Chapter Thirteen
“The Duke of Rotherfeld and Lady Louisa Petty!”
It bothered Louisa still that Daniel had publicly announced their engagement at a well-attended ball and not quietly in the newspapers, because now everyone in the ton knew they were engaged. It made breaking the engagement more difficult, but Louisa was beginning to wonder if that was the idea.
Daniel escorted Louisa into the Atherton ballroom, and they greeted acquaintances on the way. Then she spotted the Earl of Waring speaking with the Marquess of Beresford, the latter in head-to-toe black.
Louisa had not seen Beresford in quite some time, but she knew Fletcher had gone to the Marchioness’s funeral. Seeing Beresford in mourning clothes was a bit jarring; he wore such colorful clothing normally.
“Let us greet the Marquess of Beresford. I have not seen him all Season.”
“Oh. Ah, or we could dance.”
“Do you not like Beresford?”
“We, er, don’t know each other well. I haven’t spoken to him in ages.”
“Humor me. His wife just died. I believe this is the first time he’s really been out all Season. I should like to pay my respects.”
Louisa didn’t know Beresford well, but she knew Lark, since he was a close friend of Fletcher’s. She saw no reason why she should not speak to them. She basically dragged Daniel over to where they stood.
She greeted them. Lark took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Lovely to see you, Lady Louisa.”
Daniel cleared his throat behind her.
“Lord Waring, Lord Beresford, I believe you know my fiancé, the Duke of Rotherfeld.”
Lark raised an eyebrow and said, “Rotherfeld. Good to see you again.”
Daniel put a possessive hand on Louisa’s waist. “Waring.” He turned toward Beresford. “Anthony. Condolences for your recent loss.”
The use of Beresford’s Christian name in such a formal setting struck Louisa as a little odd. Did Daniel know him better than he let on? And if so, why would he lie about that?
“Thank you, Your Grace,” said Beresford. “I must say, I can’t recall the last time we ran into each other. I have not been out much this season, but I don’t recall seeing you in a few years.”
“I spent a year on the Continent after the last time we saw each other. And perhaps we move in different circles now.”
“Perhaps.” But Beresford had a mischievous glint in his eye. “When is the wedding?”
“A fortnight. Saturday.”
“Oh, that will be lovely. The weather is starting to get warmer, so it won’t be too cold. I am fond of London at this time of year.”
“Right.”
Beresford seemed to be on a roll. “Oh, I’ve just recalled the last time we saw each other.” He glanced at Louisa and winked. Winked! “The house party in Kent in ’14. Was it at Lord Roscoe’s estate?”
“It was,” Daniel ground out through his teeth.
“That whole party was a scandal. Too much for this delicate lady’s ears.”
Lark stared at Beresford. “Do I want to know?”
“I assure you, you do not.”
“A folly of my misspent youth,” Daniel said to Louisa. “You do not want to know, either.”
Of course, that only piqued Louisa’s curiosity.
“My dear Lady Louisa,” Beresford said. “Please save me a dance. I’d like the full experience of attending a ball and have not danced with anyone since my late wife.”
“Oh. Of course, my lord.”
Beresford claimed a dance on Louisa’s dance card. Lark did, too, although she suspected he just did because he didn’t know what else to do. Daniel grunted and escorted her away.
“You are much in demand.”
“You’d be smart to claim the dance you want now, then.” She held up her card.
Daniel claimed a waltz.
Louisa spent the next half hour dancing, mostly with Daniel, but also with Lark and with Hugh, and at last with Beresford, who took the opportunity to tell her, “I don’t mean to create trouble between you and your fiancé.”
“Somehow, I do not believe you.”
“If perhaps I choose to highlight a few unsavory bits of Rotherfeld’s past, it is only because Fletcher wants to antagonize him, and I am fond of Fletcher.”
“I am fond of Fletcher, too.”
“Perhaps not in the same way.”
“No,” she conceded. “Fletcher aside, I am confused, because either your implication about what happened in Kent is not what I think it is, or Rotherfeld lied to me.”
“I will concede that the adventures at Lord Roscoe’s party were perhaps not what you’re thinking or anything you could conceive of, so it is perhaps not the sort of trouble you might have asked him about in the past. And truly, I exaggerated, it is not so bad.
Mostly too much drink and young men behaving egregiously, as young men are wont to do. ”
“I cannot parse ‘behaving egregiously.’”
“Perhaps Rotherfeld will share the details with you some day, but honestly, they are not important. And, anyway, I’ve always found Rotherfeld rather prudish, so it is possible I misbehaved and he was just…also there.”
“That I believe.”
“Ha.” Beresford winked again.
As they walked off the floor, Louisa said, “I am deeply sorry for your loss. It must have been terrible.”
“It was, it was. And I miss her dearly. But my baby son has been a bright light. Lark—that is, Lord Waring—has agreed to be his godfather. I can send you the details about the christening if you like, although you might be on your honeymoon by then.”
“We are not leaving London until the end of the Season.”
“Splendid. And you can leave Rotherfeld at home if he’d prefer not to attend a christening, although I should disclose that Young Master Henry is extremely adorable and he will make you want to have a brood of your own children as soon as possible.”
Louisa laughed. “I look forward to seeing him, then.”
“I could use something to drink and perhaps a card game. If you’ll excuse me.” Beresford bowed deeply and then left.
Louisa looked around. She spotted Daniel speaking with a man she did not recognize. They laughed together, and Daniel put a hand on the man’s arm in a way that looked oddly…familiar? More than that. Not merely friendly. Flirtatious? Intimate? Was this the school mate he’d mentioned?
Louisa approached slowly.
“It was so muddy, and his boots were so thoroughly stuck, that when he walked forward, his boots came clean off, leaving him with just his stockinged feet in the mud,” the man was saying.
“Oh, dear,” Daniel said, still laughing. Then he spotted Louisa. “Richard, this is my fiancée, Lady Louisa Petty. Louisa, this is my dear old friend, Lieutenant Richard Hanley.”
Louisa allowed her knuckles to be kissed, and then said, “Hanley?” She searched her mental list of peerage names. “Any relation to the Earl of Chatterton?”
“My older brother,” said Mr. Hanley.
“Richard serves with His Majesty’s Army. He fought at Waterloo.”
“Oh, indeed. That is remarkable. How heroic of you.”
Hanley smiled and nodded.
“Do you still serve?”
“I do, although we are not presently at war. Mostly I turn up at a camp outside London every few months to march around and do drills.”
“In case we do go to war?”
“Yes, although that is not currently a pending possibility as far as I know.”
Louisa nodded and searched her mind for a topic. “You do not normally live in London?” Louisa could not recall ever seeing him before.
“No, I prefer the country. I generally stay at Chatterton House, which is well north of London.”
“Are you married?”
“Louisa, you need not…”
But Hanley smiled. “It’s all right. I am not married. Although I am afraid of the debutantes’ mothers, so let’s not spread that information too far.”
Louisa smiled, mostly to be polite. “If you change your mind about that, put your uniform on. The women of the ton would swoon for you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Daniel was giving her a look like he wanted her to shut up. Perhaps she had spoken too much or pushed too far, but Hanley did not seem offended.
Still. “Well, I will leave your gents to your conversation and go see if I can find some lemonade.”
“Do not stray too far, my love,” said Daniel.
“I won’t.”
She walked over to the refreshments table, wondering the whole way what the relationship between Daniel and Richard really was. Likely they were just old friends, but she’d never seen Daniel behave that way with anyone.
She was probably inventing things, drawing ridiculous conclusions, but as she poured herself a lemonade, she found herself looking around for Fletcher. They may be on the outs right now, but he’d be honest with her if he knew anything.
* * *
Anthony tossed his cards on the table after making a disgusted grunt. “Every last one of you cheats.”
“Beresford is just mad because he forgot how to count cards,” said Atherton, raking in his winnings.
“It’s true. I am out of practice at fleecing you all out of your money.” Anthony yawned. “Let me just say, though, that this one night of freedom has been a delight. Having an infant at home is no jest.”
“Lady Atherton didn’t get a good night’s sleep for a year after our daughter was born,” Atherton agreed.
“I worry constantly I will do something wrong, and my poor son will grow up to be, I don’t know, an eccentric. A circus performer. An accountant.”
“Perish the thought,” said Lark, counting his scant winnings.
Anthony stood. “Well, gents, now that you have all of my coin, I do believe it might be time to call it a night.”
Everyone else followed Anthony’s lead, collected their winnings and wandered off. Atherton moved to the next table and bought into the game happening there, but most of their party left the room.
Anthony stretched and yawned again.
“Did you walk here?” Lark asked.
Anthony nodded. He lived three whole houses away, which was not worth the bother of his carriage.
“I believe I shall walk home with you. Make sure you avoid any ruffians lurking about in the bushes.”
“I’d be grateful, I’m sure,” said Anthony.
They left the card room, made their way through the ballroom to say their good-byes, and then left the party.