Page 12 of Lady Ferocity (A Series of Senseless Complications #1)

P ercy stared at the duke. What would he say was Lady Felicity’s best feature? This game was going to get very personal. Too personal!

Seven pairs of eyes bored into him.

“Uh, well, let’s see, if I am pressed…”

Lady Felicity’s complexion was growing redder by the minute. He assumed his own was following suit.

“The clock is ticking,” the duke said, “our lives are draining away minute by minute.”

“Her hair,” Percy said.

“Fibber!” Serenity cried. “It’s her eyes!”

Percy did not think he had a very good understanding of this game. Was it that he was to tell his truth or their truth?

“Well, I…”

“Never mind it, Stratton,” the duke said, pouring himself another port. “You can’t win with this army of hooligans. Have another port, it’s really the only thing you can do while you rack up blue tickets.”

Patience gave him his blue ticket, while the duke refilled his glass.

The game went on and Percy was grateful that there were so many daughters. Not every question was pointed in his direction.

Over the next hour, he discovered that the last sunrise Serenity had cried over had been that very morning. Apparently, she was very struck by sunrises.

Patience was asked how she fared with tea delayed for over an hour that afternoon, as there had been some sort of kerfuffle with the kitchen’s stoves. She claimed she simply occupied herself with a book. Everybody, including the duke who had not even been there, named her a fibber and she was promptly given a blue ticket.

As it would turn out, Lady Patience had several times stomped on the floor over the kitchens. The cook, being well used to the family and impossible to rattle, had answered her by using a broom handle to whack his ceiling in response.

Winsome was asked when last she’d accused Verity of making something up. It had been only a few hours ago and was perfectly true.

Verity was then asked if she had made something up. She stuck to her story, which was that it was an accepted fact that she had grown an inch in the past month. As everyone had eyes and could see her, she was promptly named a fibber.

It was inquired of Grace whether or not she’d tripped over anything that week. She vehemently denied it, but covered a bruise on her elbow at the same time so she was caught out.

Finally, all eyes drifted toward Lady Felicity. Grace said, “Felicity, has your opinion of Mr. Stratton changed since he saved you from a tiger?”

There had been a long pause. Then she had said quietly, “I believe so.”

She had been given a yellow ticket with no debate from anybody.

Percy could barely look in her direction. What did it mean?

He knew very well that she had begun by despising him and being bowled over by Rustmont. If her feelings regarding him had changed… well, he did not see how they could have got worse. If one is at the bottom of the barrel, one cannot go any deeper. The only way was up.

He must presume she had taken on a better opinion of him than she’d begun with. Of course, it made sense—a lady who had been through the shock of a tiger on the loose was bound to rethink some of her opinions.

Percy was not certain how he felt about this warming of temperatures. He ought to be wholly against it—it had been very convenient that Lady Felicity despised him.

He could not say he was wholly against it, though. This evening had been rather pleasant, after all.

“I know my opinion has changed,” Lady Winsome said. “It had been very low, if I’m to be honest, Mr. Stratton.”

“I, myself,” Lady Verity said, “always perceived Mr. Stratton’s worth.”

“Liar,” Lady Winsome said.

“Do you say, then, Winsome, that Mr. Stratton has no worth?” Verity asked.

“That is not what I say and you know it.”

“Do I?”

“Well!” Lady Felicity said, “I am afraid we have tired Mr. Stratton with our game.”

Lady Felicity looked warningly at all her sisters and they seemed to have received the message.

“Only to be expected, Stratton,” the duke said. “I live in a constant state of exhaustion, dealing with these people.”

“Papa!” Lady Grace said laughing.

Percy rose, as he thought he ought to take his leave before any more probing questions were thrown his way.

The goodbyes and farewells were all prettily done. Except perhaps from the duke, who called after him as he mounted his horse. “If you see my sister on your way home, drop her off at the nearest nunnery!”

Percy laughed all the way home.

*

After Mr. Stratton had left the house, Felicity and her sisters made a great show of being tired and left their father in the drawing room with his bottle of port.

All of them perceived that an immediate sisterly conference must be had to discuss impressions of the evening.

Felicity was most interested in hearing her sisters’ opinions, as hers were quite a jumble. It had occurred to her that the Mr. Stratton she had met this evening was a Mr. Stratton she would have been most interested in if she were encountering him for the first time.

She was only not certain of the cause. If her feelings were to change so much on account of being saved from a tiger, it would be well to know it. Those feelings arose from shock and would not last.

Winsome pulled the bell for tea and biscuits and Mrs. Right, fully expecting it, was up in a trice.

The sisters ranged round Felicity’s enormous bed while Mrs. Right took the chair by the fireplace and poured out cups of tea.

“Felicity,” Grace said, “Mr. Stratton is so different from what you described. What I mean to say is, you described his looks very well—they are really very good, and nobody could beat that knot. I noted Papa glancing at it several times.”

“But his temperament, Felicity,” Patience said. “That is what seems different from what you described.”

“It is different,” Felicity said. “He seems changed, somehow.”

“What won me over,” Serenity said, “was how kind he was to Valor—calling her Lady Valor and discussing the weather with her. It was very well done, I almost cried I was so moved.”

“Aye,” Mrs. Right said, “the little mite told me all about it, she was very gratified.”

“And he is so interesting, too,” Winsome said. “Imagine, he has a cat named Blueberry.”

“I was surprised that he admitted to being petrified of the tiger,” Verity said thoughtfully. “It seemed brave to admit it, somehow.”

“I really do not know what to think,” Felicity said. “It is almost as if there are two different Mr. Strattons. The one I do not give a toss for… and the other one.”

“Goodness, this is a circumstance we never discussed,” Grace said. “We spent hours and hours talking about what might happen in Town, but never about a gentleman with two personalities.”

“It is not quite that,” Felicity said. “Though I cannot put my finger on it.”

“No need to, my girl,” Mrs. Right said comfortably. “Time is often the answer to a question. Just see what happens next—whatever your final opinion on Mr. Stratton is to be, it need not be settled this minute.”

As always, Mrs. Right was full of sensible advice.

“That’s very true, Felicity,” Grace said. “When do you suppose you will see him next?”

“Lady Lewellyn’s ball,” Felicity said. “It is the day after next and he did say he would attend it.”

“Or even sooner, Felicity,” Winsome said. “You did mention to him that we were to go to Lackington & Allen on the morrow. If he were determined to see you, he would make his way there.”

“I read a novel where the gentleman was determined to see a lady behind her father’s back and began haunting all the shops,” Verity said. “It seemed to be a very usual thing.”

Felicity could not be sure if Verity had invented that or not. It certainly could be true. How would she view it if Mr. Stratton were seen lurking in Lackington & Allen?

Mrs. Right set down her cup and rose. “See what you think when next you see him, that’s my advice. Now, I’d best go and keep your father company in the drawing room, else he drinks that entire decanter of port by himself. Mr. Sykes-Wycliff will find my presence shocking, which is another advantage.”

“How does your plan to encourage him out of the house proceed, Mrs. Right?” Felicity asked.

“See for yourself in the morning. Mr. Sykes-Wycliff has taken to running round the square of a morning, to build himself up for the servants’ hunt that never was. I keep telling him he’s not near fast enough—and then I hurry away and laugh and laugh.”

“That is excellent news,” Grace said. “Perhaps we all ought to hint that he’s going rather slow.”

“Yes, do,” Mrs. Right said, “every bit helps. Now, Felicity, do recall that you are to dress for Lady Cyprion’s dinner on the morrow and then claim a headache at the very last minute. Right before you are all to get into the carriage.”

“I remember,” Felicity said. Of course, she would never let Mrs. Right down regarding one of her plans.

“There’s my girl,” Mrs. Right said. “We’ll play lottery tickets in the evening, while your aunt is getting the surprise of her life.”

With that interesting information, Mrs. Right departed the room to keep their papa entertained and stop him from getting too drunk.

After her sisters eventually left for their own beds, Felicity spent a good amount of time staring into the darkness and trying to work out her changed feelings regarding Mr. Stratton. She did not come to any firm conclusions.

*

Percy reasoned with himself that he went to Lackington & Allen simply because he must have an escape from the house. His father had trailed him from room to room, asking questions and making comments about his dining at the duke’s house the evening before.

“How was it that you accepted his invitation and had no memory of doing so?” the viscount asked. “Did he slip into Lady Albright’s house in the middle of the night and shake a promise from you?”

“No, he made the whole thing up,” Percy had answered.

“I knew it! Of course he did! Just like him to do it, too. Don’t you see what this is? It’s maneuvering. He’s trying to maneuver you into Lady Felicity’s clutches.”

“I do not believe Lady Felicity wishes to clutch anybody, sadly. You know I am set on her, though she seems to prefer Wiles.”

“What do you know about it—you’re too na?ve! The old lunatic is trying to get some sanity into the blood. That’s what he’s trying to do. He knows he’s as mad as a horde of bees—he’s thinking of future generations.”

Percy did not let on that he found that theory wildly amusing. As well, he did not think his father knew who was to carry on the family line of the dukedom, as the duke had no sons—it was probably a cousin somewhere. He would not get sanity in the line through a son-in-law.

“Did he dare refer to me as Sir Pineapple?” the viscount asked. “If he did, I will see him on a green!”

“No,” Percy lied. He did not see any benefit to being truthful, nor informing his father that he could expect further insults on account of the eccentricity of naming a cat Blueberry.

“If he ever calls me that again, well, he will answer for it!”

“I doubt he will answer for it. Did you not tell me right in the beginning that he was engaged to a duel twenty years ago and couldn’t be bothered to get up and go to it?”

“True, true, you can’t even box that fellow in with the idea of honor. He is shameless.”

Percy had finally been able to escape the house when his mother took over jousting with the viscount. Though it was getting late in the afternoon, he suspected he would not have missed Lady Felicity—all of her sisters were going and getting that many people out of the house at the same time was bound to take most of the day.

Finsbury Square was its usually bustling place, with the bookshop, or the Temple of the Muses as it was called by literary types, dominating the southeast part of the square.

He’d been very surprised to find Mr. Lackington himself milling round the front doors. The proprietor greeted him and then went back to staring intently out the windows.

“I perceive you must have a very elevated visitor set to arrive,” Percy said. “I’d say it must be the prince, but forgive me, I doubt he reads very much.”

“Gracious no, I do not suppose the prince is aware of my existence,” Mr. Lackington said. “I have been informed that the Duke of Pelham’s seven daughters will pay a visit. Seven ? Can you imagine?”

“I can, rather. I dined with them last evening.”

Mr. Lackington turned to him. “Did you? I was not informed whether the duke accompanies his daughters, but I have been told… well, I can hardly explain it.”

“That the duke is very original, shall we call it.”

“Yes, original. Very diplomatic word for it.”

“I doubt you will see the duke,” Percy said. “Though, you might see the housekeeper.”

“The housekeeper? That’s all right then.”

“Is it?”

“Isn’t it?” Mr. Lackington asked, his tone gone an octave higher.

“I cannot be certain,” Percy said.

“Gad, what a situation. The note from the duke said his daughters are all exceedingly unpleasant, but that I was to afford them every courtesy. What am I to do with seven unpleasant ladies?”

Percy laughed. “They are not at all unpleasant,” he said. “That is just the duke’s originality on display.”

Mr. Lackington rubbed his chin. “That’s something, I suppose. But there are seven, that’s really quite a lot.”

Percy thought for a moment. He could understand Mr. Lackington’s concern. In truth, the fellow probably ought to be more concerned than he was. He’d already seen Lady Grace throw a roll, who was to say she did not throw books too?

“You have that charming room upstairs, the one that overlooks the square,” he said. “You could put them all in there and then just bring them books on the subjects they express an interest in.”

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Lackington said, rubbing his hands together. “Keep them all in one place, contained as it were, excellent idea.”

“Do not tell them you have encountered me, if you please,” Percy said. “I would rather come upon them by happenstance.”

“I understand you, Mr. Stratton. I must have a half-dozen gentlemen every day, lurking the aisles and coming upon a lady by happenstance. The vicars of this town ought to be paying me for helping things on their way to a church.”

This caught Percy entirely by surprise, as he had no notion of hinting at such a radical step. He hurried away and left Mr. Lackington fretting at the front doors.

He climbed the staircase to the first floor and took a place by the windows to watch for Lady Felicity’s arrival.

He’d not had to wait long, nor could he have possibly missed it, as it took two of the duke’s carriages to transport such a crowd. Out they came, one by one. He’d been right in thinking that the duke would not attend them. The housekeeper was herding them like sheep gone toward the wrong field.

The last out of the carriages was Lady Felicity, in a charming, printed muslin dress and a sarsnet pelisse in a sunny yellow, with a jaunty straw bonnet with a matching ribbon topping the whole thing off.

Mr. Lackington hurried out to the pavement to greet them and was soon surrounded like a lame antelope on the savannah. He somehow fought his way out of it and led them through the front doors.

Percy heard them all chattering up the stairs. Poor Mr. Lackington was making a heroic effort to hear them all, though they all spoke at once.

He’d really better rescue the fellow. He stepped out of the aisle he had concealed himself in. “Lady Felicity, how fortuitous that I encounter you here.”

Lady Felicity went red as a ripe apple. Lady Grace said, “We did say we were coming, Mr. Stratton.”

Of course they did say that, but a lady was not to point out the lack of coincidence in a coincidence.

“Indeed you did, of course I could not be sure of the time, so a happy turn of events. Do let me show you into a sitting room of sorts. There, Mr. Lackington will send for tea and you can tell him what you’re after.”

Mr. Lackington had given him a grateful look. They filed into the room overlooking the square as the proprietor sent one of his assistants off for a tea tray.

“Mr. Lackington,” Percy said, “May I introduce you to Mrs. Right, Lady Felicity, Lady Grace, Lady Patience, Lady Serenity, Lady Winsome, Lady Verity, and Lady Valor.”

“All the graces,” Mr. Lackington said, with a flourishing bow.

All the graces indeed.

“Please do be seated and I welcome you to Lackington & Allen,” Mr. Lackington said.

“Ought we to sit, though?” Lady Felicity asked. “Should we not be roaming the aisles?”

“No need, my lady! No need at all,” Mr. Lackington said hurriedly. “Anything you require can be brought to you.”

“Now that’s a comfortable idea,” Mrs. Right said. “I did wonder how I was going to keep track of all my girls.”

“I tend to run off,” Valor said matter-of-factly.

The ladies arranged themselves on the sofas. Mr. Lackington said, “Now, what are your interests? What sort of books are you looking for? Lady Felicity?”

Percy had been sure Lady Felicity would ask for a gothic novel of some sort. It was his understanding that was all the rage with young ladies—they liked to terrify themselves before retiring for the night.

“Do you have any literature on stoats, Mr. Lackington?” Lady Felicity asked. “We are thinking of acquiring a pair to join our household.”

“We’d like to know what we’re getting ourselves into on the stoats’ front,” Mrs. Right said.

That had been surprising. Though, the next few minutes brought fewer surprises. The ladies Grace, Patience, Serenity, and Winsome were all in favor of gothic novels. As Lady Grace explained, the more frightening the better. Damsels in fear of being murdered every moment, preferably in an old and dark castle, were preferred.

That just left Lady Valor.

“I do not wish for anything scary, Mr. Lackington,” she said gravely. “Might you have something about fairies? Nice fairies, you understand. Or nice ponies.”

Mr. Lackington said he was certain to find something for the young lady, and set off to locate a tome on stoats, four gothic novels, and one faerie book. Or failing that, nice ponies.

The tea tray came in and was expertly managed by Mrs. Right.

“I understand you will miss the Gandrians’ rout this evening, on account of a dinner Lady Marchfield mentioned?” Percy asked Lady Felicity.

“Lady Cyprion’s dinner,” Lady Felicity said.

For some reason, this caused Mrs. Right to snort.

“Felicity is not going, though,” Lady Serenity said.

“She will pretend to go,” Lady Grace said, “and then claim a headache at the very last possible moment. They will have to go without her.”

“We do not yet know why,” Lady Patience said. “Though we think it will be very amusing—you see, our papa and our aunt are like Punch and Judy.”

“Our aunt is often cross,” Lady Valor clarified.

Percy had seen that well enough the evening before. He’d been casually acquainted with Lady Marchfield for some years but had never observed her temper before that.

But what could be the meaning of Lady Felicity pretending at a headache at the last minute, though nobody understood why she was meant to? He was not wholly against the idea, as Lady Marchfield had speculated that Lady Cyprion must have an eligible gentleman available for Lady Felicity. Whoever that fellow was, he could not be up to scratch, or Percy would have heard of the family.

“It is a mystery, you see,” Lady Felicity said. “Only our Mrs. Right knows why I am to have a headache.”

Mrs. Right bobbed her head up and down. “I’ll say nothing for now.”

“We do like a mystery,” Lady Winsome said. “Except for Patience. And Valor.”

“I don’t like mysteries because you don’t know what they’re about. It’s scary,” Lady Valor said.

“I don’t like to wait,” Lady Patience said.

“All will be known soon enough,” Mrs. Right said mysteriously.

“I hope it’s to do with driving Mr. Sykes-Wycliff from the house,” Lady Winsome said.

“Perhaps, in a roundabout manner,” Mrs. Right said smiling.

“We watched him run round the square this morning,” Lady Serenity said. “He was very out of his breath. He was clutching the railing of the park and heaving.”

“I’m sorry—your butler was running round Grosvenor Square?” Percy asked.

“Oh yes, that’s to do with—”

Lady Felicity cut off Lady Serenity before she could explain what it was to do with.

“Never mind what it’s to do with,” she said hurriedly.

“I have been assured that Jimmy is making a wonderful recovery,” Lady Valor said, “if that makes you feel better, Mr. Stratton.”

Percy was entirely lost. All he could gather was there was a mysterious dinner Lady Felicity would not attend, and it was indeed mysterious—he’d never heard of Lady Cyprion. Who on earth was she? As well, they were set on driving the butler from the house, which somehow involved him running round their square. And who was Jimmy? What was he recovering from?

Percy thought the butler might be well served to set off running and keep going from whence he came. Maybe he ought to take Jimmy with him!

Mr. Lackington came back with an armful of books. Lady Felicity was to be gratified in her wish to gain more knowledge regarding the habits of stoats, though Percy could not think it a wise choice to emulate Lady Albright on any matter.

It seemed there were endless choices regarding gothic novels, and the four sisters who requested them were to be scared out of their wits for weeks to come. Lady Valor was equally satisfied, as she perused a book called The Gentlest Unicorn .

“Well, ladies, I think Mr. Lackington has things well in hand,” Percy said. “Lady Felicity, I hope to see you at Lady Lewellyn’s ball.”

Lady Felicity nodded prettily.

“I suppose you will insist on taking her first dance, Mr. Stratton?” Lady Serenity said.

Before he could answer that rather forward question, Lady Patience said, “No, Serenity, Mr. Stratton will wish to take the dance before supper. For extended conversation, you see.”

“Oh yes, that does make sense,” Lady Serenity said.

All eyes looked toward him, but for Lady Felicity’s, as she had turned away.

“Perhaps Lord Rustmont will beat me to it,” Percy said.

Why did he say that? What a stupid thing to say.

“Lord Rustmont?” Lady Winsome exclaimed. “I should hope not. He ran away, Mr. Stratton. At the critical moment, he ran away from the tiger.”

“So he did,” Percy said.

“Sisters,” Lady Felicity said, “we do not yet know Lord Rustmont’s explanation for why he… disappeared.”

“ I know,” Percy said. “He’s not the suave and heroic Corinthian he claims to be.”

“I’ve never even heard of a suave and heroic Corinthian,” Lady Grace said. “Just a regular Corinthian.

“Well, in any case,” Lady Felicity continued, “do not bother Mr. Stratton with these questions. He is not at all obligated to put himself down on my card for any of the dances.”

“No?”

“Well, no.”

“Maybe I will, though.”

“Gracious,” Lady Valor cried, looking up from her book, “the gentlest unicorn really is the gentlest unicorn!”

“Ladies,” Percy said, bowing and fairly running from the room.