whip up some sloppy and overwrought phrasings for a price?
