Chapter 23 A Festive Evening, Salvaged

Lady Damerel reached out a hand and, taking Mrs. Stanhope's in a warm grip, said, "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Mrs. Stanhope! To think we've been crossing paths these last few weeks as strangers when, all along, we've been connected through dear Charlotte! I wish I might have known it sooner."

From where he stood just beyond Damerel's shoulder, Percy saw Miss Stanhope's lips curve in a feline smile. "I told Miss Damerel of it — oh! — it must have been a month or more ago. No doubt she neglected to mention it."

Lady Damerel's smile didn't waver, but it took on a fixed quality. "Indeed she did not, Miss Stanhope. She told me you claimed an aunt in our neighborhood of the North Riding, but, as you didn't supply a name, we were stymied as to who she might be."

Miss Stanhope's brow puckered in a pretty show of confusion. "I distinctly remember saying my aunt was Lady Lanyon of Undershaw. Perhaps Miss Damerel was not attending and didn't hear."

Percy, who'd been present and remembered the encounter clearly, was so incensed at the barefaced lie he was just about to jump to Helena's defense when Lady Damerel forestalled him with the tactful, "Yes, well, that is all in the past and of no consequence now that we're all finally acquainted. Shall we join the rest of the company, or…?" She looked a inquiry at Lady Lanyon. "Do we need to wait for Roland?"

"Oh! No! The poor lamb has quite the most horrible toothache! His jaw is swollen and red, and the pain…!"

Percy took advantage of the moment to slip quietly off toward the ballroom, his mind awhirl with all he'd just heard. Beryl Stanhope was Lady Lanyon's niece! How, in their efforts to work out the Lanyons' go-between with the ton, had they overlooked so obvious a connection? They had spoken, once, of scrutinizing Lady Lanyon's friends and relations for the possible link, but then, on nothing more substantial than the lady's reputation for being timorous and peace-loving, they'd dismissed her from consideration. Meanwhile, just as Miss Stanhope was niece to Lady Lanyon, she was, by the same token, cousin to Roland, the very man they'd first suspected of being the source of the gossip. Miss Stanhope, as a member of the family, had no doubt been treated any number of times to Roland's gripes of being ill-used by the Damerels, and, over the course of her stay at Undershaw that one summer, might even have overheard Sir Conway complain of his sister and her husband. Whether the Lanyons had simply not guarded their tongues in Miss Stanhope's presence or had intentionally fed her the information so she might use it to punish the Damerels, it was all but certain, either way, that she'd had her stock of half-truths and ugly insinuations from them.

What flummoxed him completely was Miss Stanhope's choosing to attend the ball and, of her own volition, expose, if not positively flaunt, her ties to Lady Lanyon. She had to know that, in doing so, she would stand revealed as the instigator and force behind the campaign to smear the Damerels and ruin Helena's credit. What would induce her to tip her hand so openly? It was as he crossed the threshold into the ballroom and felt the gratification of being enveloped in a hubbub of cheerful noise and of seeing about him a great many knots of people standing chatting and laughing together that the answer came to him: she had come in the full expectation of witnessing first hand the Damerels' mortification in hosting a magnificent event that was only sparsely-attended. Her efforts had all been geared to damaging the Damerels' standing in the ton and having, in her mind, achieved her purpose, she had come to savor her triumph and to gloat. Percy, catching here and there glimpses of some of the thirty or so guests who'd come either at his urging or at Callie's, was never more glad of the cajoling, persuading and bargaining he'd done to insure the ball was at least a moderate success. Miss Stanhope had been foiled.

He lost no time in looking about him for Callie. She, and Enid to a lesser degree, deserved to be told of his discovery right away. The ballroom was crowded enough that he couldn't immediately spot either his cousin or sister, and so he set about weaving around and past groups of people in search of them, slowing now and then to acknowledge a greeting or return a salute. At last, at the end of the ballroom directly opposite and furthest away from where the evening's quartet sat playing, he came across his Claiborne and St. Cyr relations all gathered together except, he saw at a glance, for Callie and Enid.

Catching sight of his mother comfortably seated with a daughter-in-law on either side, Percy went to her directly, and, bending, saluted her cheek with a kiss. "Mamma," he said, drawing back and making a show of taking her in, "you are fine as fivepence! I don't know when I've seen you look more elegant."

The duchess waved this away with a tolerant smile. "You needn't persist in flattering me, Percy. I am here, am I not? You have gained your objective."

"And I'm truly grateful to you for coming, Mamma."

"As to that, I've already told you: the effort's not solely for your sake. The abuse the Damerels, and Miss Damerel in particular, have been forced to endure doesn't sit well with me and I want it to be seen that I, for one, do not hold with such mean and despicable tactics."

"Well said, Mamma!" Clara said with her usual animation. "I do not know Miss Damerel — as yet, anyway — but it's a matter of conscience, surely, to stand against anyone's being so abominably mistreated! You're to be commended, Percy, for rallying us to support her. Well done!"

"Yes," Lynette agreed, with an affectionate smile. "Bravo! One could not go so far as to call this crowd a crush, precisely, but it's of a very respectable size. The Damerels will not be embarrassed."

Before he could make a reply, Elayne bustled forward and greeted him with a brisk, "Percy! Finally! Callie's been looking for you this last hour or more. She says she must speak with you urgently."

Percy straightened to attention. "Did she say in what regard?"

"Something to do with unmasking the villain behind the gossip. She was here a moment ago but went off with a Mr. Will Hendred. To make the acquaintance of his brothers, if I understood correctly."

"Ah! Thank you. I had better find her, then…"

Just at that moment, however, the musicians ceased their playing, and at a signal which Percy could not immediately discern but which proved to be Damerel escorting Helena onto the dance floor, the din of voices gradually tailed off and ultimately died away. In the silence that ensued, Damerel once again thanked his guests warmly for having graced the evening's celebration with their presence and invited them to partake in his and Lady Damerel's pride and joy in marking their cherished daughter's formal debut in society. "As many of you have recently been reminded and others of you have only just learned," he said, his voice taking on a sardonic note, "I am a man of few, if any, redeeming qualities, and I fully admit to being selfish when it comes to my jewel of a daughter. Given my way, I would keep her forever beside me and not share her with the world. Happily for you all…" He paused to smile and bow in Lady Damerel's direction. "A nobler heart has prevailed over mine, and so here we are. As is a father's due, however, before I relinquish her to other partners, I reserve the right to lead my daughter out in this evening's first dance which is, I believe, a Grand March. We would be pleased if you would join us, and, please, enjoy the rest of the evening."

Damerel, with his poised, self-deprecatory manner, easily commanded the room but, for the entirety of his speech, Percy stood transfixed by Helena. Her gaze never wavered from her father's face and, as he spoke, her expression was one of such pure admiration, assurance and love, that she positively glowed. At the baron's flowery praise, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink and her smile was so sweetly abashed that, to Percy's eyes, she'd never looked more breathtakingly lovely.

Such was his absorption, he was not aware, until she spoke, of Lynette's having come up beside him. "So, that's the way of it," she said. "I thought it must be."

Percy, caught off-guard and suddenly self-conscious, made a stab at feigning incomprehension. "I'm afraid I don't…"

Lynette cut him off with a shake of her head. "It's no good denying it, Percy. It's plain as pikestaff you're mad for the girl." She breathed out a quiet sigh. "It really is too bad."

Percy's heart dropped like a stone at her sympathy. She judged his suit inadequate — of course she did — and was sorry for his disappointment. Knowing what she'd say but, perversely, wanting to hear it from her lips, he inquired, "How so?"

She smiled up at him crookedly, a rueful look in her eye. "I don't doubt you'll think me foolish, but I've long entertained the fond hope that you and Evie would one day make a match of it."

"Evie?" Percy exclaimed, stupid with surprise. "Your sister, Evie?"

She regarded him with mock offense. "You needn't look so horrified."

"That's not…! I didn't mean…! That is to say, your sister — Miss Armstrong — she's a lovely person. I like her very well."

"And she likes you. I thought there was every chance you two could rub along together very well. And then, only think how comfortable it would have been, two sisters married to two brothers!" She allowed herself another tiny sigh. "But I see it is not to be. For all her many fine qualities, Evie is not a patch on your Miss Damerel."

Percy took a moment to collect himself, then admitted, "She isn't mine."

Lynette treated him to a sharp look. "Not yet, do you mean?"

"Not ever, in all likelihood. She has a suitor who can offer her a great deal more than I can. You may remember him: the Marquess of Hartshorne."

"Oooh!" Lynette's brows shot up and her eyes grew wide. "That is impressive. I recall the name, of course, but, during my Season, we hardly travelled in the same social circles, he and I, so I never met the man." She rose ever so discreetly on the tips of her slippers and cast an avid glance about her. "You must point him out to me, Percy! Do you see him?"

It was only at that moment that Percy realized he'd yet to catch sight of Hartshorne. He'd not glimpsed the marquess in the half of the ballroom he'd traversed nor, on quickly surveying the other half, did he spy anyone of the man's distinctive height and coloring. "I don't see him, no, but he is expected. Like you, he may have been delayed on the road. He was obliged to go out of town on estate business some days ago."

Lynette mulled this over, then suggested, "Or, perhaps, the gossip has done its damage and he's taken against her."

"No," Percy said, decidedly. "That won't be the case. He assured Miss Damerel she might count on him this evening, and he's nothing if not a man of his word. Trust me, he'll be here before much longer."

The evening wore on, though, dance following dance, and while a few latecomers did, indeed, wander in, none of them was Hartshorne. For long stretches, Percy was too busy redeeming his many promises to partner one or another of his female relations or friends to register the marquess' continued absence, but when he did remember to look about for the man, he was never to be found.

His concern over Hartshorne's whereabouts was, in any event, a distant third to other preoccupations. The first of these was Helena's happiness, and he repeatedly checked to assure himself that she was smiling and carefree, enjoying herself. His own dance with her was the last but one before the supper break, and though he was impatient for his turn to lead her out, the sight of her so effervescent and joyful was pleasure enough in the interim to make the wait endurable.

His secondary compulsion was to keep tabs on the perfidious Miss Stanhope. She was, to his mind, dangerously unpredictable and not above having some malicious design up her sleeve. It was in keeping his careful watch that he remarked to his surprise Lady Damerel's many small attentions to the Stanhopes. He saw her engaging mother and daughter in animated conversation, saw her making them known to her and Damerel's various relations and saw her, too, presenting Miss Stanhope with a dance partner. Witnessing his hostess in action, Percy could not help but feel a certain awe. For all that Miss Stanhope had caused the Damerels untold grief, from the moment she became a guest in their house, Lady Damerel had risen above her personal feelings to treat her with all the courtesy and care true hospitality required. Miss Stanhope was not to be called to account or made uncomfortable under her roof; Percy understood her position and resolved to follow her lead. The consequence of this, he realized, was that he would have to postpone revealing what he'd learned to Callie. He'd had no intention, personally, of confronting Miss Stanhope, but there was no guarantee his feisty cousin would show the same restraint. The revelation would have to wait until the morrow.

Percy was engaged to partner Callie in a schottische, and was rather dreading having to guard his tongue with her for the entire length of the dance when Enid came up to him in something of a flurry. "The most tiresome thing!" she told him, slightly short of breath. "Mr. Flavell trod on Callie's skirts as they were dancing just now and one of the flounces tore loose. She sent me to say she has gone to the repairing room to have it mended and will have to miss your dance."

"That's too bad," he returned, doing his best to hide his relief. "I hope the rip's not too great."

"No, no, a dozen stitches should do the trick." She cast a glance over her shoulder at the dance floor where couples were only just beginning to take their places. "You might secure another partner if you like," she observed. "There's time yet."

"Do you know, I think I'll pass. I could stand to catch my breath and take some refreshment. Can I fetch you something? A glass of punch or lemonade?"

"Thank you, no. I'm to stand up with Captain Lennox this set. Ah, there he is!" she said, directing a smile and a finger wave at the gentleman in question. "If you'll excuse me, Percy…"

He did so very readily and, as he was in truth quite thirsty, he took himself off to the refreshment table in search of a drink. He had ladled himself a cup of chilled punch, and had taken his first sip of the tangy concoction when Lady Damerel appeared at his elbow. She offered him the kind of tentative smile he recognized all too well from having seen it on other hostesses' faces and knew before she spoke what request she would make. Sure enough, "Are you perhaps free for this dance, Lord Percy?" she inquired.

He repressed a sigh and mustered a smile for her. "I am, as it happens."

"Ah! Then, would you kindly allow me to present you as a partner to one of my guests? It's a deal to ask, I know…"

"Not at all! It will be my pleasure."

She beamed at him with such gratitude, his slight annoyance melted away. "Thank you, Lord Percy! I felt sure I could rely on you! Now, if you'll just come this way, we had best make haste."

She began to move off and Percy, stopping only long enough to down one last gulp of punch, followed in her wake. She threaded her way so crisply and swiftly around several groups of guests, he nearly lost sight of her but then, of a sudden, she slowed, came to a halt and, turning back expectantly, waited for him to join her. When he drew within reach, she slipped an arm companionably through his, and, drawing him forward, presented him, to his utter dismay, to none other than Mrs. and Miss Stanhope.

"Ladies," Lady Damerel said pleasantly, "You are acquainted with Lord Percy, I believe?"

Miss Stanhope's lips tipped up in a slow smile, her eyes on Percy's sparkling with unholy merriment. "Oh, yes! We are quite old friends, Lord Percy and I."

Lady Damerel slanted him a meaningful smile, and, taking his prompt, he said in his most courteous manner, "Dare I hope you're not yet promised for this dance, Miss Stanhope?"

She inclined her head, mock graciously. "Your luck is in. I'm at liberty."

"Then, may I have the pleasure…?"

"Of course." She stepped forward, chin high, and laid her hand on his outstretched arm.

They had scarcely passed beyond Lady Damerel's hearing when she burst out in a laugh. "Oh, Lord!" she chortled. "Your face! I wish you could have seen it! The horror!" She threw him a look of mixed amusement and sympathy. "You weren't given any warning, were you? That was neatly done on Lady Damerel's part, but hardly fair play."

"It's no matter," Percy replied rather stiffly. "I would not have refused even had she been more forthcoming."

"Ah, yes! Your famous sense of what is due your hostess. No," she said, her hand tightening on his arm when he would have led her onto the dance floor. "I would rather talk than dance. Let us find some place to sit."

"As you wish."

They found an empty loveseat by a window blessedly open to the cooler, fresher air off the garden. Miss Stanhope sank gracefully onto the seat, and, gathering her full skirts to one side, made room enough for Percy. She gestured at the scene before them, the wave of her hand encompassing the people standing about the edge of the dance floor, some following the dance with interest, others engaged in conversation. "This is all your doing, is it not? This crowd?" She motioned her head to where his mother still sat, now tête-à-tête with Lady Jarvis. "That is her Grace of Claiborne, I believe, and there, just behind her, your brothers and their wives. They're all here at your urging, as, I suspect, are a great many others."

"My cousin Lady Callista…"

"Rallied all her many and sundry St. Cyr connections, yes, but it was your idea to start with." Percy neither confirmed nor denied this, and, after a moment, with a rueful shake of her head, she pursued, "Your parents were wrong to name you Percival. It ought to have been Galahad, the knight of purest chivalry, always riding to the rescue of any damsel in distress."

The light mockery in her tone brought heat to Percy's cheeks. "Not just any damsel."

"No," she conceded easily. "Quite right. Not every maid deserves a champion. Myself, as you appear to imply, most assuredly do not." She took up her fan and delivered a playful rap on his arm. "You have quite spoiled my fun, you know. All my considerable efforts were to be crowned tonight in the grand spectacle of Miss Damerel's humiliation, and instead, because of you, I'm denied my reward."

"I'm not sorry for it," Percy said, his voice hard. "In fact, I couldn't be happier. If any plan deserved to be thwarted, it was yours. What you did — the anguish you caused with your gossip and lies — it's despicable, unpardonable. And all for what? Could your pride not endure losing Hartshorne to a rival? Did marrying him mean so much you would coldly destroy Miss Damerel's reputation in order to win him back?"

If Miss Stanhope were aware of Percy's anger, she gave no indication. Instead, she made a show of looking pointedly about her. "If that had been my design, it would appear, from Hartshorne's absence, that I've succeeded there at least. And, should it transpire that he does, indeed, make me an offer, you may be sure I'll not refuse. But that was not my object, no. My grudge is entirely personal."

"So… what? You've been poisoned by the Lanyons against the Damerels and appointed yourself the avenging angel of the so-called wrongs perpetrated against them? Miss Damerel had to be brought low in retribution for the insult and injury your cousin sustained when she refused to honor their — supposedly — longstanding betrothal?"

Miss Stanhope swung to face him, her brow creased in confusion. "Roland, do you mean? He's nothing to do with this. I despise him quite as much as Miss Damerel does. Before Father came into his fortune, Roland had no use for me other than as a butt for his nasty jokes, and now he only ever seeks me out to cadge a few pounds. No, believe me, I have no issue with her rejecting him. It's not on his account I acted, or even my aunt's. The grievance is all my own."

Percy shook his head in frustration. "What offense could Miss Damerel, or her parents, have possibly committed against you to warrant such brutal reprisals?"

She considered him cooly, a challenge in her eyes. "You think her incapable of cruelty, then? Of unkindness toward a fellow creature?"

"With malicious intent? I do, yes."

She nodded an acceptance. "Then, there is little point in telling you a story you are not disposed to believe. It is a long story in any case, and cannot be told in the time remaining before the dance ends."

Percy, however, was not having it. "A pretty excuse and exceedingly convenient. Do you know what I think, Miss Stanhope? This is another of your feints. You have no sad story to tell, no real mistreatment to complain of, or at least none that rises to a justification of your actions."

She turned on him then, eyes flashing with anger and mouth open to deliver a no doubt blistering retort, but before she could, another voice was heard to say, "Percy! There you are, at last! I've been looking for you every…" Simon, taking in Miss Stanhope's barely banked fury and Percy's stony expression, slowed his approach and, coming to an awkward stand before them, said, "I'm interrupting, I see. Please accept my apologies. I have a message, though, for Percy, Miss Stanhope, and it cannot wait. It will only take a moment."

Miss Stanhope signaled her permission with a flip of her hand, and Percy, stepping a few paces away with Simon, learned that Helena had charged him with offering Percy the dinner dance. The implication was immediately clear: that dance had been reserved for Hartshorne and, with only two dances remaining before the supper break, she had given up on his coming. If confirmation were needed, Simon said, "Hartshorne has sent word that he's been 'unavoidably detained,' whatever that means. So, if you're agreeable, I will take your place for the next dance and you can partner Miss Damerel for the one after."

Percy could ask for nothing better and, consent given, he turned back to Miss Stanhope and found her wearing a superior smile. She'd apparently had no difficulty in following his exchange with Simon and purred in a satisfied tone, "It would appear the marquess has taken himself out of the running."

Percy did not reply to this except to remark, «And I am no longer engaged for the next dance, so unless you are promised? No? Then, there being no lack of time, let us have this story of yours, Miss Stanhope, if indeed such a one exists."