“Not so,” the gentle voice of Mr Fridolin spoke up. He was an elderly gentleman with a shock of white hair. “I need to protest. That status no doubt belongs to the Viennese musicians. They’re incomparable.”
“Fiddlesticks,” interjected the Dowager Duchess.
“I say, Ashmore. That’s all well and good, to have this splendid ball with England’s best musicians. Wouldn’t expect anything less of you. But, dash it, no point in having a ball if half of the time you’re absent. 'Tis not the thing,” said an overweight, ruddy-looking gentleman. He tapped his snuff box open and took a pinch.
“Lord Blackmore is right, Ash.” Arabella said. “You’ve been neglecting your guests.”
“How is it to be the grandest ball in the country, if you’re absent, Sir?” Lady Louisa pulled her porcelain face into a pout.
The duke proved marble could stiffen. “I regret my tardiness this week. It is indeedinexcusable for a host to desert his guests. There were unforeseen and not untrivial complications on the estate. I shall make amends. You will not lack in comfort and amusement for your remaining stay at Ashmore Hall.”
God’s teeth. He even talked like he’d eaten marble.
“Very well said, Ashmore.” Lord Blackmore was satisfied. “We all know what a busy man you are. Wouldn’t want to shoulder half the troubles and responsibilities you have. But now is some time for sport and fun, eh?”
“I shall make every effort to oblige you, Blackmore.” The duke looked about as amused and capable of having fun as an urn. “Lady Louisa, of course I will attend the ball.” He bowed in her direction. “It will be an honour if you were to grant me the first dance.”
“Wonderful!” Louisa clapped her gloved hands together with spread fingers, like a child.
“Yes, yes. On to more important matters,” grumbled the dowager. “Tea!”
The men gathered around Ashmore to discuss the newest politics of the day. The women gathered around Louisa to discuss what they’d wear for the ball. The footmen brought in tea trays.
Lucy exhaled shakily. She felt cold, yet there were beads of sweat on her forehead.
“Are you well, Lucy? You don’t seem quite yourself.” Arabella bent over her as she handed Lucy a cup of tea. “You’re white around your nose. But now your cheeks are red, they look feverish. For a moment I thought you’d faint.”
“I almost did. The air in here is stifling. A moment of vertigo, nothing else.” Lucy swallowed the tea without tasting it.
“Are you ill?” Arabella tilted her head sideways and looked at her, closely. Lucy shook her head. “Maybe you just need some fresh air. Did you not say you wanted to go to the rose garden and take a walk? How about after tea?”
“No. I’m tired. I need to lie down a bit.”
Arabella wanted to reply, when Lady Conway tapped her arm and drew her away.
His eyes. Icy blue. Cold and indifferent. She must have imagined they could lighten up in a million shades of blue when he smiled. Or she must have been completely, entirely mistaken.
The things she’d told him! How he must have laughed at her. And she’d kissed him!
Humiliation flushed through her body. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She swore to herself she’d forevermore hate hawthorn bushes, roses, and gardeners.
How was she going to get through tea? It was turning into an agonisingly drawn-out affair. She could excuse herself and return to her room. She set her teacup aside. Just at that moment, the steely grip of the dowager clamped down on her arm.
“Ashmore.” Stomp, stomp. “There’s a matter of great importance that hasbeen brought to my attention. Sit down here. No, not there. Over here.” The dowager pointed with her stick to the ottoman across from where she sat with Lucy.
The duke folded his tall figure into the ottoman and crossed his long legs. “Grandmamma.”
“Were you aware of the fact that our domestic staff each have appellations?”
“Do they, now?” He raised a supercilious eyebrow.
“Anindomitable source of information has informed me that our servants are not only people, but that they also have their very own names.”
Ashmore’s eyes, now with both brows raised, rested on Lucy, who found the green paisley pattern of the wallpaper intensely interesting. “Indeed, Grandmamma. I find this indomitable source of information interests me profoundly. What else does he - or she - have to say?”
“It appears we’ve been shockingly remiss with this matter.”
“How quaint,” interjected Lady Louisa. “Servants are servants. One need not recognise them as individuals, as we all know. In our house, all footmen arecalled John, and all chambermaids Mary. It simplifies the matter tremendously.” She sat down next to the duke, holding a teacup, looking cool in a pristine white gown with a pink satin sash.
