Page 38 of A Lady's Guide to Scandal

‘Oh, so you were in fact protecting my honour by inviting a free-for-all upon my person, by every mother and daughter in the city?’

She bit back a bigger smile; she was rather beginning to enjoy these little exchanges with Radcliffe – it wasn’t just that to be seen in his company couldn’t help but aid her standing in society, but also the pleasure of knowing that while the rest of society had to make do with Radcliffe’s polite mask, it was with her alone that he let loose his sarcastic wit.

‘Yes, I was,’ she replied solemnly.

He looked at her levelly. ‘You will live to regret this,’ he promised her. ‘I will repay you for the discomfort you have caused me.’

‘If we are going to exchange threats,’ she said. ‘It would be better that we do it whilst dancing, so that we are not overheard.’ She looked at him expectantly. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me?’

‘I rather thought it was you who just asked me,’ he said. ‘If we can call it asking.’

‘No, I asked whether you were going to ask me,’ she corrected firmly. ‘But as you’re clearly going to be difficult, I would now rather you didn’t.’

‘That suits perfectly, for my answer was going to be no. I make it a general rule only to dance with persons I like – and certainly not shameless jades.’

She bristled in offence. ‘Are you in the habit of being this rude to everyone you encounter?’

‘On the contrary,’ he said coolly. ‘I am considered rather charming by the entirety of the ton.’

‘Well, I’m sure we cannot blame them for that foolishness,’ she snapped. ‘So many of the ton being in the habit of marrying their first cousins.’

He inhaled sharply, choked on his mouthful of champagne, and then let out a coughing bark of mirth.

‘Oh, very well done, Miss Talbot,’ he told her, never one to begrudge a good hit.

‘Now will you dance with me?’ she asked.

‘Never!’ he declared, with a theatricality that belonged on the stage. Kitty turned from him with an equally dramatic flourish, suppressing a shiver of something – pique, no doubt, that he wouldn’t dance with her this evening. It was, of course, merely frustration that she wouldn’t get the accompanying boost of visibility to the eligible gentlemen present. No more than that.

She had work to do tonight, after all, and for once, it wasn’t just to do with charming the gentlemen. The Lady Patronesses of Almack’s were the highest ranking and most esteemed members of Regency society, and they each wielded extraordinary social power. An Almack’s voucher from one of these ladies would be the ultimate seal of approval – it was far more than a card of invitation, and no less than the difference between society and Society, Mr Talbot had once said. He, Kitty knew, had rather considered these parts of high society a little dull – preferring to spend his time with their mother than with the fusty ton. There was an irony in this, Kitty thought – that she was reduced to scheming to access the same places that Mr Talbot had avoided – but she was far too preoccupied to appreciate it.

To secure an Almack’s voucher, then, Kitty had several possible avenues of attack. The Princess Esterházy and the Countess Lieven she discounted straight away. Not even Kitty had the courage to speak to such high-ranking ladies. She had met Mrs Burrell, of course, at Lady Radcliffe’s dinner party, though she could not see her anywhere. She identified Lady Cowper by way of Lady Kingsbury, and spent the better part of an hour hovering on the periphery of their group, trying to be included, but it was a fruitless endeavour. Frustrated, she abandoned this and cast about again. As luck would have it, Kitty spotted the Dowager Countesses Lady Radcliffe and Lady Montagu deep in conversation with Lady Jersey across the room. Famous. She made her way across to them.

‘Miss Talbot!’ Lady Radcliffe cried. ‘How are you, my dear?’

But then, to Kitty’s horror, instead of bringing her into the conversation, Lady Radcliffe began to guide her away with a hand upon her elbow. ‘Lady Montagu, Lady Jersey, do excuse us.’

Kitty looked longingly over her shoulder towards Lady Jersey, as Lady Radcliffe took her to a quiet corner of the room.

‘I have been wanting to speak with Mrs Kendall, my dear,’ she said confidentially. ‘But you will do just as well. Do you think it wise to let Miss Cecily set her cap at Lord Montagu so obviously?’

Kitty blinked at her.

‘Set her cap?’ she repeated, a little incredulous. ‘My lady, you must be mistaken. Cecily has no notion of setting her cap at anyone.’

Lady Radcliffe squeezed her arm, gently. ‘Perhaps you have not noticed that she has danced twice with Lord Montagu, just this evening alone, then? And twice too at the Sinclair ball. It does look a little fast, my dear.’

Kitty blinked again. Dear lord, was two dances in one evening really such a claxon symbol of marital intent to these people? She wished Radcliffe had felt the need to share that detail with her. She thanked Lady Radcliffe profusely, and looked wildly about for Cecily. Ah. There she was. Speaking to Lord Montagu, Kitty noted with exasperation, which did not help her case and … and looking quite about to dance with him a third time. Kitty did not run across the room, but she most certainly hastened.

‘Cecily!’ she said brightly. ‘And Lord Montagu, how do you do? Lord Montagu, I am afraid your mother is looking for you – she quite wants to speak with you most urgently. Perhaps you should find her?’

Lord Montagu looked perplexed and a little cross at the interruption, but slouched off, nonetheless.

‘Cecily,’ Kitty hissed. ‘You weren’t to know, but you must only dance with a man once an evening. More than that is to be considered awfully fast by these people.’

It was Cecily’s turn to look perplexed. ‘How terribly prudish,’ she said, only mildly interested. ‘It sounds most foolish to me – why, in Ancient Greece—’

‘But we are not in Ancient Greece!’ Kitty interrupted, a little shrill. ‘We are in London, and these are – these are the rules.’