My mother straightened, pleased with the recognition and concern.
“The megrims come and go. I was sorry to miss the ball last week though. Hugh assured me it was lovely.”
The lemonade lady stiffened with the reminder of the ball, and Lady Davina covered a smirk behind her hand.
“Yes, quite lovely,” I added. My tone came out more strangled than I intended.
The unknown gentleman shifted closer to his companion, shielding her from my view.
Tom, on the other hand, barely managed to cover a burst of laughter with a cough. I shot him a dangerous look, but he just grinned, rocking back on his heels.
“Lady Grayson, I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting my dear friend, Miss Katherine Summers. Miss Summers is the niece of Her Grace, the Duchess of Sutton. Miss Summers, this is Lady Grayson and her sons Lord Hugh Grayson and Mr. Tom Grayson.”
And so I had her name. Niece of a duchess, that was something of a shock but did explain her presence the other night.
She performed a proper curtsy, much more graceful than anything she managed thus far. Through it all, she wore an unsightly flush, evidence that she was capable of shame at least.
“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Grayson, Lord Grayson, Mr. Grayson. May I introduce my brother, Mr. Christopher Summers?” She gestured toward the man still posted protectively between us.
She had not managed to attract a suitor, then. That was no surprise given her lack of decorum.
Her brother provided an appropriate bow in response. My mother tucked her chin like a discomfited turtle trying to escape a predator at the sight of him though. She did have a tendency to fret when presented with those outside the peerage. The megrims would surely make a reappearance soon.
The niceties observed, the ladies spoke for a few moments on the particularly fine weather. Miss Summers used the opportunity to right her bonnet and fuss with the ribbons, rather than contribute to the conversation in any meaningful way.
Her gown was a pale pink color that did not suit her coloring at all, particularly with the flush that still called her cheeks home. It sat tight on her bodice, entirely too obvious for such an occasion, and pulled on her hips in an entirely unflattering way.
“—do you not think so, Lord Grayson?” Lady Rycliffe asked.
“Hmm,” I murmured. I had no notion what direction the conversation had taken, and I could only hope that my hum was interpreted correctly.
“Really? I distinctly recall you telling me that you preferred lemonade to dancing.” Tom added with a cheeky grin. “In fact, I remember you told me the other day that you were served the best glass of lemonade you ever had at the ball the other night.”
My teeth ground together in an effort not to clap my brother over the head. “No, I quite prefer dancing to drinks, Tom.”
“I’m almost certain you had a great deal to say about the lemonade, and I heard nothing about dancing. But, perhaps I’m misremembering.”
“Perhaps,” I bit out.
Lady Rycliffe was making a valiant effort at a straight face. Lady Davina made no such attempt. Mother’s mouth could not have pinched any tighter. She had no idea of Tom’s true meaning, but she understood there was something she did not know.
Miss Summers on the other hand, had shrunk entirely behind her brother who shifted in a manner that might have been menacing if he were taller.
“If you would excuse us, I feel my megrim returning,” Mother said, tightening her hand on my arm. We bid them adieu correctly, before turning toward the house.
We made it three steps before the tirade began, far too loud. “The impertinence of those two. It’s hard to be believed. I cannot imagine what Lady Rycliffe and Lady Davina see in that chit. With that hideous gown. And her brother, clearly in trade. She has no business setting foot in a ballroom as fine as Her Grace’s. In fact, I’m certain the smell of him is why my megrim has returned. People in trade have a certain scent about them.”
Tom made an effort to shush her, but it was no use. She was quite skilled at dragging her feet when she had something to say that she wanted everyone to hear. Even if she knew it was inappropriate.
The walk back to Grayson house was slow and filled with a great many complaints. By the time we returned, I had a megrim to call my own. And Mother returned to her rooms with even more afflictions than when we left.
* * *
After settlingMother in her rooms with her tonic, I found my way to the study with the intention of answering the letters that awaited me.
Unfortunately, Tom took it upon himself to sprawl across the desk, his boot clad feet on top. All my carefully sorted papers were upended into indistinguishable piles. He made free with my scotch as well if the bottle beside him was any indication.
“Bit behind on the correspondence, Brother?” he asked.
