Miss Delacourt Has Her Day (12 page)

She took a deep breath and looked a question at Anthony. There was thunder in his eyes, and he gripped his spoon with a heretofore-unknown savage intensity that, sadly, did nothing toward offering her a clue as to what he would have her say.

“Come, Miss Delacourt, surely you dance better than you converse?” Mr. Simmons asked with a harsh laugh.

Willing herself not to blush, Ginny hastened to reply. “I acquit myself well enough, but no doubt my skill, or, perhaps, lack thereof, has created a bit of a stir now and again.” She thought her answer the best of both worlds-not too pretentious or self-abasing, as either could invite scorn. She was disabused of this notion when Lady Derby went into gales of laughter, drawing the attention of the whole table, even Lucinda’s, who had heretofore been wholly engrossed in flirting shamelessly with her own husband.

Noting the expressions of dismay on nearly every face, Ginny suddenly remembered what she had forcibly pushed from her mind-the altercation on the dance floor at Lady Hadley’s only the night before. None of it had been any fault of hers, and though Anthony blamed her naught, she couldn’t help but feel she was being made an object of fun in his place.

Ginny imagined this was but a taste of what life with a country wife would fully contain. No one would dare insult Anthony outright, but she feared the jibes, the veiled contempt, the mild but insolent remarks would follow him wherever he went. Could a man who had so recently chosen love over the approval of Society bear the brunt of such treatment?

She met his eyes across the table and read the answer there; he would bear it only as far as she and not one whit further. She smiled in relief at his generosity and was rewarded with a smile of such tenderness, she thought she might weep. It gave her the strength to endure whatever Lady Derby and her ilk had in store, and she had begun to think on an appropriate reply, when, with a loud scraping of chair legs against the marble floor, Anthony rose to his feet.

“Grandmama, Miss Delacourt, I believe we are expected elsewhere.”

“Anthony, what is this?” the dowager duchess demanded.

“I believe we have outstayed our welcome, Grandmama. It is time we were off to our next obligation.”

There came more scraping of chairs as Lady Crenshaw sprang to her feet, followed by the remaining men at table. “Anthony, what can you be thinking? Do sit down and enjoy the rest of your dinner!”

“I am afraid I cannot. The food is excellent, as always, but I cannot say the same for some of the company,” he said with a challenging glare for Mr. Simmons, whose gaze was still hovering in the vicinity of Ginny’s decolletage and so did not benefit from it.

Ginny noted that Lady Derby had the grace to look affronted, but it was Lucinda who jumped to her feet. “How dare you?” she cried. “How could you say such a thing to me after all we have meant to each other?”

“I second that allegation!” Lord Avery cried. “Er, that is to say, if someone were to challenge you to a duel, I would happily act as second!”

At those words, Anthony let go of all semblance of composure. “This is all that was wanted,” he mumbled into the palm he scraped across his face. “Lady Avery, if, by your words, you allude to a sham engagement that lasted for all of two days, I must remind you that what we had did not amount to two sticks to rub together.”

There was a loud gasp from a number of people at table.

“Anthony, you never told me you were betrothed to Lady Avery!” Lady Crenshaw cried.

At the same moment, Lord Avery was issuing his own instructions. “Come, my flower,” he said as he took Lucinda by the elbow. “We know when we are not wanted”

“No, Eustace! I wish to stay,” Lucinda said with a stamp of her foot that betrayed her penchant for making herself the center of attention.

“But, my darling,” Lord Avery crooned, “how can we countenance such a slight? It is above all things fortuitous that I am already due to duel the man. All that is wanted is to round up a second, and the deed is done.”

“A duel?” Lady Crenshaw cried in unison with Ginny, who sprang to her feet to join the majority of dinner guests already standing. Sadly, the footman hovering at her back with the intention of serving up the next course did not anticipate such a flurry of activity and was forced to jump back with a yowl. Anthony collapsed into his chair with a groan just as the dish the footman had been holding crashed to the ground, leaving the calf-foot’s jelly to quiver en masse on the floor.

Heart pounding, Ginny dared to meet the gaze of all assembled. Lucinda feigned ignorance, turning her exquisitely pointed chin in the air, while Lord Avery’s chin quivered along with the jelly. Doubtless, it was his favorite dish. Mr. Graham looked studiously in the other direction and utterly missed the fact that Lord Everston was seen to lick his lips. Lady Crenshaw, her eyes agog and mouth agape, clutched a napkin to her chest while emitting a silent scream. Mr. Simmons and Lady Derby, the few guests who remained seated, were at pains to hide their mirth. As for Anthony, well, she dared not look at him.

Just as she summoned the courage to determine her grandaunt’s reaction, the old dame pushed back her chair with a long, lingering scrape of wood on marble, the footman who stood behind her being too stunned to do his duty in aiding her.

“Deborah, I thank you for your hospitality,” she said with a perfectly regal air. “However, I believe my grandson was quite correct in that we are expected elsewhere.”

“Your grandson?” Lady Crenshaw shrieked. “I will remind you that he is my son! I won’t have him abandoning me in the midst of my social function!” She turned to pin a demanding glare on her son, who appeared to be at great ease, his hands relaxed on the arms of the chair and his impassive gaze fastened to the bucolic painting of sheep grazing in a field hanging on the wall just beyond Ginny’s head.

Ginny thought he took a good deal of time in formulating his reply but owned she could not blame him. She wished, ardently, that she could snap her fingers and disappear, but the chaos left in her wake would doubtless remain, a thought she could not tolerate. Looking once again to her betrothed for guidance and gaining none, she did the only thing she could; she took up her napkin and bent to the floor to begin work on the closest mess at hand.

“No!” Anthony shouted, jumping to his feet with a violence that sent footmen all over the room recoiling in alarm. “A duchess does not scrub floors, Miss Delacourt!”

Ginny, stung to the quick, rose on her heels and came faceto-face with Anthony as he bent over the table and braced himself with his bruised hands splayed against the white tablecloth, his head nearly level with the wine goblets. His face, however near, was as inscrutable as ever.

“Ginny,” he said, as if she were the only other person in the room, “it was in my mind to say that the only opinion that mattered to me was yours”

“And mine!” Lucinda interjected with a pout.

He continued speaking without giving Lucinda so much as a glance, but his jaw tightened, and a vein at his temple began to throb. “That by your word we would stay put or quit this house. However, I find I cannot honor your request if you should wish to remain. I must insist that you come away with me this moment.”

Ginny, deciding it more suitable to tend her wounded heart at a later time, made her decision. She wasted no time in dropping the napkin in favor of the hand he lent to her aid and rose gracefully to her feet. “Lady Crenshaw,” she said with a little bow, “I am most grateful for your abundant hospitality.”

Without adding his words of gratitude to Ginny’s, Anthony stalked over to retrieve his grandmother, then returned to Ginny’s side to draw her hand through his free arm.

Lady Crenshaw gasped. “Anthony, truly, you do not mean to leave? Why, I have not yet served the main course!”

“Then I suggest you do so before it grows cold,” Anthony replied in a voice no more than tepid.

Lady Crenshaw turned her indignant gaze on Ginny. “If you think I should deign to so much as broach your name to any of the patronesses of Almack’s,” she said in a voice of awful finality, “you are more a fool than I surmised!”

It was in awful silence that they turned to quit the room, though Ginny was startled to see the wry smile that puckered Anthony’s lips at his mother’s revealing pronouncement. She was, however, utterly confounded by the way he tucked his head between his shoulders-until she heard the sound of shattering glass. The knowledge that Lady Crenshaw was the sort who threw objects was sobering, indeed, and she vowed to never again throw anything for as long as she should live.

The click of the dining room door closing behind them had barely registered in Ginny’s ears when a strident voice was heard to rise above the babble of voices around the table. The voice could belong to none other than Lucinda, who was inclined to make herself the victim in every tragedy, and it was growing closer.

Anthony tightened his grip on Ginny’s arm and quickened his step just as Lucinda flung open the door. “How could you desert me, Lady Avery, a countess, to such ruthless company?” she cried.

Ginny heard a groan but couldn’t be sure if it came from Grandaunt or her grandson, who quickened his pace even further. There came the pitter-patter of dancing slippers striking the floor as Lucinda gained ground, and soon her dainty gasps of breath could be felt on Ginny’s shoulder. Lucinda scurried along just behind them in full harmony of flight as they fled down the stairs and out the front door, Lord Avery’s cries of “Where are you going, my flower?” trailing after them all the way out to the street.

Once they had gained the walkway, however, their flight petered out to a full stop. As there had not been time to request that their carriage be brought around, they were forced to wait until it appeared, Grandaunt huffing and puffing, Lucinda making indignant remarks such as “How could they!” and “Do they not know I am a countess?” as if she were the injured party in this contretemps, while Anthony paced and looked everywhere but at Ginny. This delay allowed Lord Avery all the time needed to appear at their elbows just as they were about to clamber into the carriage, his arms full of wraps, gloves, hats, and a cunningly worked silver flask Ginny had never before seen but which, unaccountably, was claimed by Grandaunt Regina.

To no one’s surprise, Lucinda swept her way into the carriage the moment the opportunity was provided, though both age and title dictated that Grandaunt should go first. With a tsk of annoyance, Anthony helped his grandmother inside and stepped up after her to steady her until seated, then put his hand out the door to assist Ginny, whom he drew in to sit by his side. This left Lord Avery with the choice of expecting the short in stature but generous in girth dowager duchess to make room for him or to take his place next to Ginny.

Ginny wasn’t sure if she should feel grateful or a bit put out when he chose to sit next to her. As it was, she was mostly breathless as she was forced to endure the carriage ride, thigh to thigh, as it were, with two handsome gentlemen of fashion. Try as she might, her mind would stray to inappropriate topics of observation, such as the difference between Lord Avery’s limbs, which she imagined to be as soft and white as his hands, the pudgy kneecaps nearly lost in the surrounding flesh, and Anthony’s long legs with their corded thighs, sculpted calves, and firm knees. What’s more, his temptingly broad shoulder was the exact height against which to rest her cheek.

“Where are we off to?” Lucinda asked. One could always leave to Lucinda the task of cutting through the thickest of silences.

“Almack’s,” Grandaunt tersely replied.

Lucinda made a small moue. “I shall enjoy it vastly, I’m sure, but I doubt Ginny can find anything in it to like.”

Lord Avery gave a sharp bark of laughter. “What, you find you cannot abide stale cake and orgeat any more than the rest of us, Miss Delacourt?”

“I suppose I shall find out,” Ginny surmised.

Lucinda furrowed her pretty brow. “I can’t see how you could possibly have a chance to taste either.”

Anthony placed his hand over Ginny’s, the one clutching the edge of the leather seat between them, as a means to limit the unintentional brushing of her leg against his. “By that if you mean to suggest that Ginny shall be so occupied with dancing that-“

Ginny was never to learn his objection to the idea of her dancing so often and long that no food or drink would have the chance to pass her lips, for Grandaunt, who had returned to her usual poised and regal self, cut in with her own pronouncement.

“Lady Avery makes a point. It seems that, despite our hostess’ promise, she failed to secure a voucher for Ginny, making entrance to the building and thereby the cake, orgeat, and the dancing,” she added with a nod for her grandson, “ultimately denied.”

Ginny felt awash with shame. “I realize I don’t always do and say what I ought, but I have been trying, so very hard, to be pleasing to everyone” She turned to Anthony and beseeched him with her eyes, but he did not avail her of his expression. She felt it to be another small blow to her heart in an evening full of them. Blinking back tears, she asked, “Have I, even then, been found so lacking?”

“It is not the patronesses who have found you lacking,” he said, his voice choked with anger, “but my own mother who has failed to petition them on your behalf. I suspected her treachery when I learned with whom she had invited us to dine tonight.”

Finally he turned to Ginny, but it was too dark to read the expression in his eyes. Taking her hand, he put it to his chest and, covering it with his own large and bruised version, held it tightly against his heart. “I swear to you that I knew naught of this. I would have done anything in my power to spare you every indignity you endured this evening. And in the home of my mother! It is a betrayal beyond contemplating. I, who have been toiling in the service of all that is right and proper in the eyes of Society for far too long, to have been the unwitting instrument of this so public humbling of your character is a circumstance beyond my enduring.”

His stock of words finally depleted, he plucked her hand from his heart and kissed it with such tender fervency, she felt she must forgive him every hurt she had ever sustained, tonight and beyond. This was he, the man behind the mask, the Anthony she had yearned to know and had almost begun to fear she had lost.