“She is rather beautiful, is she not?”

Hugh turned to see Nigel Coombs standing at his elbow staring across the room at Lady Priscilla where she stood with several other ladies. He would have liked to ignore the man but he dared not. Coombs was not a very influential man in London but he was notorious for passing on tidbits of information whether it be true or not.

It was more than likely that if Hugh snubbed the man, news of it, in some highly exaggerated form, would have spread through London in a matter of days. He had heard stories from his eldest brother, Philip, about Coombs and his less than exemplary history.

After a moment, Hugh nodded at the man. “Good evening, Coombs.”

Coombs looked at him for a while before saying, “Good evening, yourself, Repington.”

“You seem puzzled. Is there something amiss?” Hugh looked around as though he were trying to ascertain the problem.

“I am simply wondering if your reticence in answering the question means that you do not agree with me.”

Hugh furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “And what question was that?”

“I made the comment that Lady Priscilla is quite beautiful and asked your opinion.”

“And you were waiting for an answer?” Hugh asked giving the other man a long look.

Coombs looked mildly uncomfortable but pushed on. “Well, yes.”

Hugh had hoped to avoid answering but there seemed nothing for it. “Hmm. I thought your question was rather rhetorical. I suppose one would have to be blind not to see that she is beautiful.” Hugh waited, assuming Coombs would have more to say on the subject.

“I noticed that you and the lady were introduced the other night.”

Hugh only nodded in response.

Coombs smiled conspiratorially. “I expect you will be pursuing a courtship.”

“Perhaps,” Hugh told him. “We shall see what happens when I return to London.”

“Perhaps?" Coombs looked skeptical. "Surely you do not expect me to believe that you will not be pursuing Lady Priscilla.”

Just then Lady Priscilla glanced across the room at Hugh and smiled shyly. Hugh turned to Coombs. “I care not what you believe. If you will excuse me.”

Coombs opened his mouth to speak but Hugh was already walking away. He crossed the room and stopped near the group of young ladies that included Lady Priscilla.

“Good evening, Lady Priscilla.”

“Good evening, Mr Repington.”

“Are you enjoying the party?”

“Yes, it is quite lovely.” Lady Priscilla looked toward the dance floor. “The music is especially enjoyable tonight.”

Hugh smiled at her. The music began to swell signaling the next dance. “Yes, it is indeed. Would you like to dance?”

“Oh,” Lady Priscilla sounded surprised. Not that Hugh believed it but he appreciated her attempt. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

Lady Priscilla primly took his arm as he led her to the middle of the ballroom. She smiled up at him and he sought for something to say. “You look rather lovely tonight.”

She looked away shyly and murmured, “Why thank you, Mr Repington.”

He wondered if he should say more but she turned back at him to say, “I am so glad my mother insisted that we pay a visit to the modiste before we left London.”

Hugh had no idea how to reply so he simply said, “I can imagine.”

She looked confused for a moment but continued on. “I saw this dress and just loved it, but my mother did not think it was fashionable.”

Lady Priscilla paused and Hugh knew from conversations with Henrietta that it was best to wait. Lady Priscilla said nothing, he sighed and led them through the next turn hoping that the subject would soon change.

“Fortunately, Corrine, that is the modiste,” she looked at him to make sure he was paying attention. "She is French and is well acquainted with all of the latest fashions. She assured mother she could make the dress more fashionable and added the extra ruffles at the bottom and on the sleeves. It is simply perfect now.”

He continued to move them around the ballroom, suddenly noticing that Lady Priscilla had fallen silent. He looked down to see that she was pouting. She looked so much like Henrietta when she was younger that he almost laughed. Lady Priscilla surely would have been insulted if he laughed at her.

“Have I said something wrong?”

“No, it is that you have said nothing at all," she said with a shake of her head.

Without thinking, Hugh said, "About what?”

Lady Priscilla let out an exasperated huff. “Mr Repington, have you not been listening?”

The dance had ended and they moved to the edge of the ballroom. “Oh.” Hugh stopped and turned to face her. “My apologies. You are quite right. Your dress is perfect indeed. And although I am far from an expert, I believe your dress is the top of fashion.”

“Why thank you for noticing, Mr Repington,” Lady Priscilla simpered, looking up at him adoringly.

“Would you like a refreshment? I believe Lady Eastbridge has set up the dining room with punch and cakes.”

“Yes, that would be lovely,” Lady Priscilla agreed.

Hugh led her from the ballroom and into the dining room where he handed her glass of punch. They moved aside as another group of people entered the dining room. Lady Julianna smiled as she waited for another gentleman to hand her a glass of punch.

“Good evening, Lady Julianna,” he said and nodded to the gentleman.

“Good evening, Mr Repington,” she said. “Lady Priscilla.”

“Good evening,” Lady Priscilla said with a small amount of disdain. Her eyes narrowing as she looked past her at the gentleman beside her.

The gentleman turned and smiled at them, Hugh felt himself bristle and sought to appear normal. The man’s smile seemed too practiced and Hugh recognized the man as Lord Norsely. It was not surprising as he looked much different than the last time Hugh had seen him. He should have expected that though and the other man had been quite ill only a few months ago.

Lady Julianna and Lord Norsely had barely left the room by Lady Priscilla turned to him.

“Do you know who that was?”

“Yes, I met Lady Julianna the other—” he began but Lady Priscilla interrupted him.

“No, it is Lord Norsely.” Lady Priscilla looked rather gleeful before her face grew serious. “I do not know if you have heard the latest news. Lord Norsely was recently involved in quite a messy scandal.”

He smiled at her, sure that she was trying to be humorous. She apparently did not notice his reaction as she went on almost enthusiastically. She was clearly enjoying a moment of gossip and did not care to detect his reluctance to participate in such ill words.

“As you know, Lord Norsely is the heir to the Earl of Marsfeld. He currently holds the title of Viscount of Norsely.” She looked at him with a knowing smirk. “A few months ago, he fell ill, the physician was called. The family was told that the viscount was afflicted with a fever and that he would improve with care and medicine. Only he did not improve and seemed to worsen under the physician’s supervision."

Lady Priscilla paused for a moment and Hugh thought he would comment but she continued on before he could speak.

"Lord Norsely has a younger brother, Andrew Townsend. You probably know him as he is usually at every social event in London. It turns out that Mr Townsend was pouring out his brother's medicine and replacing it with a mixture of water and whiskey. Lord Norsely nearly died."

Finding an opportunity to try to stop the awkward conversation, Hugh simply nodded, "Terrible. Shall we return to the ballroom?"

"Yes, thank you. I thought the sordid event was terrible, as well," she replied with a bright smile and took his arm. "Mr Townsend was in the midst of courting that strange girl, what was her name?"

Lady Priscilla's voice trailed off and Hugh scowled at her.

She did not bother to notice his reaction and suddenly smiled again. "Oh, yes. Her name was Miss Beatrice Clarke. Mr Townsend was nearly caught alone with her but there was some confusion. As it was then discovered that Mr Townsend was thought to have compromised Lady Judith Powell."

Hugh paused at the door to the ballroom, sure that Lady Priscilla would halt her story now that they were joining other people.

"Yes, it turns out that Lady Judith and Mr Townsend were forced to marry and have been fairly banished to a family home in Cumbria." Lady Priscilla sniffed. "And Miss Beatrice's reputation would have suffered if not for some officer just home from the war. I heard that he gallantly stepped in to ask for her hand, though why a man would do such a thing is beyond me. It was a rather fortuitous turn of events for Miss Beatrice if I am being completely honest. She likely did not deserve such graciousness. It all caused quite a scene at Lord and Lady Dalverton's ball."

"Yes, I did hear about the situation." Hugh was in such shock at her telling of the story that he could not manage to say more.

It amazed him that she did not know that he would have already heard the story. His elder brother, Charles, was the gallant officer that Lady Priscilla had mentioned. Charles and Miss Beatrice had formed a friendship during the beginning of the Season and he had already planned on proposing to her before the trouble with Mr Townsend had begun at the Dalverton's party. It was the misbehaviour of Mr Townsend and then actions by Lady Taltham, Miss Beatrice's mother, that had caused Charles to act publicly.

While Hugh understood that Lady Priscilla had most likely not known that Charles was his brother, he could not mistake the glee in which she shared the horrible details with yet another person. Hugh rather liked Miss Beatrice, and Lady Priscilla's characterization of her and the events was not to his liking at all.

Hugh walked Lady Priscilla over to the other young ladies that she had been talking with earlier. He bowed slightly. "Thank you, Lady Priscilla."

"Thank you, Mr Repington," she replied demurely.

"Good evening," he said to her and nodded to the other ladies, ignoring the pout that was forming on her pretty face. He smiled again and then walked away wondering whether Lady Priscilla was as perfect as he had originally thought.