Page 9 of A Perplexing Regency Romance (The League of Meddling Butlers #5)

Hugh had suspected what he would encounter when he entered Almack’s.

As he was a duke, and as everybody would know he was to wed this year, he was far too tempting a catch to be able to slip in ignored.

The patronesses all took an excessive pride in having “made the match,” and so descended upon him.

The Countess of Westmoreland got to him first and took him in hand.

She had a long list of suitable ladies he was to be put down for.

He listened agreeably, as what else could he do?

Once the countess had run out of breath and ladies, he said, “I would like to be put down for Miss Fernsby’s card.

She comes with the Duchess of Ralston. The dance before supper, preferably. ”

“Miss Fernsby? Oh, I see, Miss Fernsby. Well goodness, Sir Roger has already requested that dance.”

Sir Roger? He was forty if he was a day. What was he doing taking the dance before supper? Or any dance, for that matter.

“I see,” Hugh said. “Then what other dances would Miss Fernsby be open for?”

“All of them, I believe,” the countess said.

“Put me down for the first,” he said. “I leave to you what else to do with me.”

The countess nodded. “I will give you a list once I’ve arranged it.”

Just then, he was slapped on the back. He turned to find Seddie grinning at him as if he’d not almost killed him on the Thames.

“You look better than the last time I saw you.”

“I imagine I would, considering you went to great lengths to drown me,” Hugh said drily.

“Nonsense. I was in far more danger than you ever were. I thought Browning would kill me before I could get out of your house.”

“He is not amused,” Hugh said.

“He is never amused.”

“He follows me around, waiting to hear if I will cough due to an infection of the lungs.”

“He needs to keep you alive until you get an heir, his livelihood depends on it. Once you have a boy on the ground, I doubt he’ll care if you throw yourself into the Thames on a daily schedule.”

“After that misadventure, I presume you do not mean to go forward with the regatta,” Hugh said.

“Are you mad? Of course I’m going forward. I hired a man who showed me all the ins and out. We’ve been out twice already and I’ve got cracking good.”

Hugh was sure he looked dubious over the idea.

“You and I will sail through the finish line, leaving everybody else behind.”

“Me?” Hugh asked. He did not at all care to try out round two of Captain Seddie, Seaman of Misadventure.

“I will remind you,” Seddie said, “that you are my oldest friend and I depend on you. Who else could I possibly get?”

Seddie was forever trotting out the “oldest friend” business and the truth was that the “who else” he could get was nobody. Nobody would be as daft as Hugh to do it. He sighed, which Seddie took as an enthusiastic affirmative.

They made their way into the ballroom. Hugh scanned the crowd. “Let me know if you spot Miss Fernsby,” he said.

“Miss Fernsby? The lady that you encountered on The Strand?”

“Yes, the lady who came to render aid just after I was unceremoniously dumped on the road. That lady. I found her charming.”

“Really? I would not have guessed she was your type.”

“What is my type, exactly?”

Seddie tapped his chin. “Hmmm. Come to think of it, nobody knows. As for my type, Lady Genevieve is still at home. I hope she gets here in time to see us win the regatta.”

“Lady Genevieve will take a dim view of what has happened so far. You know how sensible she is and how she deplores the things you do. I expect she will scold you over it.”

“Only if somebody tells her. In any case, I find her scoldings rather endearing.”

“Your Grace!”

After his ears were nearly assaulted by the greeting, his arm was actually assaulted with a lady’s fan. Lady Violet’s fan, to be specific.

He would be most unhappy if the Countess of Westmoreland had put him down on Lady Violet’s card.

She was the younger sister of one of his circle, the Earl of Packington.

He’d had the bad luck to be introduced to the lady at Packington’s house party last summer.

The girl had not even been out and yet she’d swanned around as if she were the hostess.

Packington had been very liberal and included her in the dinners and parties.

Hugh found her a nuisance. She had a brittle laugh, which she employed often as everything in the world was found amusing.

She was coquettish. She was determined to be daring.

Hugh’s sister, Lucinda, thought she was marvelous, which must be a mark against her character.

At the house party, it had felt as if she were following him.

Any time he tucked himself away in a quiet corner, there she was.

He’d taken to reading in his room to avoid her. He did not like any of it.

“Lady Westmoreland insisted on putting your name down for my second. I said, Lady Westmoreland, what could the illustrious Duke of Greystone want with little me ?”

That was a very good question. He wondered how Lady Westmoreland had answered, as he could not think of a single thing he wanted from Lady Violet. He also did not know why she imagined she was little, as she was as tall as he was.

“Well,” Lady Violet prattled on, “she could not even meet my eye, so I do not dare imagine what devilish thing you said to her.”

“I said nothing to her,” Hugh said.

Seddie poked him in the ribs, as he would be enjoying the exchange. At Packington’s house party, Seddie had been endlessly amused by Lady Violet asking him if he’d seen the duke. Sometimes he would tell her and sometimes he would send her on a goose chase.

Lady Violet launched one of her brittle laugh-salvos. “Oh, it was as bad as that? It cannot be repeated? You are shocking, Your Grace.”

Hugh forced a smile. He would very much like to have the latitude to actually be shocking at this moment. If he could, he would say, “Here’s something shocking. You are annoying.” He did not have that luxury, though. Nobody did. A gentleman must be courteous, even when he was pushed to his limit.

“Sir Edward,” Lady Violet said, “I understand you are to take me into supper.”

“Am I?” Seddie asked, looking not quite as amused as he had been.

Lady Violet nodded. “Wait and see if I don’t pry from you what shocking thing His Grace said to Lady Westmoreland.”

Hugh turned to smile at his friend. Seddie was in for a long supper. Seddie put a good a face on it as he could and just muttered, “Well…”

Hugh’s eyes drifted round the ballroom. Then he spotted the Duchess of Ralston. And by Her Grace’s side, Miss Fernsby.

She was looking terrific. When he’d seen her on The Strand, she’d worn a plain straw bonnet.

He’d noted the fair curls peeking out from its brim, but now she was without a bonnet and he saw the full glory of it.

Waves and ringlets framed her lovely face.

She smiled at something the duchess said and there were the dimples.

He’d been certain she had dimples. Those round little cheeks could not be without dimples. She really was charming.

“Lady Violet,” he said with a curt bow and strode off. Seddie could manage her. Or try to. Hugh had the charming Miss Fernsby to see.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Finella had not been terribly confident when she’d viewed herself in the glass, after having been wrangled into her blue silk dress.

There were no sequined butterflies to hide behind.

There was just Finella. She wore the simply gold cross her father had given her for her twelfth birthday.

She admired it but did not think to would particularly draw the eye.

Her spirits had improved a little bit upon noting the duchesses’ approval of the dress. As the duchess must know best, Finella decided to be satisfied with it. She would not be the prettiest lady at the ball, but it seemed she would at least be respectable.

When they’d entered Almack’s, Finella got her first look at the real power of the Duchess of Ralston. The patronesses all but tripped over themselves to make their greetings to the lady.

Finella could not say any of those ladies tripped over themselves to make her own acquaintance. They were perfectly polite, and she attributed that to the fact that the duchess escorted her there. Otherwise, she very much doubted they’d have given her a second look. Or a voucher, for that matter.

She’d been fully prepared ahead of time that a patroness would manage her dance card.

She did not mind it actually. She’d attended a few assemblies at home and had found standing around with her card in hand, waiting for a gentleman to approach, a nerve-wracking operation. It brought out all her insecurities.

At home, as a matter of happenstance, there were far too many young gentlemen and far too few young ladies.

She could be assured of having a full card.

Even then, even knowing it would be near impossible to sit out a dance, it had made her nervous.

Here, with all these fine-looking and sophisticated people, she could have been so easily overlooked.

And then, the thing she was not meant to be thinking about drifted back into her mind.

The fine-looking and sophisticated Duke of Greystone.

The duchess had made an offhand comment in the carriage that Finella was already introduced to a gentleman who was sure to attend, despite the unusual circumstances of their meeting.

Finella had felt such a thrill to hear his name spoken aloud.

She reminded herself that the very lucky thing about thoughts was that nobody else could hear them.