Jeremy was going on, pressing for an introduction. I wont have a better chance, not once all the hunters catch her scent.
It was lilacs. Daniel did not know if Miss Abbotts card was full. He should know those things, he thought, if he was in charge. Was he in charge of the female? Could he actually refuse to allow a rake to dance with her? No, he was not her father, and not like her father. And shed be furious at him, again.
He looked into the ballroom and thought he saw a woman in a gold gown float by. Sorry to disappoint you, but the lady is dancing.
Shell have to return to your mothers side when the music stops. Ill have a few minutes before her next partner claims her.
Id like an introduction, also, Lord Morgan said. And to your lady mother, of course. No harm intended to either lady, you understand. Paying respects, is all. Gentlemen, you know.
Did he know that? Daniel doubted any man could be trusted around Miss Abbott. Hell, he did not even know if Miss Abbott could be trusted.
Lord Morgan was going on: You might as well perform the service, my boy. Were bound to meet the ladies sooner or later at one ball or another. Im even thinking of stopping in at Almacks next week. See if anything appeals to me.
Like pastries in a shop window? Daniel grimaced at the image and at Lord Morgans tobacco-stained lips, but he knew the way of this world, and he knew he couldnt refuse.
He couldnt leave after those introductions, either, when Jeremy started spouting nonsense about Miss Abbotts beauty. Golden sunrise, his big foot! The man hadnt seen a sunrise in ten years.
Then Lord Morgan recalled meeting Lady Cora years ago, and told her she was more handsome today. All the other gallants gathered around them vied for a dance, a smile, to fetch a cool drink, to wave a fan, to recite bad poetry. Hell, half the cabbageheads were declaring CorieMiss Abbott, that ishad stolen their hearts with her grace and beauty and dignity and intelligence. Et cetera, ad nauseam.
Worst of all, Daniel felt, was he couldnt claim they had to leave the ball because of a rash. He wasnt feeling the least itchy. They all spoke the truth.
Chapter Twelve
C
ories current partner had possibilities. He dressed well, danced well, and spoke well on varied learned subjects. One of those interesting topics was his estate in Cornwall, which was as far from her father as Corie could hope to get. She thought he was in his forties, and knew he was unmarried. Other than that, shed ask Lady Cora about his prospects. If her godmother did not know his income to the shilling, his past indiscretions, and his future intentions, then Dobbson would, in the morning. For now, all Corie had to do was recall the gentlemans name and reply to his request to call at Royce House. There was a fraught line between looking too eager, which could make a bachelor skittish, and acting sophisticated and blasé, which might discourage him. She settled on needing to ask Lady Cora if they were receiving.
On the way to where her godmother was holding court, Corie spied one dark head above the rest. She stopped in her tracks. Would you mind escorting me to the refreshments room? Id like something cool before the next dance.
No, she would not prefer a walk out to the fresher air of the gardens. She was not that warm, not that eager. She had no intention of causing gossip or welcoming physical advances. Or letting her potential suitor speak to Daniel Stamfield.
Daniel was torn. Should he follow Corie to whatever trysting spot that cad Chadwick had found, or stay and defend his mother and sister from the Babcocks and the rest of the horde of admirers Lady Cora and Susanna had amassed? Granted, some of the swains were waiting for Miss Abbotts return, but Susanna had a following of her own, including Clarence Haversmith. Susanna had adopted the dolt, it seemed, the way she would a lost puppy.
Daniels mother had two older noblemen sitting on the spindly chairs to either side of her. One had a cane, one had a hearing trumpet, but together they owned half the land in Lincolnshire. Other slightly younger, slightly less-highly titled gentlemen of a certain age and dignity were not far off. Lord Morgan had to be content with leaning on his nephew and waiting for his turn at a seat near the wealthy, well-placed widow.
Daniel decided his relatives were safe enough, but Miss Abbott couldnt know what a practiced seducer Lord Chadwick was. The scholarly fellow appeared dull as ditch water, but he kept a string of expensive mistresses at a love nest in Kensington. Or maybe the determined female did know of Chadwicks lustful nature and hoped to wrest a proposal out of him that way, down some secluded garden path where they just might happen to be seen.
Chadwick was not a good choice, Daniel told himself. Aside from his mistresses, the man was more than twice Cories age, was boringly bookish, and had buried two wives already.
Daniel started to cross the dance floor, keeping a wary watch for the duchess, but he spotted Corie and the viscount coming back from the refreshments room. Then he had to pretend he wasnt on the lookout for them, so he decided to fetch himself another cup of punch, as dull as it was.
Daniel thought hed bring a cup back for Miss Thomlinson, too, while he was at it. No one else was going to, that was for certain. The space around her chair was filled with nothing but disappointment.
Just as he was about to find the woman and her chaperone, both of his hands full, the orchestra started up the next dance, a waltz. Zeus, hed almost walked right into the pitfall. If he showed up at Miss Thomlinsons side now, hed have to ask her to dance. There was scant chance of another fellow bespeaking the set before him. Two dances with the same female in one night, and one of them a waltz? Hed be expected to declare himself before the end of the evening.
He declared himself suddenly parched and so he drank both cups of overly sweet punch and headed back to his family.
Susanna was wheedling permission to waltz, but his mother was having none of it. If such a young girl waltzed without permission from one of the patronesses of Almacks, that holiest of holy shrines to manners and the matchmaking art, shed be barred from its sacred precincts. Which meant, in those rarefied circles, social death to a debutante.
The rules were not as strict for women past their first blush, but Corie said she was just as happy to sit the dance out . . . until she saw Daniel Stamfield headed toward them. She looked to Lady Cora for approval and, at her nod, accepted the first gentleman she saw. She placed her hand on Mr. Jeremy Babcocks slightly frayed coat sleeve and let him lead her out.
Daniel almost coughed up the insipid punch at the sight. Jeremy winked at him over Miss Abbotts mostly bare shoulder as he whisked her into the first turn on the less-crowded dance floor. She followed his lead gracefully, her gold skirts swirling around her legs, around Jeremys legs. Daniel cursed.
What the devil were you about, he whispered into his mothers ear, letting Miss Abbott go off with Babcock, for a waltz, no less?
Why, dear, I thought he was a friend of yours.
Exactly. That should have told you he was an unsuitable partner. No friend of mine is proper company. They all drink and gamble and associate with fast women. Besides, Babcock needs a wealthy bride.
Every man does, dear, even the rich ones. Why dont you find some nice heiress to dance with yourself? She tried to dismiss him so she could go back to flirting with her aged beaux. Lord Morgan appeared to have all his teeth, at any rate.
Daniel thought about the spectacled female hed narrowly escaped, then thought hed find the cardroom until the ladies were ready to leave. He was on his way, knowing the duke was bound to provide brandy and gaming for his own cronies somewhere in this huge pile.
Oh hell, the Duchess of Haigh was headed in his direction. He was too large to hide behind his mother, too slow to dive out the window, too bound to the truth to claim a sudden indisposition, although all that punch was not sitting kindly in his stomach.
The dragon was scowling at his mother this time, though, so he stayed where he was, more out of curiosity than loyalty. His mother had gotten them into this wasp nest; she could get them out. Then hed go find the necessary.
Bravery seemed in short supply among her new suitors, and Susannas, too. Half the gentlemen faded away, rather than confront the Gargoyle of Grosvenor Square. Her Grace was a higher stickler than any on the Almacks committee, and as loud in her righteousness as a cathedral bell. The oldster with the ear trumpet led the one with the cane as fast as they could go. Lord Morgan took one of the vacant seats, only because he was wheezing too hard to rush away.
One side of the duchesss upper lip curled when she spied the aging rake, but she turned to address Lady Cora. A word, my dear?
Daniels mother nodded graciously, for no one refused a duchess, and Susanna quickly relinquished her seat.
Word has reached me of a disturbing nature, Her Grace began, once she had adjusted her shawl and her skirts and her ostrich-plume headdress.
Both Lady Cora and Susanna frowned in Daniels direction. He shrugged his innocence.
I do not refer to the jackanapes this time. Tonight I am concerned about Miss Abbott.
Daniel looked over to make sure Babcock had not lured his mothers goddaughter out to the darkness. No, they were still waltzing and chatting companion-ably, the bounder.
The duchess leaned closer to Lady Cora. Not that I put credence to idle gossip, you know.
Daniel knew nothing of the kind. Her Grace was as big a scandalmonger as any
on-dit
columnist. She considered it her duty to unveil societys sinners. That was why her invitations were so coveted. One of her cards meant the recipient had passed muster.
She sniffed, reminding Daniel of a hound on the scent, except no hound had such a beak of a snout. My husbands cousins valet used to be in the employ of a certain Sir Neville.
Now Daniel wished hed made his escape when he could. Or that he still had a cup of punch to accidentally spill on the old harridan, sending her to the ladies retiring room before she could say another word.
Sir Neville? his mother asked, her brow wrinkled. Is he still alive? Why would anyone listen to anything that man said? His brain was corrupt, when he still had the use of it.
Lord Morgan, bless him, added, Dont see why anyone would hire his valet, anyway. Fellow might be as diseased as his master.
The duchess waved her fat, jeweled fingers, brushing both of their interruptions aside. Haighs cousin thought Miss Abbotts name sounded familiar when he looked over the guest list.
Of course it is familiar, Lady Cora acknowledged. Squire Abbott used to be a member of the Commons from our borough.
Argued with his own party, he did, Lord Morgan said. Neither the Whigs nor the Tories wanted him on their side of the aisle.
I am not speaking politics, sir. Nor, the duchess made clear by turning her back, was she speaking to an asthmatic old sot. Miss Abbotts name came up in reference to an unfortunate incident several years ago, Lady Cora, before Sir Neville was, ah, incapacitated.
Locked up, I heard, for going at his physician with a meat cleaver, Lord Chadwick muttered, drawing the duchesss wrath at yet another interruption to her inquisition. Chadwick stepped back, but not out of hearing. He was too interested in listening to disclosures about Miss Abbotts past.
Yes? Lady Cora asked in calm, almost bored tones. Only Daniel noticed her fan waving faster. What unfortunate incident might that be?
One that, if true, proves your protégée not the type of female who should be mixing with genteel company.
My goddaughter is everything admirable.
Chadwick agreed, but not nearly as vehemently as he might have moments ago.
Are the stories true? Her Grace demanded. She had other ladies to browbeat, other young misses to bring to tears, other miscreants to cast out of her house.
I told you, Lord Morgan whispered to Daniel, but not low enough for the others to miss. Everyone will recall sooner or later that Abbott tried to marry his daughter off to that pox-ridden reprobate.
Oh, Lady Cora said. That story. Yes, it is regrettably true. I am certain Squire Abbott no longer holds the misguided notion that his daughter is no different from one of his prize sows, to be offered to the highest bidder.
Not that story. The duchess curled her lip and sniffed again, both. Shed seen her own daughters wed advantageously, if not with affection. Such alliances are commonplace. I do not hold with this modern method of letting a silly goose, that is, a school-yard miss, choose her own mate, no more than Haigh would let his milk cows select the bull to She looked at Susanna, who had edged closer so as not to miss a single word.
But that is not for polite company, either. No, Haighs cousin mentioned to meand to a few close friends, I suppose, as the valet might have done, alsothat Miss Abbott ran off rather than wed the old goat, that is, Sir Neville. If so, Miss Corisande Abbott is no better than she ought to be.
