Chapter Eleven
Weston had the carriage called but had it wait outside the house while he kept an eye on the duke’s house from across the square.
He intended to arrive at the same time that Lady Valor did.
He wished to avoid being commandeered by Lady Letitia, and he wished to prevent Lady Valor from being commandeered by the count.
He saw her come out of the house in a pretty blue pelisse with flashes of pale-yellow silk underneath it. He helped Lord Ledderbey into the carriage and they set off behind the duke’s coach.
“Now my boy,” Lord Ledderbey said, after having observed the operation, “it is clear as day that you prefer Lady Valor to any other lady.”
“Perhaps,” he said.
“I wonder, do you hesitate because of the duke? If that is all, I would not consider it a hindrance. You need not move into the Dales with the fellow.”
“But then perhaps when we can return to Cornwall, when it’s safe to do so, she would not like it. I do not get the sense that she approves of my nighttime sails.”
“No lady is going to approve of that,” Lord Ledderbey pointed out.
Weston had not thought of it that way. He’d not mentioned it to any other lady so he could not say what their views on it might be.
“If you will wed, and I do think it is high time, you must seriously rethink how far you go to risk your person. A lady puts her life in the hands of a gentleman and as a bare minimum expects him to keep himself alive. Otherwise, she is a widow living on a jointure. Furthermore, if you are not to be the duke’s heir and produce an issue to carry on the line, God only knows what will happen to it.
You have duties other than spying for England, my boy.
I am sure the admiral would agree if he were still with us. ”
Weston did not respond, as the admiral had agreed when he lived. He had several times urged Weston to give it up. The information he gathered was helpful, but not so helpful as to risk the life of a duke’s heir. The admiral had counseled that he did not wish to have a tragedy laid at his door.
When Weston had begun the habit of trailing after frigates, it seemed impossible that any tragedy could occur.
He’d been sixteen and no sixteen-year-old was capable of considering their own mortality.
He would live forever it seemed. Of course, he was older now, and could consider it, but he’d continued with the night sails out of a sense of duty.
Did not other men risk their lives in service to England?
Why should he be exempt just because he was an heir presumptive to a duke?
“My boy, we are even now wondering if the count is the same person who was in Cornwall looking for you and the sloop. You cannot put a lady into a situation so dangerous. If you wish to wed, you must get out of this business.”
He supposed it was something to think about if he were set on Lady Valor. Considering how darkly he looked upon the attentions of the count to that lady, perhaps he was set on her. He’d not expected it to be so, but there it was.
“My advice? Do not pass up a chance at a good life by continuing an effort that does not really need to be done. Our navy is well able to track the French. Furthermore, do not pass up a chance at happiness just to spite the duke,” Lord Ledderbey said.
Weston was a bit stung by the idea that the navy could get on perfectly well without him. Was it true? If it was true, then had his forays into the night only been some sort of self-gratifying operation?
As for spiting the duke. Well, if he’d been asked that while he was still in Cornwall, he’d have gone all in for spite. Now though, he’d lost most of his rancor for the man. The Duke of Pelham really was too eccentric and odd for him to carry on with it.
They had pulled up behind the duke’s carriage at Lady Jellerbey’s front doors. He did not wait for the groom but leapt out of the carriage and put the step down for Lord Ledderbey. He gave him his arm to steady him and called over. “Your Grace. Lady Valor.”
She was looking exceedingly pretty. She gave him one of her pretty smiles. Yes, he thought he must be set. He’d just chased her carriage to a party, what else could he be? He would just have to think about giving up his nighttime activities, which seemed rather hard, but probably necessary.
“Tramondeley, Ledderbey,” the duke said. “We must have left at exactly the same time.”
Weston got the feeling the duke was not particularly fooled by the coincidence. He was eccentric, but he did not miss much.
“It seems so,” he said.
“I suspect we had the same idea of when we ought to leave,” Lord Ledderbey said, attempting to offer cover.
“No doubt,” the duke said with a smirk. “Well, here you are. I suppose you can lead my daughter inside?”
The duke was a master at throwing him toward Lady Valor. He did not mind being thrown. He held out his arm to Lady Valor. She laid her delicate gloved hand upon it.
“Have you ever been to a candlelight picnic held indoors, Lord Tramondeley?” she asked.
He laughed. “No, I did not imagine such a thing existed.”
“Yes, I suppose it is a bit eccentric, though my father finds it amusing.”
Weston supposed the duke would find anything eccentric amusing. He might not even notice it was eccentric.
“We did get your party invitation and of course we will come. My father and I are very interested in discovering the nature of a Cornwall traditional party.”
Ah, yes. He had said that was what it was. “It is nothing special really. Just a small party with sketch artists and a violinist and trays of food. Tables for cards and games if anyone wishes to play. Cornwall people are rather straightforward.”
“Oh, the trays coming round. That is something Lady Darlington does at her annual masque. It is not a ball, nor a dinner. Just trays, quiet music, and admiring and voting on the costumes. At least, that is how it’s been described to me, as my sisters go every year.”
“Indeed, I do recall that invitation came to the house.”
“How serendipitous that you should have rented a house on our very square.”
He looked at Lady Valor in surprise. He was on the verge of informing her that he’d not done so, the duke had done it, when that very duke interrupted them.
“Lady Jellerbey,” he said jovially. “Look who I’ve brought with me. My youngest, Lady Valor, the last of that endless string of daughters to be launched out of my house. And here is Lord Tramondeley, my heir, and his friend Lord Ledderbey.”
“You are all very welcome,” Lady Jellerbey said, looking fondly at the duke. “I do hope you will keep an eye on His Grace and ensure he does not set my curtains ablaze again.”
To no surprise to Weston, this fairly staggered Lord Ledderbey. The duke found it hilarious. “You see, I was demonstrating how I once set Lady Vanderwake’s curtains on fire and did it all over again. I probably do not have to say that Lady Jellerbey’s claret is very good.”
No, he probably did not have to say.
“Go on, you devil of a duke,” Lady Jellerbey said merrily, “you will find an ample supply of that particular drink on my sideboards.”
“God save the King and Queen, and God save Lady Jellerbey’s curtains,” the duke said, laughing, and strolled off.
He really was a strange fellow. People seemed either to find him amusing or enraging. Weston was not yet sure where he would end up landing on the question. Perhaps both, depending on the moment.
As the duke made straight for a sideboard, Weston debated picking up the conversation with Lady Valor regarding the house he currently resided in. He decided to leave it alone. At least for now. If her father had not told her, perhaps he had his reasons.
They made their way forward, Lord Ledderbey squinting at the gloom.
None of Lady Jellerbey’s chandeliers were lit.
There were candelabras set on every surface and it reminded him of the house in Cornwall.
He and Lord Ledderbey could never be bothered to ask a servant to go through the palaver of lowering a chandelier to light it and then hoist it back up again only to lower it again to put out the candles.
It was easier to just carry the candelabras around, especially since Lord Ledderbey was in the habit of retiring to his bed with a book on the early side of things and Weston was out for most of the night.
“Lady Valor,” he said, “what can I get for you from the sideboard?”
“I think a glass of hock. My sister Felicity says Lady Jellerbey’s selection of them is very good quality.”
He set off for the sideboard, keeping an eye out for both the count and Lady Letitia. Really, Weston could hardly decide which of them was the bigger annoyance.
For now, he did not see either. Only the duke pouring himself a very liberal glass of claret and talking to some other lord while he pointed at the curtains and laughed.
Weston supposed he really ought to keep an eye on Lady Jellerbey’s curtains, considering how proud the duke appeared to have set them alight in the past.
*
Valor stood with Lord Ledderbey as Lord Tramondeley had gone off to fetch her a glass of wine.
Quite suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, Lord Ledderbey said, “I know you have only recently become acquainted with us, Lady Valor, but I hope you perceive the worth of Lord Tramondeley. He is a fine young man and it has been my honor to see him through his younger years and into his manhood.”
She was surprisingly touched by that. Of course, she did perceive his worth. It was just that one thing about him, the danger about him, that worried her.
“Lord Ledderbey,” she said boldly, “I am certain Lord Tramondeley is everything my father could have wished for in an heir. He will make a fine duke someday. Assuming he survives. But he does put himself in danger with this mad scheme to chase French frigates under cover of darkness.”