The Baron's Honourable Daughter

by Lynn Morris

  Valeria’s partner for the second dance was Paul Northbrooke, and it was a lively contredanse that she was enjoying immensely. Suddenly the musicians faltered, and the music petered out; the dancing hesitated and stopped; a low babble of bewilderment sounded; people looked about in confusion; and in a moment of sheer senseless panic Valeria thought, Have I done something wrong—again?

  A moment later the master of ceremonies, in a deep reverential tone, announced, “His Royal Highness, the prince regent.”

  A heavy silence fell on the room like a weight; then all that could be heard was the quiet shuffling as everyone parted to either side of the room, and the soft satiny whispers of the ladies’ dresses as they curtsied. After a suitable interval, the master of ceremonies announced, “The Right Honourable the Viscount Kincannon; Lord Stephen Tryon; Mr. Brummel.”

  Valeria was, of course, in a low royal curtsy, with head bowed, as the prince regent passed by, so she saw nothing at all of Himself, though her curiosity was so avid that she almost risked a glance up from under her lashes. But in spite of her recent forays into risky behavior, she didn’t quite have the courage for that amount of audacity. The prince regent said nothing as he passed down the long row of bowed subjects, but when he reached the end of the room, he greeted Lord and Lady Sefton warmly. Raising his rather high-pitched voice he said crisply, “Carry on, carry on.” The musicians began again, the couples resumed their positions, and as he had commanded, the dance resumed.

  Standing in the line, Valeria despaired somewhat; her back was to the side of the room where the prince had gone, and she knew that the hallway on that side led to the card room, where he likely would hurry, given his penchant for gambling. She grumbled to herself that she would probably never have the chance to set eyes upon Prinny in person.

  She was wrong.

  * * *

  As soon as Northbrooke returned Valeria to her group, Lord Stephen went to Valeria’s side. “Miss Segrave, the prince regent has expressed his desire to make your acquaintance.”

  “He has?” Valeria breathed, her eyes glowing. “Of course, I’m honored.”

  Lord Stephen offered Valeria his arm. Followed by Elyse and Reggie and Lady Hylton they obeyed the royal summons. Stephen said easily, “Your Royal Highness, it is my pleasure to present to you Miss Valeria Segrave, daughter of the late Guy, Lord Segrave. Miss Segrave, His Royal Highness the prince regent.”

  Reggie made a low bow, and the ladies did their long-lasting royal curtsies. When finally Valeria rose, she quickly studied the prince. He was undeniably handsome, though the fine features of his face were marred because he was so overweight, his cheeks and jowls were pendulous, and he had dissipation bags under his eyes. Still, his expression was very near that of his mother. He looked open, generous, good-humored. “Miss Segrave, I simply had to meet you after I heard of your clever sallies; it seems you might even match wits with Brummel. Oh, of course, you haven’t met him. Miss Segrave, Beau Brummel. Brummel, Miss Segrave.”

  Valeria curtsied to him and he gave a mocking bow, and Valeria turned back to answer the prince, as she had been directly addressed. “Your Royal Highness, I beg you will not repeat my ‘sallies,’ as you so kindly call them, for I’m afraid that Lady Hylton terms them brash imprudent insolent blatherings, and chastises me cruelly.”

  “Far be it from me to place such a lovely young lady in danger of being disciplined, for it is indeed tedious and irksome, I find,” he said.

  “Sir, I am honored to have you as my ally. Perhaps my godmother will temper her ire somewhat, with such a staunch defender at my side,” Valeria said, with daring, even outrageous familiarity.

  But then Prinny was much given to over-familiarity with his subjects, and therefore took no offense. Far from it; he beamed at Valeria, with obvious admiration. His appreciative gaze held no hint of debauchery in it, however, for his tastes ran to older, more sophisticated, worldly women. “Indeed, you must let me know if Lady Hylton is very severe with you; I’ll plead your case. By the by, next month I’m having a fête at Carlton House, and since I understand you were presented to Her Majesty this evening, I shall have your name added to the list, Miss Segrave.”

  “Thank you, sir, I shall look forward to it,” Valeria said.

  “Enchanting, quite lovely,” the prince murmured by way of dismissal, so they all made their obeisances and he led his entourage down the hall toward the card room.

  Lady Hylton had a most severe look on her face as she walked Valeria back across the ballroom; but Valeria could tell that she was amused. “So, you not only excoriated me in front of the prince regent, you bamboozled him into joining in. I congratulate you, Valeria; that was the fastest, neatest bit of royal manipulation I’ve ever witnessed.”

  “I assure you it was not intentional, ma’am. I was so jittery that I could barely tell what was coming out of my mouth.”

  “That seems to happen to you quite often, my dear.”

  The night went on in a sort of ecstatic haze for Valeria. The Queen had been kind to her, the prince regent had shown her particular favor, even Lord Hylton had been cordial and warm to her during both of their dances. Those were the only times she saw him throughout the evening, for Daniel Everleigh monopolized her attention, as always, on her two dance breaks, and he took it for granted that he would escort her to supper when the dancing was done.

  The supper room was just off the ballroom, and was as sumptuously furnished as any dining room. Although there was an abundance of food, equivalent to a five- or six-course dinner, Valeria was not at all hungry, and settled for a small bit of Stilton cheese and an apple tart. After a mere two or three bites she drank an entire glass of cold fresh raspberry water, and Daniel went to fetch her more. When he returned, Valeria turned her chair slightly, and he arranged his to face her, sitting so closely that his knees occasionally touched hers. This had become customary between them.

  “I say, Miss Segrave, the word is that you are the darling of the Season. I’m told that the Queen spoke to you this evening; and she only spoke to two other girls, dukes’ daughters. Then the prince upsets the whole ballroom by demanding an introduction, and by all accounts he is completely taken by your charms, which I’ve always said are considerable.” He grinned a shark’s grin. “All of the young ladies who’ve never been introduced to Prinny are in quite a taking, they’re pea-green with envy. Miss Cranleigh told Miss Mowbray that you’re really not at all the thing, she was amazed that the prince had taken note of you, for everyone knows that you’re only the daughter of a baron, and not very pretty at that. I took it upon myself to say, ‘Everyone knows that, Miss Cranleigh? How very odd, considering that His Royal Highness said that Miss Segrave was handsome, elegant, clever, enchanting, and lovely.’ Miss Cranleigh and Miss Mowbray both looked as if they’d taken a bite of a particularly nasty rotten apple.”

  “Nonsense, he didn’t say all of that rubbish,” Valeria scoffed.

  “He most certainly did, I had it from Kincannon himself. Don’t you know that every word said by Prinny is repeated verbatim? It’s the highest form of Town gossip.”

  “He truly did? How marvelous,” Valeria said, a fresh wave of jubilation coloring her cheeks and brightening her eyes to an unearthly brilliance.

  Everleigh leaned over and motioned her to bend her head so that he could speak in her ear. The two were quite close, and by their body language showed no small intimacy.

  Everleigh whispered, “Kincannon told me something else too, and it’s going to be great fun. In three weeks he’s giving a bal masque at the Pantheon, and he wants me to invite you and urge you to come, since he says you’re a genuine smasher.”

  “Why does not Lord Kincannon simply send me an invitation?”

  Everleigh said earnestly, “No, it’s not that sort of party. It’s more like—like the assembly rooms, at home, you see. Certain nights are set for dances, and people just come.”

  “All right, I see that. Now tell me why we are whispering?”r />
  “Oh, Kincannon’s parties aren’t to everyone’s taste. I’m sure Lady Hylton wouldn’t approve, but you have to admit that she is particularly starchy. Lydgate’s a sport, and he wouldn’t care, but I doubt that Lady Lydgate would want to attend. But a masquerade, Miss Segrave! Tell me, promise me, you’ll come with me.”

  Valeria leaned back slightly and gave him an arch look. Then, again whispering in his ear, she said, “If I’m understanding you correctly, sir, you’re asking me to accompany you to a party without a sign of a chaperon.”

  “You are entirely correct,” he said slyly. “Brazen of me, ain’t it? But then you’re a lady of fire and spirit, Miss Segrave, and it would be such an adventure. I know that you’re so keen you’ll think of some ingenious costume. That’s already half the fun there.”

  Valeria thought that it would indeed be great fun; she had always longed to go to a masquerade ball, and had never had the opportunity. Still, some semblance of caution existed, even though it was a very dim sense somewhere in the back of her mind. She whispered, “I’ll have to think about it, Mr. Everleigh. I may not be quite as adventuresome as you believe.”

  “Oh, but I know that you are, Miss Segrave, and I believe that when I dance with you at Lady Mowbray’s tomorrow night you’ll consent to accompany me to Kincannon’s party. And as long as we are whispering, may I call you Valeria?”

  “I suppose so,” Valeria said with a flirtatious smile. “But in that case we must keep on whispering.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  IN FACT, VALERIA DID NOT consent to go to Lord Kincannon’s bal masque when she danced with Daniel Everleigh the next night at Lady Mowbray’s; nor did she consent when she rode with him in Hyde Park the following day; nor did she consent when he pressed her even more urgently as they sat together in the Hylton box at Covent Garden for a superb production of Mozart’s Così Fan Tutte.

  However, an idea was forming in her mind—a creative, ingenious idea for a costume, so Valeria thought, and the more she thought about it, the more enticing the idea of attending a masquerade in a daring disguise became. She thought that most likely she would never be recognized.

  In considering the difficulties of getting her costume, and of attending the ball without her mother or her chaperons knowing it, Valeria solemnly promised herself that she would not tell a single lie, and that omission of the truth was not the same as lying.

  The fact that she deliberately acted in a deceptive way, with full intent to deceive, never entered her mind. She was in such a glow from her success, her popularity, and indeed the increasingly adoring attentions from Daniel Everleigh that she felt invincible. She viewed herself as contrasting with the other rather insipid, timid girls; Valeria herself was fiery, audacious, and bold. Men such as Lord Stephen Tryon, Lord Kincannon, and even the haughty Beau Brummel himself regarded her as such, Daniel had assured her.

  Fully aware that it would take some time for her costume to be made, she finally did tell Daniel that she would go to the bal masque with him. Delicate arrangements were made, and somehow Daniel (for now he and Valeria addressed each other by their first names, although only in private conversation) made all the secrecy and the dissimulation seem like part of a great exciting mystery, like a scavenger hunt.

  Regina and Valeria had stayed late at a card party at Lord and Lady Lydgate’s, and the next day Regina was pale and wan.

  “Mamma, I just now decided to go to Bond Street, but it’s really not necessary for you to accompany me,” Valeria assured her. “It’s going to be tiresome, for I have to go to Monsieur Joubert’s, the milliner, my bootmaker, and the glover’s. It will be perfectly acceptable if Joan chaperons me.”

  Regina considered this for a few moments, then nodded. “Very well, dearest, to tell the truth I am feeling a bit fatigued. I thought I might rest for a while after luncheon. But do, do behave yourself, Valeria, please.”

  “Oh, Joan will keep me perfectly respectable,” she said lightly.

  Ewan stopped the carriage at the northern end of the street, and as all of Valeria’s stops ranged up and down the street, he agreed to meet them at the southern end. Valeria was relieved. She knew that she could make her stops without being obliged to explain anything to Joan, but Ewan Platt had known her far, far too long and well, and he would likely suspect something immediately. If Ewan and Craigie caught a whiff, she would be doomed, she thought with a wholly unconscious irony.

  At Monsieur Joubert’s door, Valeria turned to Joan, who was walking meekly slightly behind her, and said, “Stay out here, Joan. I shall only be a moment.”

  Joan looked taken aback, but of course she said nothing. Valeria went in, and was warmly welcomed by Monsieur Joubert. In spite of the fact that Valeria had tried and tried to think of how to tell the tailor exactly what she wanted, she’d had had very little success in coming up with some brilliant explanation. After his courteous greeting, she said with completely artificial brightness, “Monsieur Joubert, I am considering—that is, we are considering a new servants’ livery. Do you tailor that particular fashion, of the old-style coats and long waistcoats?”

  He bowed. “Certainement, mademoiselle. I would be most heppy to tailor to each servant the livery.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Valeria said vaguely. “Do you—would you—perhaps we might do a trial—that is, a sample livery, on what you might call a smaller scale than a—a—full-grown man, to save, that is it would not take so much fabric—” She stopped in utter confusion, her cheeks coloring a bright pink.

  Monsieur Joubert’s heavy-lidded gaze took on a knowing Gallic look, and then he resumed his customary cordial expression of polite interest. “If I may be so bold, would this perhaps be something that mademoiselle herself is interested in? Perhaps it may have to do with the bal masque, oui?”

  Valeria was vastly relieved. “Oui, monsieur. I am attending a masquerade ball, and I have a particular costume in mind. I know that I may rely on your discretion, Monsieur Joubert. Also, my costume is not to be charged to my mother’s account; I shall pay for it myself, in cash.” She went on to explain exactly what she wanted, and noted that Monsieur Joubert never blinked an eye. Either he was the most self-controlled man she had ever met, or he was so accustomed to the peccadilloes of the haut ton that nothing shocked him.

  Although Monsieur Joubert had extensive measurements already, some additional ones were required, and Madame Joubert and her daughters were fully as smooth-faced and professionally detached as Monsieur Joubert. They were also professionally thorough, so it took about half an hour. By the time Valeria rejoined Joan out on the boardwalk, her maid looked distinctly worried. Airily Valeria said, “Oh, we had some quibbling about measurements, and some additional ones had to be taken, that’s what took so long. Come along, my bootmaker is just up here.”

  Again Valeria told Joan not to accompany her inside; and the same at the glover’s and the milliner’s. When they finally reached the carriage, Joan was looking thoroughly mystified, but with satisfaction Valeria observed that she didn’t seem suspicious at all. Joan was a sweet-natured, gentle girl, and would never think of questioning her.

  As the days wore on at their usual furious pace, Valeria and Daniel spent more and more time together, and the both of them grew more and more excited about the masquerade ball. Valeria refused to tell him about her costume, and he teased and wheedled her unmercifully, but she was adamant. “All I shall say is that I think you’ll be surprised. I daresay there won’t be another one like it.”

  “I’m sure there won’t,” he agreed. “Knowing you, Valeria, you’ll out-masque us all.”

  * * *

  Lord Kincannon’s bal masque at the Pantheon was set for Wednesday night, beginning at midnight. The weekly balls at Almack’s were on Wednesdays, and Valeria, Lady Hylton, and Lord and Lady Lydgate always attended them; and many times, to Valeria’s surprise, considering his disdain for the club, Alastair Hylton came with them. On this particular Wednesday night he did no
t. Valeria asked where he was, and none of them knew, not even Reggie. “He is that tight-lipped, y’know,” Reggie said carelessly. “I asked him if he was coming tonight, and he fairly slapped me down and told me to be mindful of my own business and leave his alone.”

  Usually Lady Hylton tired by about eleven o’clock, and most of the time she went home by herself and sent the carriage back. But on this night Valeria said, “Do you know, ma’am, I’m feeling rather fatigued myself this evening. I believe I’ll return home with you.”

  “Really?” Lady Hylton said with surprise. “You aren’t getting ill, are you, child?”

  “Oh, no, not at all.” Then she added mischievously, “Truth to tell, Mr. Everleigh is also leaving early; he is apparently going to another party.”

  “Ah, I see,” Lady Hylton said knowingly. Valeria and Daniel had been together so much that in spite of Lady Sturway’s staunch objections, speculation was that there might indeed be a match in the making.

  When Valeria arrived home, she refused Joan’s offer of cocoa, hurried her through undressing, then dismissed her. As soon as her footsteps faded away, Valeria began re-dressing. She and Daniel had agreed that he would be waiting for her at the corner of the street at eleven forty-five. It was about five minutes past midnight before Valeria was finished, and she felt a moment’s anxiety. But then she realized that of course Daniel would wait for her.

  A stealthy figure clothed in solid black, she stole down to the library, then slipped into the drawing room, a mere shadow. She opened the French doors and, as lightly as if she were a gazelle, sprang across a short gap to a thick branch of the elm tree growing just by the house. With her fingertips she was able to close the well-oiled door without a single squeak. Nimbly, for she had mentally rehearsed this, she stepped down onto a lower branch, then another, and then jumped three feet to the ground. Gathering her black cape around her so as to hide the glare of her white shirt, cuffs, and jabot, she furtively hurried to the walk. Down the street she could plainly see, by the streetlamps, Daniel pacing to and fro by his carriage. He wore no costume, for he was exceedingly disdainful of them for gentlemen.