Page 44 of A Lady's Guide to Scandal

‘I suppose I shall have to find some other means,’ she said wryly. ‘Or learn to curb my tongue a little better.’

‘Ah, your slight of the reprehensible Arden?’ he guessed. He looked at her sidelong. ‘Was it a very good set down?’

Her lips twitched. ‘My finest so far,’ she admitted. ‘But it caused such a fuss – I feared for a moment we might be quite undone.’

He shrugged – an informal gesture that did not suit the ballroom, and not one she had ever seen him do before. She had a sudden vision of what he might look like, striding around his Devonshire lands. He would be more at ease, there, surely, than he was here – though no less striking.

‘They are a capricious and unprincipled lot, where titles and wealth are concerned,’ he said, with casual condemnation, before adding, ‘I should not like to dance with him.’

He said this as though it was enough of a reason, all on its own. The simplicity of the words helped to calm some of the anxiety within her.

‘Yes, exactly,’ she agreed, a little surprised to find them so aligned.

He left her with a smile and Kitty climbed into the carriage behind her sister. As they made for home, she tried to explain the whole ordeal to Aunt Dorothy, but Kitty was aggrieved to find that her aunt did not understand in the least.

‘Hasn’t every lady had to dance with someone she would not like to, at least once?’ she was asking, a little nonplussed by all the fuss.

‘That doesn’t make it right,’ Kitty muttered obstinately.

‘Perhaps I should have just danced with him,’ Cecily whispered from the corner. ‘It mightn’t have been so bad.’

Kitty reached out in the dark and took her sister’s hand.

‘No,’ she said simply, squeezing the small palm.

22

Lord Radcliffe arrived at Grosvenor Square as dusk was falling. It was Archie’s birthday, and the family had gathered for supper to celebrate the occasion. As Radcliffe entered, he could already hear the echo of voices travelling up from the dining room and smiled at the raucous noise. The de Lacys had always made an occasion of birthdays – Lady Radcliffe feeling it was especially important to mark such moments properly – but Radcliffe had not been in London for Archie’s these past two years. And so it still seemed peculiar to Radcliffe that he would not find his father in the dining room, too.

Radcliffe stood in the hallway for a minute longer than necessary, struck anew by this strangeness. One did not get used to it, he thought wryly. He had entered this door a thousand times – a hundred thousand times, perhaps – knowing both his parents could be found inside. And now he was to accept that it was no longer true? It felt impossible. Of course, had his father been alive, he would no doubt already be berating Radcliffe for something – reminding him of a task that should have been done, but hadn’t, or a misdeed he shouldn’t have performed, but had. Or would he? Radcliffe supposed he could not be sure. His father had been incensed by his son’s refusal to return to England when war broke out again – more furious even than when he had first sent his son away for the uncertain crime of his frivolous living. Radcliffe had hoped this stance would eventually soften. What to his father had been another grievous failure of family duty had to Radcliffe been the only honourable action he could take, and he had thought his father might one day see that, too. But they had never had the chance to speak further after Waterloo. His father had died before Radcliffe had returned home. And so, Radcliffe would never know if fighting in a war had redeemed him in his father’s eyes – finally proving him a worthy son.

‘My lord?’ Pattson’s voice interrupted his reverie, and Radcliffe came back to the present with a start. The direction of Radcliffe’s thoughts must have been plain in his face, because Pattson’s expression of cool professionalism softened infinitesimally. It was a change not many people would register – but then, Radcliffe had known Pattson quite as long, and quite as well, as any member of his family.

‘The rest of the family are in the dining room,’ Pattson said quietly, watching him with kind, knowing eyes.

‘Yes of course, I’ll head that way.’

As he passed, Pattson pressed a hand briefly upon his shoulder – a very rare trespass of propriety that he would not normally allow himself. Radcliffe placed a hand over his without looking up and they stood there silently for a beat, before he moved on without speaking a single word.

‘Happy birthday, Archie,’ Radcliffe clasped his younger brother’s arm warmly. Archie squeezed his hand back, grinning – though a little weakly. He did look, Radcliffe thought, rather pale.

‘Are you all right?’ he could not help asking in a quiet aside.

‘Yes, yes,’ Archie said, with a wan smile that quickly slipped off his face. There was a pause and then, he went on abruptly. ‘You were right about Miss Talbot, you know.’

‘Ah.’ Radcliffe felt a pang of guilt. He had quite forgotten that Archie might be smarting from the Miss Talbot affair – though at least, he thought with relief, it was nothing serious bothering him.

‘Yes, she’s quite forgotten me now,’ Archie said with uncharacteristic bitterness. ‘Setting her cap at everyone but me, it seems. Thank goodness for Selbourne, he’s—’

‘Are you sure you do not want a party, Archie?’ Lady Radcliffe interrupted, gesturing impatiently for her sons to take their seats. ‘It is not too late, you know. After all, coming of age is an important moment – we all want to celebrate!’

‘I don’t,’ Lady Amelia said sourly. ‘Why should I celebrate Archie coming into his inheritance?’

‘No, Mama,’ Archie said firmly, ignoring his sister. ‘I am quite sick of – I mean to say, I am quite tired. This has been a … busy Season already.’

Radcliffe eyed him a little suspiciously. This seemed unlike Archie, who had historically always loved his birthday, the Season, and really, any excuse at all for a celebration. But perhaps that was no longer true. Radcliffe shrugged it off and before long the usual hubbub of the family overtook matters. As dinner was served, Archie seemed to regain his colour, looking and sounding more like his usual self, and Radcliffe was pleased to see it.

By the second course, Lady Radcliffe and Amelia had resumed their old argument as to when Amelia should be allowed to attend her first ball this Season.