Page 28 of A Symphony for the Earl

“That depends on your teacher,” Denys replied.

“Richard has volunteered,” Valentina said, “so you need not fear the outcome.”

Denys looked surprised. “Then I certainly won’t renege on my offer, Miss Rafferty.” He grinned. “Women pine in droves for a dance with him, but he is miserly with his invitations. You are fortunate.”

Denys ignored Richard’s frown and continued in the same ridiculous vein down Carriage Drive to the Serpentine, where he met up with a group of colorful young bucks and took his leave.

“I’ll see all of you at Almack’s tomorrow. Will you be stopping by Watier’s tonight, Richard? Lord Mountjoy is hosting a private party, and I imagine there will be some deep play at the Hazard table.”

“Perhaps later in the evening.”

With a mock salute, Denys wheeled his horse toward his friends and cantered away.

Not for the first time, Richard wondered why his closest friend was still a bachelor. Very few young ladies would refuse an offer from Denys, though he possessed a very modest income. But he didn’t indulge in love affairs and had expressed interest in no particular woman. There was some brief romance with a local young lady while they were at university, but since then Denys seemed set on bachelorhood.

The drive continued without interruption along Serpentine Road until a fine phaeton approached. He recognized the fashionable man of middle age, Lord Peter Burrell, and his equally elegant wife, Lady Clementina Drummond-Burrell.

Richard paused the chestnuts, which by this time had settled nicely. “Lord Burrell and Lady Drummond-Burrell. I hope the day finds you well.”

Lord Burrell nodded genially. His wife was rather plain of countenance, but always dressed in the height of fashion. Today, she wore an impressive Kent Toque, complete with sweeping ostrich feathers.

“Good day, Lord Seldon. I thought I had persuaded you to call on us last week.”

He wasn’t sure how to answer this, remembering no such conversation. Richard had known the couple for years, but her moods were fickle. If one was too familiar, Mrs. Drummond-Burrell was known to give a sharp rap across the knuckles in answer. Her ever-present fan was a fearsome weapon. Braver men than he had flinched when it opened.

Luckily, she turned to Miss Rafferty without waiting for his reply. “Ah, this must be your new ward.”

“May I introduce Miss Rafferty, recently from Dublin. Her father has a connection to our family, and I’m her guardian in light of his recent passing. Miss Rafferty, this is Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, a leader in London society and one of Almack’s patronesses.”

“Lord Seldon flatters me, my dear. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. She’s very striking, Richard. Of course, the fashion rests with blondes now, but your Miss Rafferty will do nicely.”

Fiona looked less than pleased with Mrs. Drummond-Burrell’s offhand approval, but thankfully remained silent.

“Lady Merrick, how well you look. I vow you are quite ageless, my dear. And Miss Merrick, beautiful as always. Is she not a diamond of the first water, Peter?” Mr. Burrell nodded absently at his wife, far more interested in the earl’s chestnuts, who were beginning to fidget and prance.

“Enough chitchat, Clementina,” he announced. Richard was grateful for the interruption. “I say, Lord Seldon, that is a fine set of chestnuts you have. Devil take it if you don’t find the best horseflesh in the country. Are they for sale, by chance?”

“No, they are not, Lord Burrell, but I am always happy to offer my connections if you are seeking horses.”

“Well, that is good of you,” Lord Burrell returned with great enthusiasm. “I might just take you up on that.”

“Lady Cowper had to leave for the country unexpectedly, but she left a voucher to Almack’s for me to deliver to you. I’ll send it by messenger.” As Mrs. Drummond-Burrell’s husband took up the reins to his phaeton, the matched bays lurched forward. She clutched at her toque and slapped her husband’s arm with the dreaded fan.

“Peter! Desist moving. I am still speaking. You are all coming to the ball tomorrow, I hope, my lord? I expect the Prince Regent will attend with the Duke of Clarence. Thank goodness for that. Things have been dreadfully dull since Brummell left. Has it only been a year?”

“Nearly two, I think. Mr. Brummell has indeed left a void in his absence. Lord Alvaney appears to have taken up the mantle, but he is a poor substitute, I fear.”

“You are too modest, Lord Seldon. I believe you’re the one whom the beau monde look to regarding all things fashionable with Brummel’s absence,” Mrs. Drummond-Burrell said archly.

He laughed and made no answer but allowed his chestnut team to move forward and the carriages parted ways.

“How on earth did you manage to procure Miss Rafferty’s voucher for Almack’s so quickly, Richard?” his mother asked. “I was told Emily Cowper was extremely close handed with them this Season. Have you also received permission for Fiona to waltz?”

“What?” Miss Rafferty was incredulous. “Are you saying I need permission to dance?” Richard sighed and focused his attention on passing a group of horsemen through a narrow opening.

“Just for the waltz, my dear,” Lady Amelia explained. “It is such a new dance, you see, and quite improper in the wrong hands.”

“First, I must pass inspection to be granted entrance to this Almack’s, and then I must beg permission to waltz? Intolerable. I would rather go elsewhere than parade through such a gauntlet of requirements,” his irritating ward proclaimed.