by Kate Archer
The royal crest topped the paper. Underneath, she read:
It is the Prince Regent’s pleasure to request the attendance of the Dowager Duchess of Carlisle, Viscount Trebly and the Honorable Cassandra Knightsbridge to an evening ball to be held on 16th of April at nine o’clock at Carlton House in recognition of Miss Knightsbridge’s service to the crown upon defending our Dowager Duchess of Carlisle at great risk to her own person.
The ball is further sponsored by the dukes of the realm: Carlisle, Gravesley, Dembly, Bainbridge, Wentworth, and Glastonburg.
George P R
The paper fluttered to Cassandra’s lap. Before she could think through what the invitation meant, the dowager herself barreled into the room.
“Maidencraft informs me we have had an unusual letter delivered?” she said. “He was so overcome by it that I almost sent a footman for smelling salts.”
“I might need them myself,” Cassandra said quietly.
The dowager crossed the room with her usual energy. “Let us see,” she said.
She scanned the invitation. “Most excellent,” she said softly.
“But it is not excellent!” Cassandra said. “I have no wish to be made a spectacle of. It is most strange that the Prince Regent should think of such a thing. As well, why should the further sponsors, as they are called, be the fathers of the gentlemen of the pact? I do not even know what the term further sponsors means!”
“It means nothing at all,” the dowager said, “other than to apprise people of the support you have garnered from those gentlemen.”
“I will have to send my regrets and certainly my father will wish the same. Of course, I am honored that such a great personage should take an interest in me, but I could not bear it.”
“My dear,” the dowager said kindly, “one does not send one’s regrets to the Regent. This is less an invitation and more a summons. I am afraid you have no choice but to attend.”
Though Cassandra knew the dowager was correct, she still searched her mind for a way out of going. It was one thing to know that letters flew hither and thither proclaiming her innocence, but she did not feel up to presenting herself for inspection.
“Now, I would like to have a look at your dresses before we make our way to London. Oh, and I’d rather not go to the bother of opening up my house and I have no particular wish to stay with my grandson at this moment. Do you suppose Lady Marksworth would mind my staying at Marksworth House? Will you see to it, my dear?”
Despite Cassandra having no wish to go to London or Carlton House, it seemed she would go. The dowager raced ahead with plans and it rather struck her as a galloping horse. There did not seem to be a way of slowing the lady down.
At least she had a week before she must go and face down the ton.
Chapter Fifteen
The gentlemen of the pact who had found it convenient to absent themselves from London had all been tracked down and been delivered a directive. It was not one that any of them could have anticipated, its bizarre nature too far removed from any kind of prediction.
They had gathered at Dalton’s house to see what could be done about it, though Edwin was certain nothing could be done. Once Prinny got an idea into his head, it was near impossible to get it out, and the Regent did enjoy a good joke.
The gentlemen who had gathered round the table in Dalton’s library generally enjoyed a good joke as much as their Regent, though perhaps not as jovially when the joke was upon themselves.
“It cannot hold,” Lockwood said. “I expect that once he’s had his amusement, we will be delivered of the real invitations.”
“It will hold,” Edwin said. “Mark me, it will hold.”
“It’s outrageous,” Dalton said, downing his brandy. “How is an earl expected…”
“Just like the rest of us, I would guess,” Ashworth said.
“Perhaps we should cease wallowing in our misery and be grateful that the Regent has taken up Miss Knightsbridge’s cause,” Edwin said.
“She hardly needs it at this point,” Cabot said. “She’s been proved an innocent victim, we are condemned and, if that were not enough, suddenly she’s a heroine!”
“That’s right,” Grayson said. “One minute she’s to be censured for wielding a shotgun and the next it seems the height of good sense!”
“She did rescue my grandmother with that gun,” Edwin said drily.
“I’m all for supporting Miss Knightsbridge and taking upon me any condemnation,” Dalton said, “but this crosses a line.”
“Perhaps,” Edwin said. “But we will do as we have been commanded. There’s no escaping it. Have you seen the real invitation? The one sent to everybody else? Our father’s names are on them.”
“They are all in league!” Lockwood said.
“Apparently,” Edwin said. “Though we all must have known that the silence from our fathers must portend some incoming disaster.”
“I, for one,” Cabot said, “plan on drinking a vast quantity of wine.”
“That will not be wise,” Edwin said. “We will have much work to do.”
“I still say we should consider burning down White’s,” Lockwood said.
As nobody concurred with that daring plan, Lord Lockwood drained his brandy.
*
The viscount had been out on the estate, making his rounds to various tenants, and so it had been some hours before he arrived back to the Hall and was apprised of the remarkable invitation that had arrived from the Prince Regent.
Now, Maidencraft oversaw the footmen serving dinner, as the viscount said, “I’d rather shoot them all, but I suppose a ball will have to do.”
“I think it will do very well,” the dowager said. “Though, my dear viscount, I pray you will not let on your views of our Regent?”
“That he is a fat fool?” the viscount said.
There was a clatter of a serving spoon, but Jimmy quickly recovered.
“I’ll say nothing about it,” the viscount said. “In any case, it appears he finally does something useful.”
“You will return to town victorious,” the dowager said to Cassandra. “Though I know you are not particularly enthusiastic over the idea.”
Cassandra had used the day to think over going back to face the ton. While she could not say she was enthusiastic, her opinion had somewhat shifted.
“It is true I do not relish the idea,” Cassandra said, “but it occurs to me that I have been hiding here. To be hiding means I must be frightened. That is an idea that does not suit. Cassandra Knightsbridge is not to be frightened off by wagging tongues. I can ride like the devil and shoot better than most men, I will not be cowed by words.”
The viscount smiled with pride. Maidencraft was so struck by the speech that he stood motionless holding a bowl of peas.
The dowager said, “Brava, Miss Knightsbridge.”
*
The following morning, Cassandra received a letter from Sybil. She curled up on the sofa with May on one side and George on the other.
My dear Cass—
In my prior letters I was careful not to write anything alluding to your misfortune as I did not wish to cause you further distress. Now, though, I may speak freely. You are the toast of the town! All anybody talks of is how Miss Knightsbridge was wronged, how bravely she faced it, how she saved the dowager duchess and how the Prince Regent and six dukes throw her a ball. An invitation to the ball is much sought after and much discussed. Some that have received it mention it everywhere as if it were a badge of honor. It is said that Lady Montague fumes in Yorkshire as she has received no such invitation. I have even heard that the Dowager Duchess of Carlisle has scolded the lady severely via a terse and condemning letter and many suspect Lady Montague of distributing that awful print that was thrown through your window. One wonders if she hired the urchin to throw it, though I suspect we will never know.
I and my mother and father will be in attendance at the ball and ready to support you through it, as I imagine you m
ust be in a state of nerves over it. My mother likens it to the Battle of Bosworth—it will be the decisive victory. For myself, I wonder if the six gentlemen of the pact will attend. Nobody seems to know, and there have been hints that they may have been snubbed. On the one hand, that would be quite right. On the other, I would be interested to see how Lord Hampton would conduct himself. Of all the gentlemen, he has been the most industrious in claiming fault. Further, he has seemed to go out of his way to speak to me about you—have I heard from you, how does Miss Knightsbridge do? I do not know whose very stupid idea this rumor was, and those things always do start with one before they are taken up by others, but he certainly appears the most sorry over it.
Lord Lockwood has twice attempted to explain himself to me, but I will have none of it. I told him, most emphatically, that if I were a man I would meet him at dawn. I apprised my mother and father of this and they were most amused—my mother said she would provide the dueling pistols and my father said he’d load them. So that is an indication of their solid support for Miss Knightsbridge. Lord Lockwood may try all he likes to make himself pleasant, but I cannot overlook what he has been a part of.
That is all for now, I find myself at the window often, hoping to see the carriage that brings you back to us.
Your friend,
Sybil Hayworth
Cassandra laid down the letter. She could not help but be relieved that the truth was now known and widely accepted. She could not help but be grateful for Sybil’s staunch support, not to mention Lord and Lady Blanding’s. She also could not help feeling the light wings of a butterfly against her heart as she read of Lord Hampton. It was unfair that he should have any effect upon her at all, other than anger and disdain. He and his friends had hurt her badly and it was only through other’s efforts that she was being restored.
She at once hoped he would attend the ball and dreaded it. What on earth could he say to her by way of apology? And yet, did she not wish to hear what he would say? But then, how could she countenance a gentleman who had so materially damaged her?
The more she thought of the likelihood of seeing him there, the more she was convinced she would not. The ball was being held in her honor, it would be absurd for the very perpetrators of the scheme to be welcomed.
She patted both May and George on the head. “Well,” she said, “I will be forced to meet their fathers, but I am fairly certain I will not see them.”
*
Cassandra rode in the dowager’s carriage as it barreled toward London; her father would follow them on the morrow. The dowager had chosen one of Cassandra’s dresses for the ball as being suitable, but she had in mind some small alterations and so was determined to set off earlier than planned.
Cassandra hoped her letter informing Lady Marksworth of their imminent arrival had reached her in time. It was not only their changed schedule that need be communicated, there was also the fact that May accompanied her on this trip.
The dowager very much approved of her little dog’s friendship with May and thought George should not be parted with his companion unnecessarily soon.
Cassandra sat next to the dowager while on the seat across, George stretched out and May curled herself tight in the little room left to her.
“You see how George takes up as much space in the world as he can manage?” the Dowager asked.
“Indeed,” Cassandra said, “I have noticed his habit of it, while my own great beast of a dog squeezes herself into a corner.”
“Precisely,” the dowager said. “Size, as we can see, has nothing to do with it. George takes what he believes is due him. May is convinced George ought to have more space than she because George is utterly sure of it. That is what you must do, my dear. Be convinced of your right to your place in the world. The talk now goes in your favor and you must cement it there by how you carry yourself and receive those who have offended.”
“I pray you do not mean the gentlemen who have caused all this,” Cassandra said. “I am perfectly amenable to meeting with those who heard a story and passed it on, but not those who invented it. Have I been wrong to assume they would not be invited?”
“Oh, they will not be guests, that I can assure you.”
Cassandra felt a great amount of relief to have it confirmed. Though there was a part of her that wished to hear from Lord Hampton, there was a part of her that still wished to blow his head off. In any case, as the day of the ball grew near, she’d found herself dreading any sort of encounter with him. She would have enough to contend with on that particular evening.
They had entered the confines of London and Cassandra thought of the dark morning she had left it. The streetlamps had glowed through the dawn mist and it had seemed as if there could never be sunshine again. Yet, here was town in all its bustle, the sun shining down upon it all.
*
Lady Marksworth had been most gracious in receiving the dowager. That she’d not got word of their early arrival was not evident, as the lady was too composed to let it show. That she’d not got word that there would be two dogs to contend with might also have been covered up, had not Racine stared so balefully at them.
Cassandra thought the butler had been somewhat mollified at being told the dogs would sleep in their respective owner’s bedchambers, as he must have wondered what he was to do with them. Mollified, perhaps, but not exactly approving.
Still, Racine had never foreseen that he might one day make arrangements for a dowager duchess and Cassandra imagined it was one of the crowning moments of his career. At least, the amount and diversity of cakes on the tea tray must hint at it.
Lady Marksworth poured tea and said, “All of Cassandra’s friends are most grateful for your efforts, Your Grace.”
The dowager waved her hands and said, “There is nothing to be grateful for, as my own wretched grandson was at the very heart of the scheme.”
“Nevertheless,” Lady Marksworth said, “I have been waiting and hoping that the tide would turn and it has most decidedly. There is a stack of invitations in the hall, all wishing to host a dinner or a rout for Miss Knightsbridge.”
“Please, Aunt,” Cassandra said, “do not accept them. I feel as if I have enough ahead of me in considering the ball.”
“We need say nothing yet,” Lady Marksworth said. “We will see how you feel once you’ve been through the worst of it. I know how little you like to be stared at.”
Racine entered and said, “Lady Sybil to see Miss Knightsbridge.”
Sybil had not waited in the hall nor sent in her card; she had been in the house so often that all ceremony had fallen by the wayside. She rushed in and Cassandra leapt to her feet.
“Cass!” Sybil cried. Then, noting the dowager, she instantly halted.
“Dear Sybil,” Cassandra said, crossing the room to her and clasping her hands. “How good it is to see you.”
She took Sybil by the arm and walked her to the tea table. “Dowager Duchess of Carlisle, may I present my dear friend, Lady Sybil Hayworth.”
Sybil deeply curtsied. “Your Grace,” she said.
“Lady Sybil,” the dowager said, “I understand you are a stalwart and uncompromising ally of Miss Knightsbridge.”
Sybil rose and said, “If I were a man, I’d have… well, it’s no matter what I’d have done.”
“You’d have shot them all, I suspect,” the dowager said good-humoredly. “No less than they’d deserve, though for my grandson’s sake I am glad it will not come to it.”
“Your Grace,” Sybil said hurriedly, “I did not imply any harm to Lord Hampton, I only meant that I—”
“I comprehend you perfectly,” the Dowager said. “You are very like your mother—I see the Beaufort blood runs strong in your veins. Now do sit down, I understand you are fond of almond biscuits and Racine has brought enough to feed all of London.”
A very merry tea followed, as Cassandra noted that the dowager had an uncanny ability to put one at ease. She supposed it was that the dowager herself was
at ease and did not stand on ceremony. She had always thought that highly placed persons were as grim and staid as the marchioness—following strict rules of protocol. There was nothing grim or staid about the Dowager Duchess of Carlisle. Rather, the lady showed who she was, not who the world thought she should be.
Cassandra had a mind to do the same.
*
The next days at Marksworth House had the same feeling of energy that Cassandra had felt during the preparations for her wretched ball. The door was forever being answered, sometimes to admit Sybil and more often to receive yet another invitation. Some of the invitations did not even come with a date—Miss Knightsbridge was to choose whatever day she deemed most convenient.
The dowager had chosen a dress for Cassandra while they had still remained in Surrey, it was a white silk with very little adornment. Cassandra assumed the dowager chose it for its message of youthful innocence. Peggy had boldly suggested the pale blue gauze overlay, however upon noting the Dowager’s cold stare, had curtsied and bowed herself out of the room.
Cassandra had not seen the dress since it had been unpacked. The Dowager had taken it from her and then a seamstress had arrived and various boxes along with her. What the alterations were to be, Cassandra did not know.
To Racine’s dismay, George and May had firmly decided upon the sofa at the far end of the drawing room as being their own. Its blue velvet was continually covered in dog hair and as much as Racine ordered it cleaned, it was just covered again. Most of the shed hair belonged to George, as he maintained his dominance over May and claimed most of that piece of furniture. The two dogs spent their days thoroughly entertained—they relaxed on the sofa until somebody arrived at the door, then raced to the door practically knocking over Racine, then relaxed on the sofa again. To spice things up, there was always the diversion of launching at the windows to bark at passing carriages.
The viscount had arrived, and Cassandra felt him to be a great calming influence over the house. Whether it was his steady temperament or his utter lack of care for the opinions of the ton she could not say.
