Miss Delacourt Has Her Day (6 page)

The Radcliff rout was a sight better than the Worthingtons’ hot and hasty affair, but only because Anthony thought he caught a glimpse of the back of Ginny’s head as she scurried through the crush of people intent on bowing and scraping to the Marquis of Radcliff and his marchioness. How could he have ever enjoyed such affairs designed for nothing better than to see and be seen? And why hadn’t Grandmama had the grace to share with him which party she would be attending tonight rather than listing them all? Surely she didn’t mean to drag poor Ginny to all three. But if not, which ones? There was nothing for it but to hasten through the routs and hope he would be in the Hadleys’ home long enough to at least encounter Ginny. He would much rather dance with her, truth be told, but he would take anything, must have something, even if just an eyeful, to get him through the night. To his chagrin, a perhapsyes, perhaps-no viewing of the back of her head did nothing to quench his thirst for the sight of her.

Pushing through the throng, sidestepping a fallen glass of port here and a wad of wayward snuff there, he raced through the house and to the stairs in record time. Never mind that he had practically snubbed the marquis and his lady wife once he found himself close enough to greet them. They would no doubt take it to be on account of his suddenly heightened status. Hadn’t the vile Thomas Barron looked down his lofty nose at the world when he unexpectedly became Marquis of Radcliff, and for less reason? In the case of the future Duke of Marcross, only love would be allowed to break down the door of what he deemed polite, and he feared love was on its way to a rout he had already attended.

Racing out into the street, he barked his name to the porter and scanned the crowds waiting for their carriages as well as those being disgorged from theirs. It was utter confusion and madness, but one person seemed to notice none of it as she moved toward him with single-minded purpose. Lady Derby.

Was it merely his imagination, or were the crowds, like the Red Sea, parting in anticipation of her passage directly to where he stood? And were the guests all watching him, their faces the very picture of so many gasping fish that find they have suddenly landed on dry ground? Anthony knew he would be waiting an eternity for his carriage to be brought ‘round and would have no other option than to speak to her. The thought of diving into the swarms of people and pelting down the street like a bedlamite occurred to him, but Rebecca was upon him before he had a chance to so much as turn his head.

“Why, Tony!” Lady Derby purred, slipping her arm through his and tucking it against her side. “I had thought you would be with that child bride of yours”

“She is not my bride. That is to say, she is not a child.” Drat his mother, for surely it was she who had so fully informed Lady Derby of what his uncle insisted be a secret. He hadn’t the chance to talk with Ginny about delaying the announcement in the papers for a few more days until he could think of a way to make everyone happy about his decision to wed, but it was a small problem compared to Lady Derby’s skill in twisting everything, including his tongue, into knots.

“What she is, is not here,” Lady Derby said with a wideeyed look that took in the persons standing near and far. “Did her governess not think it prudent to let her out tonight?” she asked, biting her lip in feigned woe.

“Lady Derby, need I remind you that when you received your first offer of marriage, you were still in short skirts?”

“Oh, Tony, you remembered!” she said, rapping him on the arm with her fan. “It seems you had a penchant for young maidens even then”

Fiend seize her, she had made his reprimand sound like flirtation! “And how could you forget,” he said as loudly as he dared for the benefit of the madding crowd, “that your first offer of marriage was from Thomas, Lord Radcliff?” He added for her ears only, “Hadn’t you better hurry inside? The marchioness is looking a bit bilious. You never know when her husband’s offer of marriage to you might be renewed.” And with a bow that required she let go of his arm, he stepped between two waiting carriages and melted into the night.

Running up the street, he happily came across his own carriage and jumped inside. With any luck, he would be to the soiree before Ginny had left or, better yet, before she arrived. He would need a moment to find a mirror and repair his appearance. Quickly, he straightened his cuffs and smoothed his dark locks with the little silver comb he carried in his pocket. His cravat, however, would have to wait until he could see what he was doing. He did not, to his sorrow, have his valet’s gift for tying one, but allowing Conti to trot along behind him as he went from one entertainment to the next would only make Anthony an object of fun.

Anthony could see that the Hadleys’ soiree was in full swing when he arrived. After checking his cravat in the hall mirror, he scanned the room for Ginny. Mrs. Hadley, Grandmama’s bosom friend since childhood, had not attracted the title and monies her ancestry warranted. As a result, the house was small and lacked a ballroom. Furniture in the main sitting room had been pushed aside and the carpets rolled up to allow for the dancing, lending the proceedings an exceptionally cozy feel. The atmosphere was such that a few quiet minutes alone with Ginny in a corner somewhere would not seem overly amiss. He knew he should discuss the subject of his conversation with his uncle, but above all else he wished to hear her thoughts and feelings with regard to his poem. It looked, however, as if he would have to wait, as Ginny was neither among the dancers nor any of the observers.

He wandered into the dining room, where platters of food and drink had been laid out for supper, but she was absent from there, as well. He knew he had a better chance of locating his grandmama despite her lack of height, so voluminous became her voice after a few cordials of canary, but he heard nothing that would lead him to believe she and Ginny had arrived.

“Oh, Lord Crenshaw!” came a voice at his shoulder. “Might I trouble you for a moment?”

Anthony turned around and came face to face with Mrs. Hadley. He had forgotten she was so tall that one was tempted to measure her years in inches-a sad fact that no doubt contributed to her status as a mere Mrs., her father, the viscount, and large dowry notwithstanding. One did hope for tall sons but doubtless wished for a more abbreviated wife to get them by.

“Mrs. Hadley, how grateful I am to have received an invitation. It has been too long since I have been within the portals of your lovely home”

Mrs. Hadley let forth a string of titters. Anthony had long suspected the gruesome noises to be laughter, but he could never be quite sure, as they punctuated every utterance from him or any other, no matter the subject or degree of levity. Doubtless this had been another blow against her chances of making a fine match.

“Lord Crenshaw, how sad we were to learn of your cousin’s death! I see you wear your black armband,” she remarked.

It was the only condolence followed by hysterical laughter he had ever received. The utter ridiculousness of the situation almost undid him, but he quickly sobered when Mrs. Hadley drew a nearby girl to her side with an arm about her waist. She was of a height with Mrs. Hadley and was surely some variety of relative. Just which variation, he was sure to learn.

“In light of your renewed status, you must be on a sharp lookout for a bride. Oh, and look whom I have here! This is my lovely granddaughter,” Mrs. Hadley said, upon which both she and her youthful doppelganger burst into a series of titters and strangled guffaws.

Anthony wondered how his grandmama had put herself through the agony of developing such a long-lasting attachment with Mrs. Hadley. Worse, he began to suspect he was expected to make a similar one with her granddaughter. With the studied grace of years of practice he refrained from sighing aloud. “Might I have the pleasure of being introduced?”

“But of course, my lord, of course! May I introduce Miss Burton, Hepzibah, better known as Kazzy? So daft how these names go, is it not? Hepzibah, Heppy, Hezzy, Kezzy, Kazzy! One never knows what someone might end up being called, do they?”

“No, indeed,” Anthony replied, and this time he allowed himself a sigh, as it would surely go unheard and unnoticed in the gale of titters that followed. With an inward wince, he resigned himself to the fate of an eligible lord of nobility, one bound to be replete with doting mothers and grandmothers wishful to force the acquaintance of their kin upon his person. It was an unenviable state but one he hoped to endure until his attachment to Ginny would become public knowledge. Until then he knew he could not do his hostess the dishonor of refusing to dance with any number of eligible young ladies in attendance.

“Miss Burton, might I have the honor for the next set?”

He took the inevitable gasps and titters to be a “yes” and, taking her by the hand, led her back into the parlor.

The moment he stepped foot into the room, his head turned, almost of its own accord, to a far corner. There stood Ginny in a white gown, looking just as he had pictured her on their wedding day. When her gaze met his, and that slow blush he so adored stole along her cheeks, he felt as if the wind had been knocked out if him. Gad, she was beautiful! He wanted nothing more than to go to her, but he had a duty to perform, and he was being tugged out into the dancing. It wasn’t until he turned to face his partner that he learned that the one now holding his hand was none other than Lady Derby.

From her place in the corner, Ginny watched the proceedings with interest. “Why, that woman pushed aside that poor girl!” she gasped. “I believe she is crying!”

“No, it is but laughter,” Grandaunt said with a grimace. `But that is neither here nor there. Kazzy is kin to my dear Mrs. Hadley, and `that woman’ is none other than Lady Derby. She was never one to sit by and watch while others, er, danced” She pursed her lips in a show of disapproval. “I wonder what she has planned for my grandson and how very put out she will be once she gets a glimpse of you”

Ginny felt a rush of affection for her grandaunt but could not agree. “I can only assume she will find me no threat whatsoever.” She regarded Lady Derby closely. With her thick hair arranged in a wondrously intricate style atop her head, her dark, flashing eyes, her flawless skin and pleasingly curved figure, she was easily the most beautiful woman in the room. Her title and fortune were more closely aligned with Anthony’s than those of any other woman in the room, as well.

Ginny narrowed her gaze at Anthony and Lady Derby as they danced and conversed and even smiled into each other’s eyes, then turned to her grandaunt. “I think I shall go look for something to drink in the supper room” She sailed away without another glance but knew Anthony watched her go. She could feel his gaze hot on her back and suspected Lady Derby might be as interested in every detail of her person as Ginny was in hers.

She raised her chin just a fraction. After all, a duchess did not let her knees go out from under her when faced with the mere hint of trouble. Nevertheless, she found a chair to sink into the moment she was beyond Lady Derby’s scope and burst into tears. She was grateful Grandaunt had stayed behind and would never know how she fell so completely to pieces. It would not do for anyone to see her otherwise but in total possession of her emotions. A duchess did not cry in public. Perhaps not even in private. She tried to imagine her grandaunt undone by tears and could not.

The clapping and stamping of the contra dance going on in the next room came to a halt before Ginny could stem the flow of tears. She had just stood and stepped to the sideboard to ladle out a cup of punch when she heard a much-loved voice from the doorway.

“Allow me,” Anthony said. Before she could utter a word, he had stepped to her side, poured the punch, taken her hand in his, and placed the cup gently in her grasp. “I am told the next set is to be a waltz, and I have it on very good authority you are a dab hand at waltzing. Will you so honor me, Miss Delacourt?”

Ginny felt the blush rise in her face and hastily looked around the room to determine if any of the people milling about had noticed their exchange. She knew their betrothal had not yet been announced, even if she did not know the reason why, and she felt the importance of being discreet. However, there could be nothing exceptionable with regard to their dancing together. It was why she had come.

“My lord, I should be delighted.” Abandoning the cup of punch after only one sip, she put her hand in his and allowed herself to be led to the queue of couples lining up to dance. She tried not to think of how she would be thoroughly inspected in just the same way she had Lady Derby-indeed, the way every woman Anthony partnered that night would be-but it was to no avail. Her mouth went suddenly dry, and her legs once again threatened to give out beneath her.

“Come, Miss Delacourt,” Anthony said. “I’m not going to eat you!” Then, soft and low, so no one but she could hear, he added, “I must confess, when I saw you first tonight, it was all I could do to keep from rushing to your side and soundly kissing you”

“Anthony!” she hissed. “Have a care. Everyone will see my blushes and wonder what you are saying to cause them”