He was dressed in a fine suit, with buckskin trousers that were decidedly too tight to be considered decent anywhere other than the London ballrooms. She was aware of the trend among young lords to soak their pants in order to show off their leg muscles and Daniel seemed to prescribe to this fashion.
However, her focus did not remain on his attire for too long for he looked up and their eyes met across the room. For a moment she wanted to look away because she felt her resistance to him, and with it her ability to ignore her feelings, melt away. He raised his arm in greeting. It was this, that small motion, which allowed her to break out of her captivation with him and she looked away.
“These London-based lords have no modesty whatsoever. I blame that Lord Byron. I, for one, vow not to step foot into London. Not if I can help it.” Margaret shook her head as she turned away from Daniel and his offensive trousers.
“I agree,” Kathleen said. “I used to love nothing better than the London Season, but now I am most alarmed. Faith!” She exclaimed and clasped her hand in front of her mouth. Frowning, Penelope turned and saw Alistair Mavis enter. Her eyes grew wide, for while Daniel’s attire was rather unusual, Alistair’s was scandalous even to her eyes.
Like Daniel, he wore a blue tailcoat and white waistcoat, and like Daniel’s, his black pantaloons were tight. Much tighter than was acceptable in society. Mr. Mavis’ pantaloons had enjoyed considerably more soaking than Daniel’s—that much was clear. She noticed several ladies starting at him and shaking their heads, while the gentleman in attendance whispered among themselves.
“I had heard anon-ditthat Lord Carlton turned into quite the dandy while away. I can see now that it’s no rumor. Look at him. And his friend.” Margaret shook her head, having dared another glance.
Kathleen shrugged. “I suppose it’s better than the other rumor about him coming true.”
Penelope frowned. “The other rumor? Which is…?”
Her friend shrugged. “That he has gone mad just like his father.”
At once, Margaret chimed in. “I heard it as well. There’s stories about him acting just as unbalanced as his father.”
Penelope felt a surge of anger rise inside of her and she furrowed her forehead.
“You two should know better than to listen to idle tittle-tattle. Just because his father suffered from an addled mind does not mean Daniel will as well.”
The two women exchanged a glance and Kathleen placed a hand on her forearm.
“I am sorry. I had quite forgotten that you are close to him. I did not mean to offend.”
Penelope swallowed and shook her head. “I am not offended. And I am no longer close to him, anyhow. I have not seen him in near a decade. I simply would not subscribe to taradiddles.”
Before any further conversation could take place, they were interrupted by the arrival of one very excited Bridget Hughes. Her gown, a crisp ensemble of crepe, worn over a satin slip, was similar to Penelope’s own attire. While Penelope had opted for a light scarlet hue, Bridget’s gown was in a lovely Pomona green, perfectly complementing her red hair. Her hair was pinned up and a lace bandeau adorned her head.
“Penny!” She said when she arrived. “Did you see? He’s here.” She turned her head across the crowd to where Daniel was standing, now joined by Mr. Mavis. Penelope’s father had ventured away and was seated in a chair near the drawing room, conversing with a friend.
Bridget waved at the two young men and both returned the gesture with Daniel bowing his head in her direction. At once, Bridget blushed and tugged on Penelope’s arm. “Come, let us go greet them. I am eager for a dance.”
Penelope nodded, having found herself rather irritated with her two friends who had provided such respite earlier in the evening. “If you will excuse me,” she nodded her head and linked her arm with Bridget’s as the two made their way to the other side of the room.
* * *
“Lady Penelope,” Mr. Mavis said and bowed before her. “And Miss Hughes. What a pleasure. This past week went by ever so slowly without your delightful company.”
Bridget giggled at this. “I am so sorry my father was not able to show you the estate this past week. He has been called away on business. Once he returns, I am sure it will be arranged.”
“I look forward to it. We both do, do we not, My Lord?” He elbowed Daniel lightly in the side and he nodded, his eyes on Penelope.
“Indeed.” For a moment, the two looked at each other and a smile formed on her lips. They had yet to have a conversation, she realized. He licked his lips, a habit she recognized from childhood. He always did this when steading his nerves before tackling a difficult subject. Sure enough, he cleared his throat. “You have arranged a wonderful ball, Penelope. I must say, I am impressed.”
“I am sure it cannot rival the many balls you have attended in London, Lord Carlton.” She could see him flinch as she addressed him by his title once more. It didn’t feel right to call him by his first name. Not now that they were no longer close.
“The balls of London might be opulent. But this, a country ball, can rival none with its attention to detail.” He winked at her. “I saw you made sure to include nonpareils on the sweetmeats table. I thank you, as I’ve not had one as good as the ones found in this part of the country, anywhere in London.”
Penelope colored and quickly looked away. She’d indeed included his childhood favorite because she knew how much he liked it. However, she hadn’t expected him to comment on it.
“That was ever so sweet of you, Penny,” Bridget cooed beside her. “I know what it is not to be able to eat your most favorite food. We used to reside in Ireland for a time when I was a child and I still crave a good Irish soda bread.” She rubbed her stomach.
“Soda bread! You ought to ask Daniel here about my mother’s soda bread. Her mother hailed from Dublin and she makes the most amazing Irish treats.”
Behind them, the quadrille ended and the orchestra prepared for the next dance, the cotillion—Penelope’s favorite dance. As the couples on the dance floor got into position, Daniel cleared his throat once more.
