“Hush! He will hear you.”
Benedict had excellent hearing, but he gave no sign that he had heard this exchange.
“Here he is, Millie,” cried Lady Dalrymple, seizing him by the arm as he tried to slip past. “She is longing to dance with you, Sir Benedict. My son Frederick you know. Freddie holds the seat for Little Wicking, of course, in Cumberland. Why, you must see one another all the time in Parliament.”
Freddie Carteret, who spent as little time in the House of Commons as possible, and even less than that with his constituents in Cumberland, bowed. Lady Dalrymple’s youngest son was good-looking in a harmless, silly way. He was blind as a mole, but too vain to wear spectacles. He bumped into people constantly, especially buxom young women.
“Ah! The famous Sir Benedict Wayborn, champion of the common man,” he said, baring his yellow teeth in an ironic smile. “I have heard you described as the New Cicero…but you have never yet won an argument over me, sir!”
“Arguing with you would be a complete waste of my time,” Benedict agreed.
These pleasantries had scarcely been exchanged, and, what with this and that, Sir Benedict had not yet been prevailed upon to ask Miss Carteret to dance when Mr. King and Lord Ludham came bustling up to them. “Lady Dalrymple, his lordship has expressed a desire to be acquainted with your amiable daughter. May I present the Earl of Ludham to you?”
Miss Carteret’s moment had come at last, and she made the most of it, throwing her shoulders back and smiling as well as she could without revealing her less than perfect teeth.
Benedict recognized Serena’s cousin as the gentleman in the blue coat from the Pump Room. As before, Lord Ludham seemed to be in search of an elusive someone, and, even as he said everything a gentleman ought to say to the viscountess and her daughter, his blue eyes scanned the crowd eagerly.
“Do you dance, my lord?” Millicent asked him breathlessly, not willing to leave the matter entirely to chance. The question came perilously close to soliciting the gentleman, but it was still within the bounds of propriety—just.
“I do dance, Miss Carteret,” his lordship replied. Miss Carteret’s lips puckered in a smile, but her delight was soon replaced by less agreeable feelings, as his lordship continued, “And, if Miss Vaughn will be attending tonight’s ball, I shall ask her for the honor, for she is the most beautiful creature I ever saw! I understand she is a great friend of yours, Miss Carteret. How fortunate you are in your acquaintance! I intend to ask her for the first dance. I would dance them both with her, but, I understand, that is not at all the thing.”
Lady Dalrymple pretended to misunderstand his lordship’s meaning. She was all smiles. “Of course, my lord. Millicent will be delighted to give you the first dance.”
“Indeed, my lord,” cried Millicent, blinking rapidly.
“I’d ask you, Miss Carteret,” Ludham replied, “but I must keep myself free, in case Miss Vaughn arrives late. Indeed, I came here tonight with no other purpose but to dance with your good friend. Is she coming, do you know?”
Lady Dalrymple glared at Mr. King.
Mr. King said hastily, “I did try to tell his lordship that your ladyship and Miss Carteret are not acquainted with Miss Vaughn. However—”
Ludham laughed. “Of course they are acquainted, King,” he scoffed. “I have seen Miss Carteret and Miss Vaughn walking together, in Milsom Street, arm and arm.”
“Oh, Miss Vaughn!” cried Lady Dalrymple. “I thought you said Miss Fawn! Miss Vaughn, of course, is Millicent’s dearest friend. They have been knowing one another forever. We stayed with the Vaughns in Ireland for two months last summer. Such delightful people! The mother is English, of course, which helps. The girls became friends at once, but then, Millicent has such a sweet and generous nature. She makes friends wherever she goes. Why, they were Christian-naming one another within three days.”
“What is her Christian name?” Lord Ludham asked.
Lady Dalrymple batted her eyes. “Why, Millicent, of course. We call her Millie.”
“What an extraordinary coincidence!” exclaimed Ludham. “Miss Vaughn and your daughter having the same name.”
“Oh, was it Miss Vaughn you meant?” Lady Dalrymple sniffed. “She has a very silly name, I’m afraid. Cosima. It’s too ridiculous for words. Poor Miss Vaughn! She has never been presented, you know, and I daresay she never will be. Not our sort, really. But we quite charitably took her under our wing.”
Benedict made no comment; after all, it was a woman’s prerogative to change her mind. Lady Dalrymple was well within her rights to deny this Miss Vaughn one day and claim her the next. It was no concern of his.
“Cosima,” Lord Ludham said, pleased. “I’ve never met a Cosima in the whole course of my life. It’s Italian, isn’t it?”
“Such pretentious people, I know,” said Lady Dalrymple. She placed her fan on Ludham’s arm. “But I do pity them. The mother, Lady Agatha, as she calls herself, is ill, which prevents poor Miss Vaughn from going anywhere much. The father, Colonel Vaughn, has deserted them completely. Gambling debts, I’m afraid. Miss Vaughn and her sister are as good as portionless, and all they have to live on is Lady Agatha’s tiny little annuity. They have lost everything.”
Lord Ludham did not seem to find anything disagreeable with this picture. “Oh, she has a sister, has she?” he said eagerly.
“A mere child,” Lady Dalrymple sniffed. “Wilful and wild. Lady Agatha can do nothing with her, and there is no money for a governess. I daresay Miss Vaughn will make someone an adequate governess herself, when the mother goes, and she is forced to earn her bread. When the time comes, I shall be more than happy to find her a place in some respectable household.”
“I am glad to hear that the Vaughns are not without friends,” Benedict said dryly.
Lady Dalrymple had forgotten that Sir Benedict had been present in the Pump Room when she had denied knowing the Vaughns. She remembered now, horribly, but there was nothing she could do about it. “I consider it my Christian duty to help the Miss Vaughns of the world,” she said sweepingly. “It is especially hard on the pretty ones, I think. Their vanity leads them so quickly down the wrong path, if they have no money.”
Millicent could no longer contain her spite. “They are so poor, my lord, that they have no credit in any of the shops in town. Miss Vaughn is obliged to pay in cash wherever she goes! You mentioned Milsom Street, my lord. Well, it was very shocking for me to see Miss Vaughn actually pay for her ribbons. I have not seen her since; I daresay she is too ashamed to see me.”
“I don’t care if a girl has twenty thousand pounds or twenty,” said Ludham. “I’m a simple man. I like Miss Vaughn, and I want to dance with her. I am not mercenary.”
“No!” cried Lady Dalrymple. “Nor am I! What I cannot bear is being deceived!”
A slight frown appeared in Ludham’s eyes. He was not the cleverest of men, and, this being the case, he had been deceived often enough to know that he disliked it as much as Lady Dalrymple did. “Deceived, madam? In what way were you deceived?”
“The Heiress of Castle Argent, they called her in Dublin!” Lady Dalrymple complained bitterly. “Anyone would think she was fabulously wealthy the way they talk about her over there. Anyone would think she was the Queen of Ireland.”
Ludham was instantly diverted. “Does she really live in a castle?” he cried.
“Castle? A farmhouse with battlements!” Lady Dalrymple squawked. “When I think of how I suffered there—! Such cramped quarters! Such indifferent servants! Such noise from that enormous hell-hound