Page 10 of One Perfect Dance
Miss Milton didn’t. “Miss Kingsley is the daughter of a viscount,” she pointed out. “Her mother is acquainted with most of the great ladies of Society. And my grandmother, who is also a viscountess, knows the rest.”
The three bullies exchanged glances. Miss Wharton tossed her head. “If you mention this to anyone, I will make you pay,” she promised.
A threat with very few teeth.Regina ignored it. “Go away, ladies. And send the maid back. We need her to help Miss Milton make repairs.”
“You haven’t heard the last of this,” Miss Plumfield growled.
Regina, who was examining the damage to Miss Milton’s sleeve, turned around at that. “What on earth is wrong with you? Do you want to be treated as a pariah by the whole of Society? For I promise you, that is what will happen if I tell my mother what happened here, and she passes it on to her friends. Now apologize to Miss Milton and get you gone.”
Miss Wharton opened her mouth, but Miss Fairchild tugged on her arm, and Miss Plumfield said, “Come on, Estelle. The silly bitch is not worth it.”
As the door closed behind them, Miss Milton commented, “Though you be but little, Miss Kingsley, you are fierce.”
“I think that is a compliment,” Regina suggested.
“It is. Very much so. Also, a quote from Shakespeare. Thank you for coming to my rescue. Will they really make trouble?”
“I expect they will try,” Regina said. “Do you want me to talk to my mother? It is just that, if I do, they will almost certainly be exiled, at least for the rest of the year. But their friends will not. And Miss Fairchild’s mother—Miss Plumfield’s aunt, too—will hold a grudge.”
“And Miss Wharton’s mother?” Miss Milton asked.
“Her aunt,” Regina corrected. “According to my mother, Miss Wharton senior does not care for her niece, and has few connections within theTon.”
While she was speaking, Regina had used the card of pins she carried in her reticule to pin up the torn sleeve and the lace that had been ripped off the bodice. “Sit down, Miss Milton, and I will put your hair back up.”
“You are being very kind,” Miss Milton commented. “We hardly know one another.”
“I hate bullies,” Regina repeated. “Besides, I have seen you at several entertainments and thought you had a kind face. But I did not know anyone to introduce us.”
Miss Milton smiled. “I have seen you, too, and thought you were too beautiful and popular to be nice. I do apologize for that.” She held out her hand. “How do you do, Miss Kingsley. I am Cordelia Milton, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Please,” Regina said. “Call me Regina.”
She had made enemies this evening. But perhaps she had also found a friend.
Chapter Five
Paris, May 1802
Ash nudged Rexin the side. “She’s looking at you, Rex.”
Rex, who had been peering at the boxes on the other side of the theater, turned his attention to the line of dancers performing the part of Greek maidens inIphigénie en Aulide. He waggled his fingers at the third girl from the end. Rex had hired a box at theThéâtre de la République et des Artsfor their stay in Paris. It was close enough to the stage that Ash could see the girl wink in their direction.
Ash was touched by the emotion and the music, though—after two months in France—he was still having trouble following French in everyday speech. Declaimed or sung from the stage, it was largely impenetrable. Although, this particular opera might be in Italian or German, since Ash was finding it more difficult to follow than usual.
“I will send Monsieur Mitterrand at the interval, with my invitation to supper,” Rex decided. He had been courting this dancer for the past three weeks, taking flowers to her in the dressing room set aside for the dancers and the chorus, sending her little presents, joining her and others of the company when they gathered after a performance for food and drink.
In Ash’s opinion, Mademoiselle Giselle Tremblay had long since made up her mind to accept the English milord as a protector, but Rex had told Ash that it was not wise to hurry the pursuit. “There is more to choosing a mistress than looks,” he lectured Ash. “My father says that many a young man has come to grief by allowing his whiffles to negotiate for him.”
Apparently, the duke, as protective as ever, had given his convalescent son detailed instructions on how to be a customer for commercial sex, including bringing in a tutoress to provide practical experience in the physical aspects of the practice. Ash, who had not so much as stolen a kiss from a girl, was not sure whether to be appalled or envious.
The duke’s wisdom, as passed on by his son, said the disposition and habits of a mistress contributed greatly to a protector’s happiness during the term of the arrangement. “Within obvious limits,” Rex quoted, “one should treat a fashionable impure with the same respect as a lady. They don’t expect it, so are all the more grateful.”
Ash found the duke’s self-serving cynicism chilling but didn’t say so. Rex regarded his father with an uncomfortable combination of worship and resentment, and any implied criticism was unlikely to be well received.
Rex went back to examining the audience. He was looking for people he knew. While he had not participated in the London Season or been away to school, he had grown up attending house parties with his parents and had made a spare at his mother’s dinner parties whenever he was well enough since he was seventeen.
“I swear, a good third of the audience are British,” he told Ash.
