Page 33 of Lady Daring
“Why, Hetty,” she exclaimed as her stepdaughter entered the room. “That gown becomes you! My dear, you are quite transformed.”
“We must never let Duprix return to France,” Henrietta said, kissing her stepmother on the cheek. “I heard Dearbody showing Mr. Stokes to the door, so I suppose Papa will join us soon?”
On the word, the man of the house appeared. Darien steeled himself for the next test of the evening. But there was barely time for Sir Jasper to greet Darien before the front door opened again and a female cry of dismay floated up the stairs.
“An abomination, I tell you, sir! A vulgarity not to be borne! Oh,whereis my niece? I have a thing or two I must say to her!”
Marsibel sent her cousin an apprehensive look. “Hetty, I meant to warn you, but I forgot?—”
“Never mind that,” Henrietta said, straightening her shoulders. Darien’s eyes dipped to the interesting effect this had on her bosom. She faced the door as Lady Pomeroy entered with an anguished cry, shaking a folded newspaper in the air.
“Henrietta Eglantine Wardley-Hines! Howcouldyou?”
Her ladyship checked her tirade, gaze hardening as she recognized the infamous Lord Daring, then darting to Marsibel, who looked lovely and angelic. Clarinda made the introductions, and then, though anyone could see that Lady Pomeroy wished for her dramatic entrance to be forgotten, inquired, “But what has upset you, dear Althea? I do hope it is nothing too bad. Hetty, my love, do try to remember all that we owe Althea for taking you in hand and launching you on your first Season. We are a great deal indebted to her.”
“This,” Lady Pomeroy said, crumpling the paper in her gloved fist. “This…advert. Jasper! Did you know anything of this?”
“I’m sorry to say I’ve been in meetings all day,” Jasper said in a genial tone. “What have you done now, Hetty?”
“My debate topic was printed today,” Henrietta said, her chin set in a familiar way.
“And she’s been receiving flowers in the dozens because of it.” Clarinda beamed. “Surely you must have noticed, my love?”
Lady Pomeroy smoothed the paper and read, “To be discussed at the next meeting of the Minerva Society:What is the appropriate response of dependents when those charged to protect them fail in their duty?”
Darien stiffened. Was this an accusation toward him about Celeste?
“Oh, I say.” Jasper grinned at his daughter. “You’re bound to set up some backs with that, pet.”
“Jasper! I wish you would not encourage her! What can she be thinking? What will Pitt say? Or the King? We will be thought Jacobins, all of us!” Lady Pomeroy cried.
Jasper turned to his brother-in-law. “What do you think, Pell? Will my daughter be hauled off in chains?” Darien sensed a serene lack of distress in the inquiry.
Sir Pelton cleared his throat. “Pitt’s in a fury at France for declaring war on the Holy Roman Empire. I imagine he’ll take notice if he senses a challenge to the King’s authority. That incident of the closet has everyone on eggshells, though it finally got Pitt’s mind off Russia.”
“Incident of the closet?” Jasper asked, pouring drinks. Darien accepted one, though Rufie did not. Rufie, silent beside Marsibel, looked flushed and dazed, but Darien had greater things to worry about than his cousin’s inadequacy in fine company. He had to make a strong impression on Sir Pelton.
“You didn’t hear?” Pelton took the glass of sherry his host offered. “Some guards found a set of breeches in a closet in the House of Parliament. They’d been set afire, a sure effort to try to burn the place down, and everyone in it. Pitt’s calling it treason and trying to blame it on Charles James Fox and his crowd. I’m bound he’ll be monitoring all the assemblies very closely now.”
“Good Lord. Burning breeches?” Charleton turned on his sister. “Hetty, you know Pitt’s got his eye on that Corresponding Society. Bunch of rowdy cobblers and blacksmiths who ought to stick to their trades. Best have nothing to do with them.”
“My debate is hosted by the Minerva Society, and there will be nothing seditious in it,” Henrietta said with a stubbornness Darien was beginning to recognize. “My points are taken mostly from Miss Wollstonecraft. Mr. Pitt will see that, should he choose to attend. Perhaps a ticket might be provided for him.”
“Well, my girl, should you get dragged off by the constable, I’ll post bail,” Jasper promised and topped off Sir Pelton’s drink.
Darien hid his smile behind his glass. Yes, Sir Jasper seemed quite accustomed to his lively daughter getting up scrapes.
“Jasper,” Lady Pomeroy cried again. “You cannot take this so lightly. Think of the scandal! How it could reflect on our name.”
Henrietta bit her lip. “Lady Bess thinks my topic will draw a splendid crowd.”
Darien raked his mind. Lady Bess must be the Countess Bessington, a famed London hostess, confirmed friend of the Blue Stocking circle, and well known as the ruling force behind several reforming organizations. He was not surprised Henrietta had been caught up in her orbit.
Jasper shrugged. “Bess set a store on your mother, so I doubt she’ll steer you astray. Pell! Have you heard what happened to Hetty’s mill? We suspect Steppenfield set the fire, the skunk.”
This drew the menfolk off in conversation, leaving Lady Pomeroy to confront the unexpected guests. Darien stiffened his back as her icy glare fixed on him.
“Lord Darien,” she said. “What a surprise to find you here. I trust…” She trailed off, at a loss for safe conversational ground.
