“Delilah, you know you’re not supposed to be down here.” Daphne shook her head at her cousin. The girl was sitting on a tufted ottoman in a corner of the ballroom, eating a tea cake. She wore her best pink gown with a wide pink bow on her head, and she swung her white stockinged feet in time to the music.
It was half past eleven and the ball was busy and crowded. Daphne was relieved the party had been a success, despite her cousin’s sneaking about. She’d broken away from the large crowd in the ballroom to chastise Delilah whom she’d spotted in the corner. “You promised you’d stay upstairs and only peek down once in a while.”
“I know, Cousin Daphne, but j’adore the music and j’adore the dancing and the beautiful gowns. I just couldn’t help myself. Not to mention there are tea cakes down here and nary a one upstairs.”
Daphne put her hands on her hips. “Despite the plethora of tea cakes, you shouldn’t be here. I will send up a maid with some tea cakes for you.”
“Why shouldn’t I be here?” Delilah asked. “J’adore a ball.” She took a large bite of tea cake.
“Your debut isn’t for five more years.” Daphne tapped her slipper against the floor.
Delilah finished chewing. Her subsequent sigh was long and exaggerated. “It might as well be five more decades for as successful as it’s certain to be.”
“Why do you say that?” Daphne asked, frowning.
“Allow me to call attention to the fact that my bow is askew.” Delilah pointed at her head. “I cannot dance.” She pointed at her feet. “And I have an unfortunate jelly stain on my bodice which I was hoping no one would notice but now I must reveal its existence in order to prove my point.” She pointed at her bodice where, indeed, a dark red stain was visible.
“And what is your point?” Daphne asked.
“That I am a mess. I have no grace, no style, no bearing. Nor poise. I have absolutely no poise to speak of. And you’re constantly telling me my French needs work.”
“Well, it does. But I have an idea. My new maid is French. Perhaps she can help you learn more while you’re here.”
Delilah beamed at that. “Oh, j’adore that idea. Thank you very much, Cousin Daphne. I should quite like to meet your French maid.” Then she frowned. “But it doesn’t help with the poise nor the grace.”
“Poise and grace? You think those things are important?” Daphne smiled down at her cousin.
“Of course. Look at Miss Pembrooke.” Delilah nodded into the crowd where one of the Season’s most coveted young ladies stood holding a flute of champagne in an elegant, gloved hand. “I am not elegant,” Delilah said with a sigh. “And most of my gloves are stained.”
“You have plenty of time to sort it out, Delilah. Don’t be so harsh with yourself.”
Just then, Daphne’s friends Owen and Alexandra Monroe broke away from the crowd and came over to where Daphne and Delilah were talking. A young man was with them. He looked to be about seventeen, tall and straight-backed, completely at ease, if bored, in a ballroom. He was dark haired and blue eyed and ever so handsome.
Daphne turned to greet her new guests. “Lady Alexandra! Lord Owen! So good to see you again.”
“Thank you for having us, Lady Daphne,” Lady Alexandra said. “Have you met my brother, Lord Thomas?”
“Ah yes, your brother, the Marquess of Huntfield.” Alexandra’s father was a duke and her younger brother the heir.
“That’s right.” Alexandra smiled. “He’s on leave from Oxford and I insisted on his coming with us this evening.”
The young man bowed formally to Daphne. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Daphne.”
“I do hope you’re not too bored by a stuffy old ton ball, Lord Thomas.”
“On the contrary,” he said smoothly. “I find it quite amusing. I’ve got a bet on how long it takes the middle button on Lord Hoppington’s waistcoat to burst and Lady Hammock’s turban will certainly tumble from her head before the night is through. That ought to be a sight.” There was a twinkle in his eye.
At this, Delilah let out a delighted burst of laughter. She promptly clasped her inappropriately ungloved hand over her mouth.
Daphne turned to her. There was no help for it. “Lord Thomas, may I introduce you to Lady Delilah Montebank? She shouldn’t be here as she’s yet to make her debut, but such rules don’t daunt her, I’m afraid. Allow me to apologize in advance for anything inappropriate she says.”
Delilah promptly rolled her eyes at Daphne and gave Thomas a wide grin before patting the seat next to her. “Oh, Lord Thomas. I do believe we are going to be fast friends. For I, too, have been eyeing Lord Hoppington’s button and the precarious state of Lady Hammock’s turban. If you’ve any more such delightful things to say, do come sit by me.”
Thomas grinned in return and promptly took a seat.
“Do you like tea cake?” Delilah asked.
“Who doesn’t?”
Daphne was immediately convinced the two were destined to be fast friends. She turned back to Alex and Owen and shook her head. “She’s certain to be hideously inappropriate.”
Alexandra waved a gloved hand in the air. “Thomas can be similarly inappropriate. It’s Mother’s despair that he spends more of his time gambling with stable grooms and racing his horses than preparing for the esteemed role of duke one day.”
Daphne glanced at the two young people. They were already engaged in a happy conversation, talking and laughing. Daphne would no doubt get written up in the papers tomorrow for letting her scandalous cousin into the ballroom, but she had more important things to worry about. At least Lord Thomas seemed to be keeping Delilah preoccupied. She threaded her arms through both Alexandra’s and Owen’s and walked away with them.
“There’s something I wanted to ask you both about.” She lowered her voice. “How well do either of you know my brother-in-law?”