by Anna Bradley
Chapter Twelve
The Third Ball
Lord and Lady Hayhurst
Request Miss Hyacinth Somerset’s company
At a pleasure ball on Tuesday, February 10th
At 7:00 o’clock in the evening
33 Charles Street
Berkeley Square
“It’s insupportable you shouldn’t have danced at all tonight, Hyacinth. Every single gentleman in this ballroom should be horsewhipped.”
Isla flopped onto one of the tiny gilt chairs lined up on the side of the Hayhursts’ ballroom, but jumped up again at once, and turned around to glare at it. “My goodness. That’s the most uncomfortable chair I’ve ever sat on.”
Hyacinth sighed. It was even more uncomfortable if you’d been sitting on it all night, as she had. “Perhaps the chairs are Lady Hayhurst’s way of encouraging the young ladies to dance.”
Isla snorted. “Or to punish them for being wallflowers.”
Hyacinth glanced down the long row of chairs lined up along the wall, many of which held a glum-looking young lady. “One would think being a wallflower would be punishment enough. I don’t think any of us would choose to be here if we could help it.”
Isla plopped back down into the chair with a long sigh of her own. “No, I suppose not. These English gentlemen are easily intimidated, aren’t they? Why, if we were in Scotland, you wouldn’t be permitted to sit out a single dance, no matter what scandal followed you.”
That the scandal was following Hyacinth was now beyond question. If she’d held out any hope Lady Bagshot’s ball was an aberration, it was dashed the moment she set foot in Lord Hayhurst’s ballroom this evening. Aside from the sneers and whispers, the ton had made a great show of ignoring her.
But then someone must be punished for the scandal, mustn’t they? One couldn’t simply go about accusing innocent gentlemen of murder and face no consequences for it. Wasn’t there something, well…unseemly about that youngest Somerset girl’s hysterical swoon?
No, it simply wouldn’t do.
The ton was obliged to take someone to task for the debacle. It stood to reason it would be the Somerset chit. If Lord Huntington and Lord Dare weren’t in London to witness the girl’s disgrace, so much the better. One didn’t like to make an enemy of them—if one could avoid it—but the way was conveniently clear in that regard.
Hyacinth was still invited everywhere, but once she arrived, she was roundly shunned. Not just by Lady Joanna and her set, but by all of London.
She’d been a fool not to have seen at once how it would be. After all, all the signs were there. No one had spoken a word to her at Lady Lovell’s musical evening two nights ago, and she hadn’t been invited to play at bowls or shuttlecock with all the other young people at Lady Otis’s picnic yesterday.
It wasn’t until tonight, however, that she’d been made aware of the extent of her punishment.
Fully, painfully aware.
It might have been bearable if everyone had simply dismissed her, but she wasn’t even permitted to suffer her disgrace in private. Her skin was crawling from all the cold stares aimed in her direction, and her ears burning from the scathing comments whispered behind her back.
She was both spurned and notorious at once. It was her worst nightmare.
“Now the Scottish lads,” Isla was saying. “They know a worthy lass when they see one, but this lot.” She waved a disdainful hand toward the dance floor. “Honestly, they only need the white woolly bits to be mistaken for a herd of sheep.”
Both Isla and Hyacinth burst into a fit of giggles. It was the first time Hyacinth had laughed all night.
Thank goodness for Isla.
It would have been easy enough for all of the Ramseys to forget her entirely. She was isolated in a lonely corner of the ballroom with all the other wallflowers and spinsters, whereas they were welcome in Lady Joanna’s much livelier crowd of fashionable young people on the other side of the room, closer to the dancing.
Much to Lady Joanna’s dismay, Ciaran didn’t seem at all interested in being fashionable. He’d spent most of his evening wandering from one tiny gilt chair to the next, and leading each neglected young lady to the center of the ballroom for a dance. When he wasn’t dancing, he chatted and laughed with these forgotten ladies, and made himself so charming and agreeable he was earning a heroic reputation among London’s wallflowers.
All three of the Ramseys had been unfailingly loyal to Hyacinth. Isla popped in every chance she could to entertain her with some amusing nonsense or other, and Lachlan prowled about like an overprotective bear, turning that black scowl of his on anyone who dared glance twice at her.
She’d danced twice with him this evening.
Of course, he’d also danced twice with Lady Joanna.
Not that Hyacinth was keeping track of his dances. Because she wasn’t. Lachlan could do as he pleased, and after all, it was hardly a surprise he admired Lady Joanna. She was beautiful and clever and audacious—just the sort of lady a vigorous man like Lachlan should admire.
The fact that she was also a poisonous viper was neither here nor there—
“Of course, there are worse things than being a wallflower,” Isla murmured, with a quick glance at Lady Chase to make certain she wasn’t overheard. Lady Chase was on Hyacinth’s other side, well within eavesdropping distance, but she was busy chatting with Lady Atherton. “Much worse things,” Isla added, with a meaningful raise of her eyebrows.
“What sorts of things?” What could be worse than being a wallflower and a scandal at once?
Isla lowered her voice. “Well, for instance, I’d prefer an entire evening of being perched on this unfortunate chair to another dance with Lord Clement.”
“Oh? What’s wrong with Lord Clement?”
“He condescends to the ladies, and he has no conversation that doesn’t involve either his matched set of grays or his phaeton. He’s also wearing a canary yellow waistcoat this evening. Didn’t you notice it?”
“Well, yes.” There was no overlooking that waistcoat. “But surely he’s not as bad as all that?”
“He is as bad. He’s a fop and a dandy, but without the wit. He nearly fell into a faint when Ciaran mentioned the bloody nose Lachlan gave him. Now, I’ll grant you Ciaran and Lachlan discuss bloody noses far too often, but what sort of man faints at the mere mention of blood?”
Hyacinth choked back a laugh. Oh, dear. Poor Lord Clement. “Not the sort of man who’d suit you, I daresay, but my goodness, Isla. I never would have guessed you weren’t enthralled with him. The smiles, and the laughing and flirting your fan—that’s all feigned?”
“I’m afraid so. Now, before you think me very wicked, I can assure you Lord Clement doesn’t give a fig about me. He wants Lady Joanna, and pays attention to me only to irk her. Not that it does the least bit of good, because Lady Joanna is too busy flirting with Lachlan to even notice Lord Clement.”
Hyacinth thought of Lady Joanna’s laughing red mouth, and her stomach tied itself into a tight knot. “D-does Lachlan flirt back?”
“No. He scowls darkly at her, just like he does everyone else. I adore Lachlan, but he’s not charming, you know. But then that’s what Lady Joanna likes about him.”
“I—what do you mean? Why should Lady Joanna like to be scowled at?” Hyacinth preferred his smiles to this scowls, though he’d been so distant with her since their kiss, at this point she’d take either.
“She likes him because he’s enormous, and dark and rough and scowlish, and—”
“Scowlish? Is that a word?”
“Not a real one.” Isla shot her a mischievous smile. “Ciaran and I made it up years ago, just for Lachlan. It comes in quite handy. Anyway, Lachlan’s scowlish, and he doesn’t have the least interest in impressing Lady Joanna. That’s why she likes him. Well, that and because he’s brother to a wealthy m
arquess.”
Hyacinth managed to hold her tongue, but she was quite indignant on Lachlan’s behalf. He was dark and rough, and perhaps he was even scowlish, but there was far more to Lachlan Ramsey than that. If Lady Joanna couldn’t see it, then she didn’t deserve his scowls, or his smiles.
“Does…do you suppose Lachlan cares for Lady Joanna?” Hyacinth asked, her heart pounding painfully in her chest.
Isla shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s difficult to tell with Lachlan, but something is certainly distracting him.”
Hyacinth’s heart sank. Lady Joanna was what was distracting him. What else could it be?
Isla dragged her chair closer to Hyacinth’s. “Otherwise he’d have noticed at once how shamelessly Lord Sydney’s been flirting with me. But for the moment it suits me for Lachlan to remain distracted.”
Hyacinth didn’t want to hear anything more about Lachlan and Lady Joanna, and she leapt at the chance to change the subject. “Why, are you flirting back? I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I’ve always liked Lord Sydney. He’s very handsome and gentlemanly without being dull.”
“Oh my, yes. Lord Sydney is lovely, and great fun, too. I like him very much, but there is another gentleman…”
“Indeed?” Hyacinth tilted her head closer to Isla’s. “Who?”
A becoming flush rose in Isla’s cheeks. “Lord Pierce. I don’t know him well,” she rushed on, before Hyacinth could interrupt. “He’s not one of Lady Joanna’s set—though not from lack of effort on her part—but he’s friends with one or two of the gentlemen who are, so he comes over now and again. He’s quite…arresting, isn’t he?”
Arresting. Yes, that was a good word for Lord Pierce. He was a marquess, for one, which was quite good enough for the ton to approve of him, but he also happened to be very tall, very broad-shouldered, and very handsome. More than one young lady in the Hayhursts ballroom tonight was angling for his attention.
“He is, yes, but he’s so…” Hyacinth hesitated.
“What? Do you know something to his discredit?” Isla clutched at Hyacinth’s hand with such sudden energy, Hyacinth had to wonder if her friend found Lord Pierce a great deal more than just arresting.
“No, not at all. Quite the opposite. He’s a well-respected, honorable gentleman. It’s only that he’s a bit…stern? No, that’s not quite right, but he’s very serious, and a trifle forbidding. Perhaps he should smile more.”
Then again, Lachlan rarely smiled, and it hadn’t done much to deter her, had it? It only made his smiles more precious, and made her more determined to coax them loose.
“Oh, I don’t know. I like his stern countenance. He has the most deliciously firm lips. They’re shown to best advantage when he doesn’t smile.”
“Isla!” Hyacinth laughed. “My goodness. Don’t say you stare at his lips!”
“I do indeed, and since he disapproves of me and never smiles at me, I’ve had quite a lot of time to study his frowns. I’ve decided they suit him.”
“Why should he disapprove of you?” Hyacinth asked, with a touch of pique. No one was lovelier than Isla.
“Well, it’s rather foolish, really, but we had a bit of an argument about propriety at Lady Bagshot’s ball the other night. Miss Tilbury said something about ladies not being permitted to walk or drive down St. James’s Street. I said I thought it an absurd rule, and so it is, Hyacinth. I don’t see why the ladies’ freedom should be curtailed because the gentlemen drink too much at White’s, and then loll about in the bow window, gawking at passersby, and forgetting their manners. Anyway, Lord Piece gave me quite a lecture over it.”
“I wish I’d heard that conversation. Lord Pierce is very proper. What did he say?”
“Oh, some tripe about it being for the ladies’ own good, but I don’t believe that’s the real reason. I think it’s so the gentlemen can behave as badly as they like, without anyone about to take them to task for it. I didn’t hesitate to say so, and I’m afraid I was a bit, ah…lively with him, but I do so hate to be lectured, and I particularly hate being told things are being done for my own good.”
“I wonder you came away from this discussion with a liking for Lord Pierce.” Hyacinth gave her a teasing smile. “I would have thought it would be just the opposite.”
Isla grinned back. “Not at all. I was so tremendously relieved to find an Englishman who wasn’t a biddable sheep like all the others, I found myself quite taken with Lord Pierce. He’s dreadfully stiff and correct, but I fancy there’s some unruliness lurking under his lordship’s propriety.”
If Lord Pierce had an unruly side, Hyacinth had never seen it, but she kept this observation to herself. “It’s a pity Finn isn’t here. Lord Pierce owns the neighboring estate to Huntington Lodge, and Finn knows him rather well, I believe.”
“Yes, that would have been helpful, but for the moment I’ll go on as I have been, poking at Lord Pierce every now and again.” Isla gave Hyacinth a cheeky wink, then rose from her chair. “I’d quite like to see what’s under there.”
Hyacinth laughed. “And what of Lord Clement? What if he falls in love with you, and asks Lachlan for your hand, and Lachlan commands you to marry him?”
The hem of Isla’s gown swept dramatically over the floor as she turned around to face Hyacinth, a grin on her lips. “I’m afraid I’ve never been very good at doing what I’m told.”
* * * *
The darker Lachlan’s scowl became, the more Lady Joanna seemed to admire him.
Foolish chit.
“Tell me more about your life in Scotland, Mr. Ramsey. Do the women really drink whiskey, and the men carry swords everywhere? Is it true the entire country is overrun with sheep?”
The ladies and gentlemen surrounding Lady Joanna tittered, but Lachlan was occupied with looking over her shoulder at Hyacinth, and he ignored Lady Joanna entirely.
That lady wasn’t accustomed to being ignored, and she stepped several inches to the right, so her face was directly in Lachlan’s sight line. “But you don’t seem amused, Mr. Ramsey. I’m afraid you’re distracted this evening.” She flicked a glance over her shoulder. “Oh, dear. It’s poor Miss Somerset, isn’t it?”
Another titter went around the group at Hyacinth’s name, and Lady Joanna’s malicious smile widened.
Lachlan gave her a bored look. “Miss Somerset looks happy enough to me. She doesn’t need or want your pity, Lady Joanna.”
“How silly you are, Mr. Ramsey.” Lady Joanna let out a tinkling laugh, but her dark eyes narrowed. “No young lady who’s obliged to spend an entire ball watching other young ladies dance while she herself is ignored can possibly be happy.”
Ignored? If only that were the case. Every aristocrat in this bloody ballroom had spent the entire evening gawking at her. The gossip had reached such a fever pitch Lachlan had even considered taking her into Lord Hayhurst’s library himself. At least then she’d be shielded from vultures like Lady Joanna.
“Poor thing. Such a sad state of affairs.” Lady Joanna shook her head in mock sympathy, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “There must be something we can do to assist her. Don’t you agree, Miss Tilbury?”
Miss Tilbury, who always agreed with Lady Joanna, no matter what nonsense she spouted, gave the required answer. “Oh, yes! Of course. But what?”
“Hmmm.” Lady Joanna tapped her fan against her lips. “Well, it’s rather difficult, given Miss Somerset’s pitiable situation, but there must be something…oh, I have it! Lord Chester, why don’t you invite Miss Somerset to dance?”
“Yes, you must, my lord!” Miss Tilbury looked as if she were trying to smother a sudden burst of laughter. “What a wonderful idea. I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before.”
A suspicious frown creased Lachlan’s brow as he turned to the young man in question. Lady Joanna and Miss Tilbury looked far too delighted for Lachlan to be easy about this
suggestion, but he couldn’t find any reasonable objection to Lord Chester. He was younger than the other gentlemen, and hung about on the fringes of Lady Joanna’s set. God knew the boy was awkward and bumbling, but he seemed decent enough.
“I, ah, well, I’m certain Miss Somerset wouldn’t care to dance with me.” The young man’s face had gone scarlet, and he plucked nervously at his cravat. “I’m not a very accomplished—”
“Why, what nonsense! Of course she’ll dance with you.” Lady Joanna gave Lord Chester a little push forward. “She’s hardly danced all night, and is in no position to refuse you. Indeed, my lord, you’d be doing her a kindness.”
“Well, of course I’d be delighted to dance with Miss Somerset, if you think it a good idea.” Lord Chester bowed to Lady Joanna, but his face was pinched with worry. “If she agrees, that is.”
“Oh, she will.” Lady Joanna gave him another shove, her eyes gleaming. “Go on, then.”
Lachlan watched the lad make his way across the ballroom and bow to Hyacinth. Damn it, he didn’t like this. Lady Joanna was far too gleeful, but short of tackling Lord Chester to the floor, there wasn’t much he could do to stop it.
From across the ballroom Lachlan saw Hyacinth nod her head, and the red-faced young lord took her arm and led her to the center of the ballroom.
“Will you dance, Miss Taylor?” Lachlan hastily turned toward the least objectionable of Lady Joanna’s friends, and offered her his arm. He didn’t have any interest in dancing with her, but he hadn’t liked the look on Lady Joanna’s face just now. If she intended to cause Hyacinth some mischief, he wanted to be nearby to put a stop to it.
Miss Taylor simpered her agreement and took his arm, and Lachlan led her out to the floor. They took up positions behind Miss Tilbury and her partner, who were placed just behind Lady Joanna and Lord Sydney, who were at the top of the set. Hyacinth and Lord Chester were several places below him.
Lady Joanna called a country dance, the music swelled, and Lord Sydney led Lady Joanna in a series of lively steps down the long line of couples. When Miss Tilbury and her partner went down the line, Lachlan could see that lady’s face was alight with spiteful anticipation, but he still didn’t see anything amiss. It appeared to be a typical country dance.
