To Have and to Hoax(76)
“Mr. Cartham,” Diana said, her tone curt to the point of impoliteness. “I do apologize for depriving you of Lady Emily’s lovely company, but I’m afraid I’ve a pressing need for her at the moment. It’s a bit of an emergency, I’m afraid.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, then played her trump card. “A ladies’ problem.”
Mr. Cartham might have made a fortune from his gambling hell; he might have been well-connected; and he might have—according to rumor—known his way around certain criminal elements of the London underworld—but even he was not so foolhardy as to face the prospect of a “ladies’ problem” with complete sangfroid.
“Of course,” he said hastily, dropping Emily’s arm as though it were a blazing-hot poker. “I relinquish her to your care.”
“You are all that is magnanimous,” Diana replied—Violet thought that, had they been characters in a novel, Diana would have been wielding a rapier and offering an elaborate courtly bow, somehow all while twirling her impressive moustache.
“What on earth was that about?” Emily asked as they darted out of the ballroom and into the corridor that lined it.
“We were saving you, of course,” Diana said impatiently as they turned right and walked toward the ladies’ retiring room, their footsteps muffled by the heavy carpet. “I couldn’t allow you to languish in that man’s company.”
“Diana,” Emily said, an uncharacteristic note of impatience in her voice, “it’s entirely possible that I might have to marry Mr. Cartham someday—someday soon, in fact,” she added, and Violet could not miss the hint of sadness in her voice. “I’m not getting any younger, you know.”
“And you’re still the most beautiful woman in any ballroom,” Diana said loyally.
“That isn’t the point,” Emily insisted, and Violet and Diana looked at her in surprise. “I shall have to grow accustomed to the man at some time, and I can’t do so if you are constantly conspiring to keep me from his company.”
“Darling, his company makes you miserable,” Diana said. She paused for a moment before adding, “And besides, I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed to find Lord Julian Belfry’s company rather enjoyable.”
Emily blushed. “He asked me to dance, and my dance card wasn’t full. It would have been the height of rudeness to refuse him.”
“Yes, of course,” Diana said with a grin. “I am certain that is the only reason you had for dancing with him—mere politeness.”
“Lord Julian would be an entirely unsuitable candidate for marriage—” Emily began, but Diana cut her off with an incredulous laugh.
“More unsuitable than Mr. Cartham from heaven only knows where? I think not.”
“And,” Emily continued, as though Diana hadn’t spoken, “he has given no indication that he has the slightest interest in matrimony.”
“Well, of course not,” Diana said impatiently. “Men never do have the slightest interest in matrimony, until they suddenly do.”
While Violet thought that Diana might be sticking her nose where it didn’t belong at the moment, even she was forced to privately acknowledge the truth of this statement. It had certainly proved true in her own case—James had once confessed to her that, prior to meeting her, he hadn’t thought to marry until he was thirty. Instead, they were five years into their marriage, and he still had yet to achieve that lofty age.
“I don’t wish to discuss this anymore, Diana,” Emily concluded, a note of steel in her voice that Violet thought Diana would be wise not to ignore. Diana evidently had thoughts along the same lines, because as they slipped into the ladies’ retiring room—which was mercifully unoccupied at the moment—she redirected her focus to Violet.
“You and Audley looked quite cozy,” she said, sinking down onto a settee in the small sitting room. Violet sat down next to her and set about unbuttoning her gloves. It had been quite warm in the ballroom, and the temptation of air—even the overheated air of this small, stuffy room—on her bare skin was too great to resist.
“We were waltzing,” she said shortly, stripping off first one glove, then the other. “Close proximity is one of the requirements of the dance, I believe.”
“I do not know what I did to deserve such vexing friends,” Diana announced to no one in particular. “It seems a cruel fate for one such as myself.”
Violet let out a rather unladylike snort and exchanged an amused glance with Emily.
“For your information,” she said, and Diana leaned forward eagerly, rather like a dog beneath a table hoping to receive scraps of food, “James and I were in the midst of a conversation that I think had real promise—until you and that brother of yours so rudely interrupted us.”
Diana moaned dramatically, flinging a hand to her forehead as she leaned back against the cushions of the settee. “I shall never forgive Penvale,” she said morosely. “Just think—if he had not been so determined to seize Audley for one of their masculine tête-à-têtes, you and Audley might have . . . I don’t know . . .” She trailed off for a moment, seemingly trying to think of some suitably scandalous behavior. “Kissed on the ballroom floor,” she finished dramatically.