Chapter Six
Damiano had installed himself in Lady Tallifer’s house on Brook Street.
The lady was as he recalled—a small and fluttery woman who became nervous of silences and filled them with nonsense.
Nevertheless, she was exceedingly indulgent.
He had a very fine room, reasonably good dinners for England, and drinkable wine.
It was not up to his marquis’s standards but then, he did not expect it would be.
He’d informed her at once that he was here on his father’s business and would travel to their estate in Hertfordshire.
She’d spent days composing what ought to be in a picnic basket to take in the carriage and made a list of preferred inns.
Of course, he’d had no intention of traveling to Hertfordshire. Their steward at that estate did not require any supervision from him. Rather, he’d taken himself off to Cornwall to deal with the second reason for his trip. Locate the Mosquito and eliminate the operation.
He’d not been given a lot to go on. Just where the pier was that the sloop used for docking and the direction the carriage departing the pier traveled before disappearing behind hills.
It would have been helpful if somebody had told him what he could expect from the people of Cornwall. His experience so far was that they were surly, inscrutable, gave away nothing, did not like his questions, and did not trust foreigners.
The pier where the infamous sloop was meant to be was empty of sloops and only housed some very rickety-looking fishing vessels. He’d inquired about the sloop from a fellow who looked after the small shack associated with it and got an earful.
Why did he want to know? Why was some foreigner to come snooping around the neighborhood? Who did he know in this neighborhood? Could anybody vouch for him? Where did he stay?
Then, the fellow had squinted his eyes and asked him if he worked for Napoleon. Which was hitting a bit close to home. While London was cosmopolitan and encountering people from other countries was not unusual, it appeared to engender deep suspicion here.
He’d given up inquiring as he began to worry that he’d be attacked by a crowd of these local people.
He’d already been forced to move to another inn to escape the dark looks he got at the first one.
He satisfied himself with riding his horse in every conceivable direction leading away from the pier, searching for the abode that housed the Mosquito operation.
It did him no good. He passed by no end of houses and structures in various styles and sizes but there was nothing to give away the Mosquito. Further, where was the sloop?
He supposed that would be the report—the boat was gone and the man who sailed it could not be identified. He imagined the good news was that perhaps the fleet would not be further harassed by the sloop. Perhaps the Mosquito had been spooked or had a close call and decided to take cover.
It really felt like a pointless trip and he could not get back to London soon enough.
If he could do nothing about the Mosquito, he could at least find a bride.
Lady Tallifer had pulled on some connections and got a voucher to Almack’s for him.
He was certain Lady Valor would be there, among every other eligible lady in Town.
As the marquis was insistent on a duke’s daughter, his targets must be Lady Valor, Lady Letitia, and Lady Elizabeth.
Lady Tallifer said that Lady Elizabeth was expected to engage herself shortly, so he might be down to two choices.
One was at least acceptable and the other would be a lifelong trial.
In any case, while Lady Valor’s company was not scintillating, it was far more preferable to these surly Cornwall people who all looked as if they were on the verge of shooting him.
Further, he was tiring of waitstaff who slammed his plate in front of him, watered down his wine, and then smirked when he noticed it.
These uncultured beasts clearly wished to drive him out and he was perfectly amenable to being driven out.
If he never saw Cornwall again it would too soon.
*
Valor had donned her coat with Serenity, Mrs. Right, and Thomas and they set off across the square. It was decided that Thomas must come with his pocket violin, else how could they properly dance with no music?
Really, Valor did not understand why her father had arranged it at all.
If Lord Tramondeley required instruction on dancing, he ought to hire a dancing master.
That’s what the duke had done, and then he ensured that they all received the booklets each year from renowned dancing masters showing the new dances of the season so they would have ample time to practice.
The early years had been filled with seven sisters taking turns acting as the gentleman.
Then one by one, their numbers dwindled.
Mrs. Right had been her partner in preparing for this season.
As much as she was against it, the duke had committed his youngest daughter as the lord’s dancing instructress and there was nothing for it.
As he had, she had been heads together with Serenity and had come to some conclusions.
They would teach Lord Tramondeley the various steps for the cotillion, Scottish reel, and quadrille, and leave him two booklets from Mr. Wilson—The Supplement to the Treasures of Terpsichore and An Analysis of Country Dances.
She would also provide him with some cards she had written out, showing the likeliest dances and steps.
The waltz would not be danced at Almack’s so if Lord Tramondeley wished to know anything about it, he could inquire elsewhere.
Valor knew perfectly well how it was done but did not choose to find herself in such close quarters with the gentleman.
He was a beautiful specimen of a man, but it could not be overlooked that he was not right in the head. Nobody with any sense went sailing into danger in the dark.
It was a very fine day by London standards. There was a brisk breeze that blew away the noxious fumes and fog that often hovered over the town.
As they walked across the square, Serenity said, “I know these paths better than I know my own name. Remember, Valor, it was on these paths that Thorpe and I fell in love while walking our dogs.”
Of course, Valor did remember perfectly well.
She’d spent those walks attempting to break them apart.
They would walk ahead, Serenity walking Nelson on one side and Thorpe walking Havoc on the other side and their hands brushing.
It had been like a large wave rolling toward shore—no matter what outrageous thing she said or did there’d been no way to turn it round.
“I could just cry to think of it,” Serenity said.
“Oh do not cry now, Serenity,” Valor said. “Not when I need you to help me with this ridiculous project.”
Serenity mopped her eyes. “I know you are very against it, but do you not think Lord Tramondeley very handsome?”
“I think he is exceptionally handsome, but I do not see how that signifies.”
“It is generally the beginning of the thing, is what I think Serenity says,” Mrs. Right put in.
“But Serenity,” Valor said, “you know that for me I look for something else. Something else that is more important.”
Serenity nodded. “Safety, as you always have.”
“That’s right, and did you know that Lord Tramondeley goes out in a sailboat, at night, in the sea, to look for the French and harass them?”
“Goodness, no,” Serenity said. “I had wondered what he was doing with himself in Cornwall as he’s never bothered to learn how to dance. I thought he might be fishing all day.”
“Chasing the French on a boat at night. Have you ever heard of anything more outlandish and as likely to lead to death?” Valor asked. “To think, a person looks out upon a vast and dark sea and knows the enemy lurks out there somewhere and thinks he ought to raise the sails and go find them?”
“Perhaps he’s not the right gentleman for you, then,” Mrs. Right said. “Anyway, Poppet, such an important decision on how you are to spend the rest of your life does not need to be made in one season. You have all the time in the world.”
“That’s right, I really do. I do not have to rush into anything, no matter who I meet,” Valor said. She had thought the very same more than a few times. Her papa would not mind it if she were to require a second season to be really certain of the gentleman who would suit.
“Well, I find it a shame. When I first saw him, I was certain you would be struck.”
Valor did not answer. The truth was, she had been struck. He was devilishly handsome and she’d enjoyed talking to him quite a bit. Except for the part of the conversation where he revealed himself to be a madman intent on personal destruction.
They had reached Lord Tramondeley’s doorstep all too soon.
The butler had clearly been keeping an eye out as the door swung open before they used the knocker.
That gentleman was at first at a loss over what to do with Thomas, but he concluded that he would lead him to the ballroom and fetch him some ale while he waited.
Thomas appeared enormously agreeable to the plan, as he was not at all used to being led to a ballroom and given ale in the middle of the afternoon.
Valor, Serenity, and Mrs. Right were led into the drawing room to find Lord Tramondeley and Lord Ledderbey waiting for them.
Lord Tramondeley said, “I fear this has been an imposition, Lady Valor.”
She shook her head no, but she did not have any words in response because it was very much an imposition.
As she thought that, though, she could not help noticing how well he looked in his morning coat.
She suspected he’d look even more spectacular in riding clothes.
Most gentlemen looked very well in their riding clothes.