Chapter Twelve
Lord Tramondeley motioned to Valor. Lady Letitia had the count cornered on some subject and was making liberal use of her fan on his unsuspecting arms. The duke and Lord Ledderbey had gone off to a sideboard and then intended to find some chairs, as neither one of them cared for endlessly standing around.
Lord Tramondeley surreptitiously held his arm out. Valor laid her hand upon it, and they fairly tiptoed away. The lord led them toward some of the other rooms. Once out of earshot, he said, “Would it be ungentlemanly to say I wished to get away from Lady Letitia?”
“I expect so,” Valor said with a laugh.
“Well I did. I will say something worse—I do not like her and if I never saw her again I could very happily go on with my life. She’s too…everything.”
“That is very severe, my lord,” Valor said in a scolding tone.
Really, she did not care, as she did not imagine her own life would be adversely affected by the absence of Lady Letitia.
That was not to condemn the lady, but to only recognize that not every person suited every person.
Or as Mrs. Right sometimes said, not every lid would fit every teapot.
“I think I’m too much a Cornwall man for all these delicate graces. I cannot go prancing through my life like your count.”
Your count? What did that mean? Was Lord Tramondeley jealous? It was a rather lovely prospect.
“I take no ownership of Count di Compressio,” she said.
“Good.”
Valor had to admit that gave her a thrill. He said it so forcefully too. They had just turned into a music room, lit with dim candles like every other room in Lady Jellerbey’s house. A few people occupied the room and a lady desultorily picked out keys on the pianoforte.
“Where have they gone?” Lady Letitia’s loud voice rang out.
Lord Tramondeley pulled Valor to the other side of a heavy oak cabinet. They pressed themselves against the wall.
“No, not in here,” Lady Letitia said. “Come, Count. I cannot think how our party was separated but we must find Tramondeley—he will long to hear the anecdote about my horse.”
Valor stood close to Lord Tramondeley as they hid on the other side of the cabinet. She could feel the heat of him and the scent of fresh-laundered linen. Her heart pounded over it.
Lord Tramondeley peered round the cabinet. “It’s safe. She’s gone.”
They stepped back into the open and Valor thought it really was well that the room was so dim. Anybody observing them hiding would have wondered about it. They might have found it shocking.
“Lord Tramondeley,” she said, “I really must inquire. If you are willing to hide from the lady, how did you come to invite her to your Cornwall party?”
Rather than answer, the lord just looked at her with his brows raised.
“Oh I see,” Valor said. She presumed Lady Letitia had somehow invited herself.
“Exactly,” Lord Tramondeley said. “Now, let us discover how long we can keep up this game of cat and mouse.”
And so they did. It really turned into quite the entertaining game.
Lady Letitia would come one way and they slip off the other way.
Lady Letitia all but interrogated some of Lady Jellerbey’s guests regarding their location.
The lady was told several times that they’d been recently seen but nobody knew what direction they went.
Lady Letitia stalked the rooms like a hunter after a stag, getting more irate by the minute and beginning to blame the count for losing Lord Tramondeley.
Valor at one point heard the count reply that he was not Tramondeley’s governess.
At one point, they even hid behind a pair of curtains and Lord Tramondeley had made her laugh by his hope that the duke would not set them on fire.
Finally, they had returned to the duke and Lord Ledderbey. Lady Letitia and the count came upon them and Lady Letitia gave them a proper scolding. The count just looked annoyed.
Valor and Lord Tramondeley claimed they’d just been walking from room to room and could not imagine how they’d not encountered one another.
What a perfectly smashing evening.
*
As they made their way home from the candlelight picnic, Weston thought back on slipping from room to room, always just out of reach of the count and Lady Letitia.
He’d been bold about his comments regarding his wish to avoid Lady Letitia.
Lady Valor had scolded him over it but it had been a half-hearted sort of scold.
He’d avoided mentioning he wished to avoid the count too. Fortunately, Lady Valor did not seem as if she missed his company very much. She had been a willing accomplice in their cat and mouse game.
“Well, my boy, I sang your praises to Lady Valor this evening whether you wished me to or not. I must tell you, she was exceedingly approving of it. Of you. But for the night sailing. She is convinced your luck will run out one night and that will be the end of you. She specifically mentioned the habit so I think we can conclude it has been much on the lady’s mind. ”
Weston had nodded but not responded. It was a very good sign that she was approving of whatever praise Lord Ledderbey had handed out.
He supposed it was not surprising that she would express concern over his habit of harrying the French.
Perhaps she was concerned she would end a widow, which would mean she’d considered a wedding.
He’d retired to his room when they arrived to the house. As Stockton undressed him, he said, “Do you think these forays we’ve done to harass the French…well, do you think they’ve been necessary? Or have they been me attempting to prove I’ve contributed something to the war effort?”
“Can’t it be both?” Stockton answered.
“I don’t know. Lord Ledderbey thinks it is more my own vanity that has caused it. He does not outright say so but I think that’s what he means. He says the navy is well able to keep track of the French and harass them when they like.”
Stockton shrugged. “I’ve never thought too deeply about it, my lord. I guess I just thought it was fun.”
“It was fun, was it not?” Weston said. “Apparently, though, it is not a wise sort of fun for a duke’s heir. Especially if that heir wishes to wed.”
“Are you wishing to wed?” Stockton asked.
“Possibly.”
“Not to the loud one, though?”
“No, not the loud one.”
“Your duke’s daughter, then.”
“Yes.”
“Even though some foreigner has been skulking around Cornwall, trying to track you down? I doubt he’s looking for you only to have a polite conversation. I don’t think a duke’s daughter will like that very much.”
“No, that matter must be resolved before anything can go forward. I am almost certain it was the Count di Compressio. Once I get his portrait, it goes to Cornwall to be confirmed and then sent to the navy.”
“Does he know it’s you, though? What I say is, you may know it’s him, but does he know you’re the Mosquito?”
“I am not certain. He might. This evening, I asked him if he’d ever been to Cornwall. He looked surprised, and a bit rattled, as if I’d caught him out.”
“Rattling the cage of somebody looking to do you harm is usually not a good idea,” Stockton pointed out.
“Well perhaps not, but it’s done now.”
“Mr. Malberry and I have hired trained men to act as your waiters for the trays of food that are to go round at this Cornwall party. If there is any trouble, they’ll be droppin’ those trays and stepping into the fray.”
“Let’s hope there is no fray,” Weston said. “Lady Valor is already spooked enough over my lifestyle.”
“But you’re gonna change the lifestyle.”
“I think at this point I must. I must find another way to harry the French that does not involve such personal danger. It’s been pointed out that I am irresponsible in doing it. I just do not know what we can do otherwise yet, but there must be something.”
“Aye, we’ll think of something,” Stockton said. “It’s become a regular hobby to be a thorn in their sides. We had ’em spooked. Spooked sailors are bad sailors.”
Weston agreed. He hoped they could think of something that was both effective and not a risk to his person. It was going to be a delicate balance between ensuring that Lady Valor felt secure and ensuring the French felt insecure.
In the meantime, he reflected on the evening. He’d escorted Lady Valor round Lady Jellerbey’s rooms, sweeping her away while the count was not looking. Lady Letitia had the count cornered and was firing off questions about his Sardinian villa when Weston suggested they take a turn.
Among other interesting things they’d talked about, Lady Valor mentioned that the duke considered his door open to his heir and he was to be free to walk over at any time.
The duke thought that even though he’d been to dine, he ought to have a closer look at the house and poke around the rooms as he would be the master of it someday.
Weston said he’d nothing planned for the following day, so maybe he would. Lady Valor had nodded in approval.
So, that’s what he would do. He should probably bring flowers of some sort.
He had a vague idea that was done as a usual thing.
Last evening, he’d asked her what colors she most favored.
She’d said very dark blue and sunny orange.
Lord Ledderbey had an abundance of marigolds around the estate in Cornwall and they were exceedingly orange.
He left them in pots and claimed that pests were repelled by them.
Certainly, a florist must have them.
*
Damiano was rarely in a state of being unsure what move to make. He did find himself in that attitude at the moment, though. He harbored not even a shred of a doubt now that Lord Tramondeley was the Mosquito.
Worse though, he now had the suspicion that Tramondeley might know or at least suspect that it had been him snooping round the coast, looking for the sloop.