Casriel bowed his acquiescence. “May I pin my hopes on the good-night waltz?”
“I’ll save it for no other,” Della said. She couldn’t very well offer Casriel her hand, because Effington had yet to turn loose of it.
“And, Lady Susannah,” Will said, “will you allow me to lead you out for the supper waltz?”
Susannah was too relieved to assess Will’s motives, and too troubled. Something in Effington’s entire bearing was off. Had he implied that Della could not help having a sister who disliked dogs?
Or that Della could not help who her family was?
“I would be honored to stand up with you, Mr. Dorning, and thank you for the punch.” Susannah took a sip, though the drink was awful. Syrup of strawberries mixed with lemonade, probably, and any ice had long since lost the battle with the ballroom’s heat.
“We have another set before the supper waltz,” Will said. “Might you favor me with a turn on the terrace, Lady Susannah?”
Bless him. “Fresh air would be lovely.” She passed her punch to Ash Dorning and accepted Will’s proffered arm.
And still Effington remained beside Della, her hand trapped in his.
*
“I will find a muzzle that fits my brother Sycamore, and require him to wear it when we are in polite company,” Will said. “Though he made a valid point.”
Beside him Lady Susannah wore a pained smile. If she were a dog, Will would have suspected digestive upset, or the sort of bone weariness that came from being hunted too hard. In the park that morning, she’d looked at peace, and utterly absorbed in her book.
Also lovely. Will hadn’t disturbed her with so much as a greeting because she’d always been happiest when absorbed in her books.
“I do not know what exactly that conversation was about,” Lady Susannah said as they started down the corridor toward the terrace, “but Effington is offended.”
Effington was a strutting buffoon whose dogs were to be pitied.
“The viscount is enamored of Lady Della, nonetheless,” Will said. Casriel clearly liked the girl too, though not enough that Will’s hopes were stirred.
“Anybody should be charmed by Della.” Lady Susannah stopped six yards short of the terrace doors. Behind them, the orchestra had swung into a gavotte, a lively, loud, stomping dance. Ahead of them, raucous laughter came from the torch-lit terrace.
“My lady, are you well?”
She untangled their arms. “A headache has got hold of me, Mr. Dorning. Men will be smoking out on the terrace, and people will remark that you and I both walked together and then later danced the supper waltz. I should not have tasted that vile punch, and—”
“In here,” Will said, taking her by the hand. “The library is on the next floor up. This is the parlor set aside for Lord Holderby’s maiden aunts. They overfeed their dachshunds, but love the dogs dearly.”
The parlor was dark, so Will appropriated a lamp from the sconces in the corridor, lit a branch of candles, and replaced the lamp in the corridor.
“The cooler air is lovely,” Lady Susannah said when Will returned. “How do you know Lord Holderby’s aunts?”
Will closed the door, lest they be discovered and her ladyship forced to accept the addresses of a man who could barely support her.
“I’m not sure whether the heat or the noise is the greater challenge in a crowded ballroom,” Will said, though the greatest challenge was keeping his brothers from trouble. “I know Henrietta and Helen Holderby because I gave them their dogs. Castor and Pollux were not faring well in the badger pits.” The badgers, of course, fared far worse, but clearly those two dogs had not been raised to anticipate violence from any quarter.
The baiter, fortunately, had been one of the ones with a backward sort of conscience, at least as far as the dogs were concerned. He’d accepted coin for the dachshunds, though only after assurances from Will of utter discretion regarding the transaction.
Lady Susannah sank onto a sofa beneath the window. “Your brother Sycamore reminded me of a cornered badger. He’s very fierce.”
Will came down beside her, hoping they were past the more extreme demands of manners.
“He’s young, but, yes, fierce as well. I owe you an apology, my lady.”
Susannah rubbed her fingers across her brow. “For your brothers’ behavior? They were simply trying to be gallant. I cannot fathom what queer start plagues Effington. He seems taken with Della, but last night, when she was on the verge of becoming a pariah, Effington was nowhere to be found.”
Will had made inquiries on that very point. Effington had been in the card room, with a clear view of the ballroom’s dance floor.
Now was not the time to cast aspersion on Lady Della’s lone suitor. “The apology I owe you, my lady, is for my behavior as we walked home last evening. I presumed, and though a gentleman might mean well, when his words and actions—”