Lady with a Black Umbrella

by Mary Balogh

  “Oh, dear,” Rose said, her eyes straying to that gentleman, with whom she had danced and enjoyed the second set. For all his handsome good looks and manly bearing, she had found him ready to make conversation and set her at her ease. And he had been very good to her and Daisy, though she realized full well that her sister had unwittingly pushed him into doing far more for them than he had intended to do. He had also shown great restraint in not ripping up at Daisy on Bond Street when she had quite unknowingly exposed them to dreadful humiliation. Lord Kincade a ruthless jailer? She had her doubts.

  “You will do it for me?” Judith asked. “You will, I know. You are a dear, Rose. I will do as much for you one day.”

  “I really think you ought not,” Rose said.

  But she was led away at that moment by her next partner. She looked critically at Lord Powers, who was in a set adjacent to her own, looking very handsome and smiling attentively at his partner. Had she promised, or had she not? Certainly Judith seemed to think she had. And was that not the same as actually making the promise?

  The very next set was the one that Lord Powers had reserved with Rose. She had had several partners already and was feeling quite able to cope with having such a darkly handsome one.

  Lord Powers smiled a very white-toothed smile as they waited for the music to begin. “You are Lord Brigham’s daughter,” he said. “I have just discovered that fact.”

  “Did you know him?” Rose asked.

  “I did not have that pleasure,” he said, “but I certainly knew of him. As who did not? But I did not know that he had such a very beautiful daughter.”

  Rose smiled a little uncertainly.

  “Indeed,” he said, “I have found since I entered the room and first set eyes on you that I have the utmost difficulty directing my eyes at anyone else. I believe you have quite slain me, Miss Morrison.”

  The music began at that moment. It was the only set of the evening so far that Rose did not enjoy. Indeed, by the end of it, she felt so uneasy at his lordship’s extravagant gallantries that she decided to seek out Daisy and confide her problem.

  “Lord Powers pretends to be quite smitten with me,” she said.

  “Pretends?” Daisy, whose face was glowing with her enjoyment of the evening, laughed. “I am not at all surprised, Rose. You look beautiful enough to slay all the gentlemen here tonight. I have seen the way several others have looked at you too.”

  “But he is supposed to be in love with Lady Judith,” Rose said. He wants to marry her. And he tried to elope with an heiress last year. Lord Kincade calls him a fortune-hunter.”

  Daisy’s eyes sharpened. “Lord Kincade says so?” she said. “I have the greatest respect for Lord Kincade. Well, you must be careful, that is all, Rose. But I know I can trust to your good sense, dear. I know I will not have to be chasing off to Gretna Green on your heels. I wonder if he knows who we are.”

  “Yes, he does,” Rose said.

  “Ah.” Daisy nodded. “Steer clear of him, then, Rose. There are plenty of other eligible gentlemen here. Did you enjoy your dance with Lord Kincade? I saw that he was talking with you through the whole of the set.”

  Rose was not listening. “Lady Judith is planning a private meeting with him in the library later this evening,” she said. “And I believe she thinks I have promised to lie for her so that her absence will not be remarked upon.”

  Daisy tapped her sister’s arm with her fan. “Then you must disabuse her mind,” she said, “and then relax and enjoy yourself. I shall keep an eye on Lady Judith. It is the least I can do for Lord Kincade, who has been so remarkably good to us.”

  “Will you?” Rose asked dubiously.

  “Don’t I always look out for other people in trouble?” Daisy asked cheerfully.

  Rose looked even more dubious. “Yes,” she said.

  Chapter 7

  Daisy danced three of the first five sets, and would indeed have danced all five if Lady Hetty had caught her sooner refusing partners on the ground that she was there merely as an observer and chaperon for her sister. She absolutely must not do so, Lady Hetty said, when she was looking so perfectly splendid in her netted gown and when she looked not a day above twenty. And when Lady Hetty herself was so obviously filling the role of chaperon to both young ladies.

  Daisy vastly enjoyed dancing the opening set with Lord Kincade. He looked so very magnificent in his ice-blue coat and silver waistcoat and knee breeches, with a quantity of white lace at neck and cuffs, that she positively gloated over the fact that he was to dance with Rose next. And how splendid they would look together. Then, of course, he was an accomplished dancer, and Daisy found to her surprise that she remembered the steps of the dance. She had never given a great deal of attention to her dancing lessons.

  Perhaps best of all was the fact that he did not make a great deal of conversation, with the result that Daisy could count steps and memorize the pattern of the dance and soon feel quite confident that she could continue without conscious thought. Lord Kincade merely looked at her steadily and unsmilingly. He too was anxious to get on to the next set and a younger and more attractive partner, she thought entirely without rancor. She wished it too. She would not be dancing the following set and would be able to watch the two of them together.

  She smiled. “You must think it very forward of me, my lord,” she said, “to be dancing when I am five-and-twenty years old and here really in the capacity of chaperon.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I am eight-and-twenty, ma’am, and can still execute the steps without shouting from the pain of the rheumatics.”

  Daisy laughed. “You know that is not what I meant,” she said. “I am in the best of health, I assure you. But as far as propriety is concerned, you may be glad to know that I have refused partners for the next two sets. Indeed, I would have sat demure and content among the chaperons for the rest of the evening had not Lady Hetty stepped in and scolded me for not dancing.”

  “I doubt that the dowagers and pillars of propriety will be unduly shocked to see you kick up your heels, Miss Morrison,” Lord Kincade said, looking down at her with his one violet eye and the other good one. “I assure you that you carry your advanced age very well.”

  “If you say so,” she said doubtfully. “I hope you are not merely being kind. I trust you to be honest with me.”

  Daisy could not interpret the expression that flashed across the viscount’s face and was gone. But she was not too bothered by the mystery. She smiled again. “Do you not think Rose looks quite beautiful?” she asked. “I think she outshines any other young lady present, though I will admit that I am partial. And I happen to know, of course, that there is a very sweet person behind the beauty.”

  “She looks very lovely indeed,” Lord Kincade agreed, and Daisy beamed up at him warmly before missing a step and having to concentrate again on counting.

  For the next couple of sets she observed both her sister and the viscount with satisfaction. She was pleased to see that Rose had made friends with Lady Judith and a group of other young ladies. She was ecstatic to note that Lord Kincade talked to her during most of the second set and even smiled several times. The viscount seemed to be a man not given much to smiling.

  And she was gratified to note that his other partners were not one-tenth as lovely as Rose and that Lord Kincade did not appear to be unduly enamored of any of them. Her one fear—for Rose’s sake—had been that perhaps he already had a lady to whom he was paying serious court.

  Her own partners she found quite satisfactory. It was true that the Reverend Fairhaven was not nearly as good a dancer as his brother—or nearly as handsome, for that matter—but she liked him vastly. He won her everlasting affection by compli-menting her on Rose’s appearance. He amused her by extending those compliments to herself.

  “Come, sir,” she said. “I know it is a clergyman’s job to make people feel good about themselves, but clergymen are not expected to tell outright bouncers of lies, you know.”

&nb
sp; "Miss Morrison!” Arthur looked astonished and completely lost his way in the set. He recovered himself with an apology and a smile. “Indeed you do look very lovely, quite one of the loveliest ladies in the room. Ask Giles or any other gentleman. No, I suppose you cannot do that, can you? But I do assure you that I am not lying.”

  Lord Doncaster, who had asked Lady Hetty to present him and had introduced himself as a particular friend of Lord Kincade, was an amusing young man, who appeared to have a permanent twinkle in his eye. He commended Daisy on her courage in coming to the rescue of his friend with no deadlier weapon than an umbrella, and on her generosity in paying his debts when she had no assurance that she would be repaid.

  “As for that,” Daisy said, “I did not even wish to be repaid, though Lord Kincade, of course, being a gentleman of honor, insisted. I just did not like to see a gentleman who as far as I could see had done no one any harm, publicly humiliated. That innkeeper was a thoroughly unpleasant man and had given Rose and me a small bedchamber at the back of the inn merely because we had no servant with us except Gerry. And that barmaid I despised because I could see that she enjoys what she does. I could sympathize if I felt that poverty forced her to it, but I do not believe that is so.”

  Lord Doncaster was grinning widely, his shoulders shaking.

  Daisy frowned. “I should not say such things in polite society, should I?” she said. “I am afraid I am used to speaking whatever is on my mind, for if I did not, you see, nothing would ever be accomplished in my home.”

  “Please treat me with the freedom you would accord a friend,” he said. “I am not easily shocked, ma’am.”

  “Thank you,” Daisy said. “That is very civil of you. I was glad to pay that gaming debt too when I saw Mr. Martin. I did not like him above half.”

  “He looked as if he might go for Giles’ blood?” Lord Doncaster asked.

  “No.” Daisy frowned again. “He looked as if he cared not at all for the money. He looked as if he was enjoying the whole situation. He smiled and smiled, but if one could have put a book up over his nose and seen only that part of his face above it, one would not have known at all that he was smiling. I daresay he was disappointed that I paid him, for then he had no more reason to despise the viscount, did he?”

  “No, I suppose not,” Lord Doncaster said faintly, his shoulders still shaking.

  Daisy was enjoying the ball, but her brief talk with Rose had alerted her instantly to possible danger from the smiling, handsome Lord Powers. Earlier she had thought him a possible suitor for Rose, since he had begged an introduction to her through Judith and signed her card without delay. But, yes, she thought now, he could very well be a villain. His smile had the same sort of insincerity as that horrid Mr. Martin’s had had.

  She would watch after Rose, she decided, though she trusted to the good sense of her sister not to be charmed by a man whose motives she already suspected. But she must also keep an eye on Lady Judith, who was clearly young and foolish and intent on ignoring the warnings of her older and wiser brother. If she did try to slip away with Lord Powers despite Rose’s refusal to help her, then Daisy would go after her and make sure that no harm came to her.

  The moment came after supper, when Judith was dancing with Lord Powers for the second time. For a minute or two they were there, and then they were gone. Had Daisy not been particularly watching, despite the fact that she was dancing with Colonel Appleby, she might not have noticed until it was too late. But she had been watching. Rose had told her that indeed she had declined to lie for her new friend but that Judith had merely tossed her head and said that she intended to spend some time alone with her beau anyway.

  Daisy discovered without more ado that her hem was down and her slipper like to catch in it at any moment and send her sprawling. She clutched the side of her gown in what she hoped was a convincing manner, apologized profusely to the colonel, and hurried from the ballroom.

  She had thought earlier of speaking to Lord Kincade or the Reverend Fairhaven about their sister’s plans. But she had rejected the idea. Lady Judith’s parents were in Bath, apparently, and Lord Kincade was in charge of his sister during their absence and during the confinement of the older sister. And it seemed that there had been some conflict already over Lord Powers. Poor Lady Judith would be in trouble if she were discovered in a private and forbidden tryst with her beau, or even perhaps if she were suspected of having planned such a meeting. And Lady Judith was just a young and foolish and impressionable girl—no older than Rose.

  There was no need to get her into trouble. Daisy would handle the matter herself. And she would have a good talk with the girl tomorrow if she could, and doubtless persuade her to see sense. Lady Judith was very pretty and very young. She would have numerous chances to make an advantageous marriage. Colonel Appleby, for example, was clearly very interested in her.

  So when Daisy slipped from the ballroom, she did not stop to enlist anyone’s help. She made straight for the library downstairs, having had the forethought to ask a footman the way. And sure enough, a peep around the door into the room, which was lit only by two candles on the mantelpiece, revealed two figures wrapped in each other’s arms. Daisy coughed and stepped inside. She shut the door firmly behind her.

  “Goodness me, how pleasant it is to find a room that is relatively quiet for a few moments, is it not?’’ she said. “But I see that you two have had the same idea as I.” She smiled.

  Judith and Lord Powers jumped apart and turned to face her.

  “Oh,” Judith said. “You have followed me here. You have told Giles. I might as well be in a prison.”

  “The umbrella lady,” Lord Powers said with a faint smile and a bow. “Good evening, ma’am.”

  “Well, yes,” Daisy said with a smile, “I did follow you here, Lady Judith. But tell your brother? Why should I do such a thing? The room would be decidedly crowded if he were here too, would it not? And I perceive that you would like a tittle time to converse alone. That is quite understandable. The ballroom is indeed crowded. But you forgot, you see, that you need a chaperon to make your tête-à-tête respectable. I will be that chaperon.”

  “I do not need a chaperon,” Judith said indignantly. “I am nineteen years old and in my second Season, and everyone treats me as if I were a child.”

  Lord Powers, behind her, looked at Daisy with a half-smile and raised one eyebrow.

  “Of course you are not a child,” Daisy said. “If you were, you would need a nurse. You are a young and lovely young lady, and need a chaperon. I shall go over to that corner of the library”—she walked purposefully to the part of the room farthest away from where the other two stood—and examine the books. I think I can amuse myself here for the ten or fifteen minutes that must be left in this particular set of dances. And I shall hum a tune to myself to keep up my spirits. I shall neither observe nor hear your conversation, you see.” She smiled brightly and turned her back on the pair.

  Fierce whispering broke out behind her as Daisy suited action to words and hummed along with the music that could be heard faintly in the background. After a couple of minutes Judith spoke.

  “We are going back to the ballroom now, Miss Morrison,” she said. “Lord Powers brought me down here because I was feeling faint and short of breath from so much dancing.”

  Daisy turned and smiled. “I do not wonder at it,” she said.

  “I have noticed that you have been much in demand with all the young gentlemen. Lord Powers is to be commended for his kindness and concern.”

  That young gentleman regarded her with the same half-smile he had worn earlier. “But you were quite right, Miss Morrison,” he said. “I should have taken the time to realize how improper it was to bring Lady Judith here without the added presence of a chaperon. It seems, ma’am, that you have undertaken the task of being guardian angel to the Fairhaven family.”

  Daisy nodded briskly. “I shall precede you back to the ballroom, then,” she said. “I expect you will be a m
inute or two after me.”

  “Miss Morrison?” Judith said as Daisy turned away. “You are not going to tell Giles? Promise?”

  “Of course I promise,” Daisy said. “Why would I wish to tell your brother that all the dancing has tired you? He might forbid you to attend any more balls. And that would be quite tragic for a young lady, would it not?”

  She left the library, trusting full well that the two truants would follow on her heels after a brief kiss, which she thought it prudent to allow them. Her hand held the handle of the door, which she intended to leave ajar. However, when she ran literally into Viscount Kincade, coming in the opposite direction, she pulled the door shut and smiled.

  “How very embarrassing,” she said. “I came downstairs hoping for a few moments of quiet and walked in on a, er, tête-à-tête. I would advise you not to go in there, my lord.”

  “Judith and Powers?” he said. “I have every intention of going in, Miss Morrison, if you will stand aside.”

  “Oh, gracious no,” she said. “You are mistaken. Are they together? And did they leave the ballroom? Perhaps they are in here, then. Let’s look.”

  She caught him by the arm and almost dragged him through the door of the room next to the library. It was a small salon, she saw, also lit by a pair of candles on the mantelpiece. She crossed the room and spread her hands to the blaze that was not there. She must give Lady Judith time to return to the ballroom. She had promised not to get the girl into trouble.

  “What are you up to, Miss Morrison?” Lord Kincade asked suspiciously from behind her.

  Lord Kincade had not been enjoying the ball. It was never his idea of pleasure to spend a whole evening dancing and making small talk against the background of vigorous dance music. Although he attended balls, he liked to spend at least part of the evening in the card room and part in some anteroom in conversation with sensible gentlemen.

  But on this occasion he had to stay in the ballroom the whole time, pretending to enjoy himself while keeping his eye on Judith. He hated the role of jailer. And it was one he was unaccustomed to playing. His parents had been in London during the previous Season when Judith made her come-out and for the first weeks of this Season until his father’s ill health had sent them both to Bath in search of the healing waters. His own relationship with his younger sister had always been good. She was high-spirited and headstrong, but he had never seen any particular vice in her. But he had never before been responsible for seeing that she did not do anything irrevocably foolish.