Page 14 of Lady Ferocity (A Series of Senseless Complications #1)

“M y best coat, Radcliff,” Percy said. Lady Lewellyn’s ball felt momentous in some manner. He planned to get there early and he was determined to take Lady Felicity into supper.

He’d spent the day at White’s and he was growing concerned over the talk about Lady Felicity. It seemed just a moment ago that it had been he hailed as the hero of the hour for facing down a tiger. He’d been the tiger-slayer. Now it seemed all the credit was going to Lady Felicity.

The general consensus seemed to be that she’d held the fates of both him and her father the duke in her charming hands. Had she reacted as any lady might be expected to, she would have screamed or attempted to run away.

Sir Matthew, claiming to have a friend who was an expert on big cats, had written to him outlining the events of the night. He’d since received a letter back congratulating the lady involved for not provoking an attack by keeping her nerve. That had seemed to settle the matter.

He did not mind that Lady Felicity was now looked upon as a dashing heroine. At least, not very much. But he very well knew there would be a line of gentlemen trying to get on her card. They’d all want to go round on the morrow, casually mentioning their conversations with Lady Felicity regarding the tiger.

Idiots.

“May I inquire why it is to be your best coat for a rather run-of-the mill occasion?” Radcliff asked.

“Just a whimsy, that’s all,” Percy said.

“A whimsy? Now you’re having whimsies, are you?”

“I can have a whimsy if I wish to,” Percy said curtly.

“I suppose the tiger-tamer will be attending?”

“If you mean Lady Felicity, yes I believe so.”

“Well here is something whimsical. It is whispered that the lady’s aunt, Lady Marchfield, was seen attending a cyprian’s party,” Radcliff said.

“A cyprian’s party? Lady Marchfield? That’s completely ridiculous.”

Radcliff shrugged. “It seems certain gentlemen of the ton were in attendance and the story is that the duke brought her and then left her there.”

Percy mulled it over. That was slightly more believable, as who knew what the duke might do to amuse himself.

Or perhaps it was that housekeeper who had somehow arranged it. She had hinted at some mystery, some dinner that Felicity was meant to beg off at the last moment when he’d seen them all at Lackington & Allen.

Percy sat back. Of course. Lady Cyprion’s dinner. That was why he’d never heard of the lady.

Having a housekeeper who would dare such a thing was… a lot more whimsical than wishing to wear one’s best coat. It was also exactly the type of housekeeper the duke would choose.

“Apparently,” Radcliff went on, “once Lady Marchfield caught on to the place, she ran out shrieking. First, she was yelling “Roland!” But then his carriage turned a corner and disappeared into the night. Then she began shouting for a hackney. The courtesan running the event managed the whole thing, flagged her one, and then paid the driver. I imagine she was glad to see the back of the lady.”

Percy laughed in spite of himself. He did not know if all the details of this wild tale were true, but it was hilarious all the same.

“That duke sounds like he’s not all there upstairs,” Radcliff said.

“Oh, he’s all there, I can assure you,” Percy said. “He just doesn’t give a toss for… anything really. He says and does what he wants and, from my view, confounding Lady Marchfield is one of his principal amusements. Though, confounding my father must be a close second. He calls him Sir Pineapple, for reasons I won’t go into.”

“That duke sounds like a rum sort,” Radcliff said. “I only say, you might think carefully before connecting yourself to such a family.”

“Who said anything about me connecting myself?”

“Your father. He’s been raving about it all day.”

“He doesn’t know anything.”

“So you don’t have the interest, then? Might want to put the old soldier out of his misery.”

“The whole point of the ruse with Lady Felicity is to convince my father I’m set on her, but that she prefers Wiles.”

“Perhaps, but the viscount thinks the duke is set on a match, which means Lady Felicity may be too, all on account of the duke tricking you to dine at his house.”

“I wish my father would just calm down, though I know it’s not in his nature.”

This caused Radcliff to laugh. “It certainly isn’t in his nature this moment. Just now, he’s in the front hall, making the footmen nervous and waiting for you to descend. He’s a hound at a fox den, waiting for his quarry to show itself.”

“Is he now,” Percy said. “He’s forgotten that any self-respecting fox den has more than one exit. I’ll tell you what, I’ll go down the servants’ stairs and slip out the back of the house. I can saddle my horse and be off before the hound is any the wiser.”

“And what am I to say about it when he asks where you are?”

“Just say you lost track of me—here one minute, disappeared the next, just like a fox. My best coat, Radcliff. There is not a moment to waste.”

*

Felicity and her father were to travel to Lady Lewellyn’s ball sans Lady Marchfield. Her aunt had sent over a note saying she could not bear to be in such close quarters to her brother and she had no wish to be left behind at the end of the evening, as she so shamelessly had been at two other locations.

Felicity had the idea that the complaining note was meant to make her father feel terrible, though it seemed to have the opposite effect. He’d spent a half-hour outlining all the various locations he could leave Lady Marchfield, including a gaming hell, a pawn shop, and the dark walk in Covent Garden. He speculated that he was just getting started in thinking up places to leave the lady.

She met her father in the great hall. The duke was looking amused and the footmen were looking terrified. Felicity could not imagine what her father had been up to, though surely it was something.

“There you are, Felicity,” the duke said. “Go ahead and ask one of these lads where Mr. Why is this moment. What is the reason our esteemed butler is not here at the ready to see us off, you wonder. Go ahead, ask them.”

Felicity looked enquiringly at the footmen. Charlie said, “I believe, Lady Felicity, that Mr. Sykes-Wycliff is—”

Before Charlie could explain where Mr. Sykes-Wycliff was, the gentleman himself came storming into the hall. With a valise in hand.

“Get away from me! Don’t come near!” he shouted, though nobody had made an attempt to approach him. “I don’t need a reference and wouldn’t take one if you offered it. You can clobber somebody else with your midnight door-knocking and if you ever believed I would run round the moors while you chased me with large knives, you’ve another thing coming. Furthermore, you can tell Lady Marchfield I said so!”

Mr. Sykes-Wycliff threw the front doors open and jogged down the street. From Felicity’s viewpoint, he still was not very fast, despite all his jogging round the square of a morning. It was just as well that there was no such thing as a servants’ hunt, else he’d have been done in attempting to scrabble round the moors.

“From that pack of nonsense, I detect Mrs. Right’s hand in this,” the duke said, all jollity.

The footmen looked in different directions, so Felicity suspected their hands had been in it too. As had her and her sister’s hands. She supposed Mr. Sykes-Wycliff never stood a chance.

“Excellent,” the duke said. “Wait until I inform Lady Misery that her latest project has failed spectacularly.”

They proceeded out to the carriage and could just make out Mr. Sykes-Wycliff turning the corner and he was gone. Wherever that gentleman settled, he was bound to be happier. As they had all decided from the outset, Mr. Sykes-Wycliff’s respect for himself would blossom when he was somewhere he was wanted. He might not see it yet, but they had done him a kindness in driving him mad.

Felicity was helped into the carriage and noticed a large sack on the seat. “Are those the pence you asked for, Papa?”

He nodded and seemed very pleased about it.

“Dare I ask why you are taking them to a ball?” She would not put it past the duke to hand them out to people he found tedious. Naturally, Lady Marchfield would be in receipt of most of them.

The duke had taken a folded sheet of paper from his coat. “Look at this—a bill from Lady Albright. She claims we owe her nine pounds on account of her very expensive sofa being ruined by bloodstains.”

“That is outrageous!” Felicity exclaimed. “For one, she was the inattentive person who left the padlock off the tiger’s cage. For another, she left us out there to be torn to pieces. And for another, it was Mr. Stratton’s blood, not mine.”

“Just as I thought too. But do not fret over it. I’ve brought the payment in pence and added in a padlock for good measure. We’ll see how she likes it then!”

“Ah, so that’s why we left so early,” Felicity said, “we make a stop.”

“No pulling the wool over your eyes, eh?”

“As that is the case, I suppose it is a good thing my aunt makes her own way to the ball.”

“It is always a good thing when Lady Misery keeps her distance.” The duke rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait to tell her I threw nine pounds worth of pence into Lady Albright’s house. Then, just as she’s staggering over it, I’ll hit her with the news that Mr. Why lost his faculties and ran off into the night.”

Felicity thought her aunt really would be staggered. She suspected Lady Marchfield had not quite regained her equanimity since the cyprian party. It was her understanding that it was talked about, and Lady Marchfield was advertising far and wide that it had been the duke’s doing. Her father did not care at all about being blamed. He was happy to be known as the author of what he deemed a “hilarious turn of events.”

The carriage proceeded to Lady Albright’s house. The duke said, “Stay here, Felicity, I may have to wrestle the butler. Watch out the window if it amuses you.”

Her father jumped down to the pavement with his sack of pence and jogged up to the front doors. Of course Felicity had every intention of watching from the window. She pulled back the curtain and peered out.

Her father gave the door a good pounding. Then another pounding. Lady Albright’s butler answered, clearly out of breath. The poor fellow must have run all the way up from the servants’ hall.

“Your Grace!” he said, “I am sorry, Lady Albright has gone out.”

“Stand aside,” the duke said in a commanding voice.

The poor butler did stand aside and there was no wrestling required. The duke took handfuls of pence out of his sack and proceeded to throw them into Lady Albright’s great hall as the shocked fellow looked on.

The duke poured the last of them out and said, “Do not sweep these up or I’ll come back with twice the amount in bricks! I want that confounded woman to see it just as I’ve left it. With any luck, she’ll slip on them and break her neck. You can tell Lady Lunatic, she’s been paid for her incompetence and disregard for her guests’ lives. Oh, and here is an extra padlock, since she has so much trouble keeping track of them!”

The duke pulled his arm back and threw the padlock through Lady Albright’s drawing room window. The glass shattered with a crash.

Gracious, her father was irascible. Felicity was not at all surprised that he’d showered Lady Albright’s great hall with coins, and quite right he do so considering the bill for the sofa. However, she had not expected him to break a window. She wondered if Lady Albright would try to send a bill for that . She hoped not, as there was no telling what her father would do about it. He might really return with a farmer’s cart of bricks if the lady were not careful.

The duke clambered back into the carriage very pleased with himself. Lady Albright’s butler stood horror-struck at her front doors. The duke’s coachman, being well used to his employer’s interesting personality, remained stone-faced as if nothing at all untoward had occurred.

The duke rapped on the roof and they set off—the duke waving a genial goodbye to Lady Albright’s butler.

“A job well done,” the duke said. “Lady Albright will not dare trifle with me again, I’ve made it too much trouble to do so. That is the trick with people—make it deuced inconvenient to cross you and they won’t do it, you see?”

“I do see,” Felicity said, laughing. “But poor Grace—when it comes time for her season, or all my sisters that follow, I cannot imagine Lady Albright will send an invitation.”

“I wouldn’t allow your sisters to go to that blasted woman’s house even if she did invite them,” the duke said. “I’ve been clear as day on the matter—I want you all out of the house as fast as possible, but I don’t fancy seeing any of you mauled by a wild animal. No self-respecting gentleman would condone it.”

Felicity nodded, her father really could be sentimental on occasion.

“Speaking of getting you out of the house, what about Stratton? You could do worse, Almack’s was filled with ungainly young men lurching all over the place. At least that fellow has two things going for him. If you ever face a tiger again, he’s handy to have around. As well, I don’t know how his valet is achieving that knot, but I’d like to know it.”

“Oh, Papa, I do not know—”

“Nobody ever knows,” the duke said. “You don’t really know a person until they’re in the same house with you. How could it be otherwise? That’s why marriage is known as the great roll of the dice.”

“Is it called so?”

“Well if it isn’t, it should be. Do you like the look of him?”

“The look of him, well… he is handsome enough. People say. In the usual way of things.”

“There you have it, then. He can get you away from a tiger, wears a very good knot, and you don’t run screaming from him when you see his face. You’ve got as good a chance as any couple.”

Felicity sat back. Did any of that make sense? She really did not dare take her father’s opinions as gospel, as he was very free with the truth. On the other hand, what would she really know about the gentleman she chose to wed? Perhaps ‘would save her from a tiger’ was more than she would know about most gentlemen.

And then, while she knew so little about Lord Rustmont, she knew he would not save her from a tiger. Though, she was still interested to hear his side of things. There was still the slim chance he might have a reasonable explanation for his disappearance. Though she could not think what it would be.

Still, to consider Mr. Stratton? She had disdained him from the first. Though, she must admit, she had found him handsome from the first too. Then, his actions at Lady Albright’s house had swayed her. And his attendance at dinner at her father’s house had swayed her still. He seemed to take her father in stride, which so many people failed to do. There was no point in denying she found him more genial than she had initially done.

Perhaps she did like him particularly. She must do, she thought about him all the time.

“Papa, how was it with you and Mama?”

The duke laughed long and hard. He caught his breath and said, “Your sainted mother came near to engaged to a baron from Hertfordshire. Lord Randall, was his name. I saw which way the wind was blowing and laid out the facts. I said, Lady Mary, do you not see that Randall is a blowhard of the worst sort with an unbendable walnut walking stick for a spine? He will expect his lady to be staid in the extreme and will not allow her to put a foot out of place. If you wed me , you might do any ludicrous thing you like and I’ll say nothing about it.”

“Did she wish to do ludicrous things?”

“I suspected it, that’s why I used that argument. How about this—one year, she decided she wished to know how to bake cakes. A duchess, in the kitchens, baking cakes? Who ever heard of it? Down to the kitchens she went. They were awful, by the by. Then, at another moment, she decided she’d rather be called Tulip, than Mary.”

“And you did not say anything about it?”

“I ate the cakes and called her Tulip. The Tulip gambit only lasted a year, and I admit to being grateful for it. I think delivering the twins set her off in some manner. Set me off too, come to think of it. Daughters—they never stopped coming. Nevertheless, she wanted to be called Tulip, and so Tulip it was. Best advice I can give you on the marriage front—let people be as they are. People don’t like to be constrained or bossed about.”

Felicity thought that was probably wise advice. After all, she did not like to be constrained or bossed about, so why should anybody else like it?

The world thought her father was the sum total of what they could see. But he did have hidden depths he allowed to peek out from time to time.

“Here we are,” the duke said, “let’s track down Lady Misery and give her the good news about where nine pounds in pence ended up, and that her protégé of a butler has run screaming from the house.”

And then there was the part the duke usually allowed people to see.

*

Percy had circled the great hall of Lady Llewellyn’s house like a shark cruising a fisherman’s harbor. He was a rather awkward shark, actually. He supposed an actual shark would have the surrounding fish avoiding its eye and heading in opposite directions. As it was, it was turning out to be quite the trick to keep an eye out for Lady Felicity, without catching the eye of someone he’d rather not catch the eye of.

He’d studiously avoided Lady Marchfield’s eye, though she’d glared at him as if her discomfort was somehow his fault. He had no wish to speak to the lady, as what was one to say about her attendance at a cyprian party?

He’d equally avoided catching the eye of several hopeful young ladies. He did not imagine any of them were particularly interested in him. Rather, it would be a feather in their bonnet to claim Mr. So-and-So had been determined to waylay them at the earliest possible moment.

He was not in the mood to be anybody’s feather in a bonnet.

Finally, Lady Felicity was led in by her father. She was pretty as a picture. The duke was looking in exceedingly good spirits, which Percy assumed had left someone else encountering him in somewhat more depressed spirits.

Percy strode over and waited until they had made themselves known to Lady Llewellyn. After they had done so, he said, “Your Grace, Lady Felicity.”

“Fast off the mark, eh, Stratton?” the duke said.

Percy only smiled, as he had no intention of confirming or denying that he’d been waiting particularly.

“My father means to say, how fortuitous that we should so speedily encounter someone we know,” Lady Felicity said.

“By the by, Stratton, have you laid eyes on Lady Misery?”

“I presume you mean me to understand Lady Marchfield?” Percy said. He was not about to start referring to the lady by that name, though it was rather apt at the moment. “I have indeed, Your Grace, she is inside the ballroom I believe.”

“Hah! Well do I have a few things to tell her! Our butler has run off, for one. Take Felicity to drop her cloak and pick up her card, if you will.”

With that, the duke turned and hurried away, fast after his quarry.

“Oh dear,” Lady Felicity said softly.

“Are you fearful, Lady Felicity?” Percy asked, thinking it was not very like her. “I assure you I can be trusted to escort you to the cloakroom.”

“No, no, it is not that. I would hardly be fearful of a gentleman at a ball. It is just that my father is on the verge of sending my aunt into a right temper…when she hears all.”

They began to walk down the corridor. Percy said, “Would it be too bold to inquire into what ‘all’ is?”

Lady Felicity nodded, which Percy was not sure meant he was too bold, or he was not.

She said, “We all drove Mr. Sykes-Wycliff from the house, I’m afraid. My father does not even know the extent of it.”

Percy raised his brows. “How does one drive a butler from the house, exactly?”

“Oh, you know, the usual gambits,” she said. “We mentioned my father knocks on people’s doors in the middle of the night and then clobbers whoever answers. That sort of thing.”

“ Does he do that?”

“Goodness no, he is a very sound sleeper. Well, he snores and sometimes shouts, but he never gets up and walks around.”

Percy was relieved to hear it, though he could well see how Mr. Sykes-Wycliff had believed the duke was cruising the corridors at night and tapping on doors. It sounded like just the sort of thing the Duke of Pelham would get up to.

“Well, I suppose Lady Marchfield cannot stay too distraught that you have lost your butler,” he said. “She’s still got her own butler, presumably.”

“That is not all, though. After she hears of that she will be told of my father’s visit to Lady Albright’s house. We were just there.”

“Returning to the scene of that debacle? I am determined never to set foot in that house again.”

“Yes, well you see, Lady Albright sent my father a bill because I stained her sofa with blood. Your blood of course.”

“Ah yes, mine. You were very good to risk your dress on my account.”

“You were very good to throw my India shawl into the cage to lure the tiger back into it.”

“It was nothing at all.”

“You have healed, then?”

“Right as rain,” Percy said, though that was not precisely the truth. “But I say, how very forward of Lady Albright to send a bill, considering her part in it.”

“Yes, that is what I thought! My father did not take kindly to it at all.”

Percy stopped in his tracks. “My god, he hasn’t gone and let the tiger out as some sort of ill-advised retribution?”

“Heavens no, that would be rather dangerous. No, the lady demanded nine pounds in payment, and so my father delivered it in pence and threw it all over her front hall, much to her butler’s distress.”

Percy burst out laughing. It was marvelous. Only the duke could get away with such a maneuver.

“And then he threw a padlock through her drawing room window.”

Now he was laughing harder. Really, if all the ton would go on as the duke did, London would be a highly amusing destination.

Lady Felicity began to laugh too. “Gracious, I hope Lady Albright is not here!”

“Because your father—”

“Yes, who knows what—”

“What he’d say to the lady,” Percy said, tamping down his laughter. “Whatever it is, she will not like it.”

“I am sure she will not.”

“I will try to be nearby, I shan’t like to miss it.”

“Mr. Stratton, what a terrible thought.”

“Is it?”

“No, not really.”

They had reached the cloakroom and Percy helped her from her pelisse and handed it to the footman. The footman in turn handed over Lady Felicity’s dance card.

“If I may, Lady Felicity?” Percy asked.

She nodded her acquiescence and he put himself down for the dance before Lady Llewellyn’s supper.

Just then, Lord Rustmont approached. “Lady Felicity, I am pleased to see you looking well.”

“Maybe you should be pleased to see the lady looking alive ,” Percy said drily.

Rustmont reddened, as well he should.

“If I might put my name down, Lady Felicity. I would be grateful for the opportunity to speak of the extenuating circumstances of that unfortunate evening,” Lord Rustmont said.

“Very well,” Lady Felicity said.

Percy could not read her tone, but it was not the tone of original enthusiasm she’d had for Rustmont. The fool ought to have known better—leave a lady to fight a tiger on her own and it was not likely to fan any flames of affection.

Rustmont penciled his name in for the first. He handed Lady Felicity’s card back to her.

Percy leveled a stare at him. “Well? Was there anything else?”

“Careful, Stratton,” Rustmont said, looking a combination of surprised and annoyed.

“Careful of my person, do you say? I ought to heed it, I suppose. You have become rather the expert of being careful of your person. By the by, you should probably avoid the duke—you know how a father can be about a daughter left to fend for herself when wild animals are involved. Downright devilish.”

Percy was amused to see Rustmont clenching his jaw. He was certain the almighty Corinthian would like to give him a set down. But what was the fellow to say? He’d run from the tiger, just like everybody else.

Rustmont delivered a curt bow. “Lady Felicity,” he said, and then turned and strode away.

“You were very naughty there,” Lady Felicity said to Percy.

“Yes. Yes, I was.”

Percy was beginning to wonder if the duke was rubbing off on him.