A Dandy in Disguise

Two

TwoNot that Miss Grace was speaking in another language. More, er, flirting actually,” the gentleman continued, his speech more and more hesitant as Lord Pemberton-Howe’s face took on an increasingly ruddy hue, “but… well… might have a word with her?”

His voice petered out as he noticed Lord Pemberton-Howe’s hands tighten into fists. Rose knew that her father would not create a scene in public, but this piece of information, so soon after her own faux-pas, was clearly proving to be too much for him. She put a restraining hand on his arm.

“And who might you be, sir, to have met my daughter?” Lord Pemberton-Howe asked.

“Er, Pip Haston, at your service, sir.” The gentleman bowed. “Was walking past a bookstore when she popped out. Nearly bowled straight into me, and then started giggling and talking at me, you know how girls do, only we hadn’t been introduced. Said as much, so she stuck out her hand and introduced herself! ”

Rose’s father paled.

“Oh, dear. I’ll speak with her, Papa. Tomorrow,” Rose said, clutching more tightly on to her father’s arm.

“How many daughters do you have, my lord?” Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps asked, turning the conversation quickly onto safer waters. Mr. Haston took advantage of the distraction to disappear into the crowd once more. Rose flashed Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps a quick smile of gratitude.

“Hmm? Oh, er, three. Rose is the eldest. And then there is Aglaia, and then Thalia.”

Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps gave a delighted laugh. “Ah, the Three Graces. Dare I ask if your full name is Euphrosyne, Miss Grace?”

Rose was surprised. She had not thought to expect this level of erudition from a gentleman dressed as magnificently as Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps. Although, since he’d clearly understood her Greek, she shouldn’t be surprised. “Why, yes, as a matter of fact, it is, but I have always been called Rose.”

The smile that slowly spread over his face made Rose feel like giggling once more.

Rose folded her fan away and returned his smile. There was something different about this man. She could not put her finger on it, but somehow, despite his dandified appearance, she continued to feel the certain rush of understanding between them. In his company, the evening was so much nicer, more interesting.

“Have you been reading Greek mythology recently, Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps?” Rose asked.

“Fungy, please.” Rose nodded, and Fungy continued smoothly, “Shouldn’t be too interested in the classics, Miss Grace, nor, perhaps, speak the language publicly. It’s completely understandable that you should know it, since your father is so well known in archaeological fields, but it is simply not the thing. ‘The height of cleverness is being able to conceal it. ’”

“De La Rochefoucauld!” Rose’s father exclaimed, quite pleased with himself for having known the source of the quote.

Rose wished she could be annoyed with Fungy for reprimanding her in public. But he had done it in such a pleasant way that she simply could do nothing but acquiesce.

“A young lady should know nothing of the classics, no matter who her father is,” the duke huffed.

Rose immediately felt her hackles rise. She narrowed her eyes, ready to attack, when Fungy interceded. “Ah, but a woman beautiful in mind as well as in form is a thing indeed to behold.”

“Who said that?” Lord Pemberton-Howe asked, still caught up in the game of quotes.

Fungy gave him a brilliant smile. “I just did.”

Rose nearly hit herself in the eye with her fan, as her hand flew up to her mouth to stifle her giggles. At a quick flick of her wrist, her fan opened and she used it to cover her mouth.

No one had ever said anything so sweet and charming to her! Perhaps this was going to be more fun than she had thought. Even her father looked amused.

“That is an unusual bracelet you are wearing, Miss Grace,” Fungy said, holding his quizzing glass to his eye in order to get a better look at it.

“Thank you,” Rose said, touching her bracelet. “It was my mother’s.”

“It is a coin from Macedonia. On its head is Artemis—or Diana, as the Romans called her…”

“Papa,” Rose replaced her hand on her father’s arm to stop his impromptu lecture before he began in earnest. “I don’t think Fungy needs to hear the entire history of the coin.”

“Oh, er, yes, of course.”

“But perhaps some other time, my lord,” Fungy said, politely.

They were quietly joined at that moment by a rather plain, brown-haired young woman. “Miss Grace, have you met my daughter, Harriet?” Lord Halsbury asked.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Rose said. Although she had been enjoying her conversation with Fungy, meeting another young woman her own age was just what she needed in order to put a foot forward in this strange society. And it would be nice to make a new friend.

Miss Halsbury was introduced to the other gentlemen, but instead of speaking with them, she turned to Rose and took a small step away from the gentlemen so that they could speak without disturbing them. “How are you enjoying your first party, Miss Grace?”

Rose looked at the other woman in amazement. “How did you know that this was my first party?”

“Oh, I was watching you earlier and you looked rather nervous, so I just assumed… But perhaps I’m wrong?”

“No. No, in fact, you are absolutely correct. Is it yours as well?” Rose asked, hoping that perhaps the other woman was in the same position as she.

“Oh, no. I am nearly one and twenty. I have been out for years,” she said.

Rose nodded. She did suspect that that had been too much to hope for. “I’m the same age, but we’ve only just returned from Greece.” .

She noticed Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps being beckoned to by Lord Halsbury, and watched him move away with a sinking heart. She had hoped that she’d get a chance to speak with him some more, but she supposed she should be happy to have Miss Halsbury to speak with, and perhaps Mr.— Fungy would come back and speak with her again after he was done speaking with Lord Halsbury.

“It must have been fascinating to live abroad,” Miss Halsbury said, trying to reclaim Rose’s attention.

Rose, however, was watching Fungy as Lord Halsbury spoke quietly into his ear and then handed him a card, which Fungy immediately slipped into his waistcoat pocket.

To her surprise, she felt an odd void, even as she stood speaking with Miss Halsbury in the midst of the crowded ballroom. Fungy had such an air about him, a vibrancy despite his outward appearance of boredom. Hopefully, he would return soon.

She turned back to Miss Halsbury. What had she asked? Oh yes, living abroad. “Yes, indeed, it was quite interesting, only… only I am afraid we never really had much in the way of society. My mother did her best to teach me how to go on in society, but I’m finding my social skills to be severely lacking. I do hope you will excuse me, and correct me, if I make any mistakes.”

Sadly, when he was finished speaking with Lord Halsbury, Fungy moved even further away to speak with another young woman and her mama.

Miss Halsbury laughed lightly. “I am certain that you will do quite well, nonetheless,” Miss Halsbury said. She, too, was keeping her eyes on Fungy, Rose noticed. She supposed he had the same effect on all young women.

“I hope so,” Rose answered. “There seem to be so many things one needs to know in order to go on properly.”

Rose watched as the girl he was speaking with smoothed down her dress in such a way that it looked as if Fungy had just complimented her on it.

She found herself smoothing down her own silk dress.

“Fashion is certainly one thing you do not need assistance with,” Miss Halsbury said, eyeing her gown.

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t know the first thing about what is fashionable and what is not. My sisters and I simply went to a modiste who told us precisely what to have made.”

Luckily, the high-waisted style that appeared to be the fashion was flattering to her tall, slender form. Although Miss Halsbury was not precisely fat, she certainly could not be considered thin either. Her ample bosom seemed to be in danger of spilling out of the top of her dress. All of the flounces at the bottom of her gown gave the impression that she was rather short and squat, which, Rose realized as she stood next to the young woman, she really wasn’t.

“Although,” her new friend went on, “your gown is really cut much too high. A lower-cut bodice is much more the fashion.”

Rose was certain she meant this in a friendly way. But still the remark made her feel rather self-conscious—perhaps she had erred in insisting that the modiste cut the dress more modestly.

“Er, yes, I know. I just couldn’t see myself showing so much,” Rose explained, awkwardly. It wasn’t that she didn’t have enough to show, it was just that she wasn’t used to such a display.

Miss Halsbury gave her a sympathetic smile. “You will get used to it.”

Fungy made the girl he was speaking with laugh, and then with a slight bow, moved on to charm the next young lady.

Rose swallowed back a sigh. He probably would not be back after all.

“Rose, you must remember that we are no longer in Greece! I cannot comprehend how you could have been so rude. It is sad to say, but you must not assume that the people around you have the same level of intelligence as you are used to.” Lord Pemberton-Howe said. He stood across from her, both hands leaning on the large mahogany table that dominated his study, littered with papers and correspondence as always. His coat and waistcoat were both unbuttoned and hanging open. If he leaned down just another inch, his silver buttons would probably thunk against the wood of his desk and remind him that he had not finished dressing properly.

Rose bowed her head. Her hands were clasped in front of her and she was biting the inside of her lip. Her father must have been truly upset about the previous night’s incident. She had hoped that he would forget all about it, and he hadn’t mentioned it immediately after they’d gotten home, but then she’d been called into the library first thing this morning.

She now absorbed his anger like a sponge, hoping that venting his annoyance would make him feel better so that her punishment wouldn’t be too severe.

“You are right, Papa. I see now that I was wrong to have spoken as I did. I am sorry,” she said, quietly. Perhaps a meek reply would help soften him. It usually did.

“I have never been so embarrassed. The Duke of Argyll, Rose! He is a strong supporter of the Archaeological Society and our work, as well as a well-respected member of the ton. You must watch your tongue. Surely your mother taught you how to behave properly in society?”

“Well, no, Papa. How could you ever think that she did? In fact, she told me that it would be best if I stayed away from society altogether. You know that she believed that it’s no more than a market for girls to be sold off to the highest bidder—or for married ladies with titled husbands to prove their own importance to those lower on the social scale.”

Lord Pemberton-Howe frowned at his daughter, but nodded reluctantly. He said nothing for a full minute, but stood running his hand through what little hair there was left on his head.

Rose felt a stab of concern. He was looking very tired all of a sudden and. Rose was reminded of the fact that his well-being was now as much her responsibility as that of her two younger sisters.

It had been a hard year for them all. Ever since her mother had died, Rose had done her best to take on her role, and to live up to it, but it wasn’t easy when all she’d ever had to worry about was her own interests. Rose was ashamed to admit that she mourned not only for her mother, but at times for herself as well.

“What is it, Papa?” she asked, scolding herself for even letting her mind wander into such selfish thoughts.

He shook his head and sat down heavily in his leather chair. “I’m afraid I cannot argue with what your mother taught you, but you still need to be more careful about how you behave in public. And, although I have no desire to sell you off, I…” he paused for a moment, looking pained. “Please, Rose, you must seriously look about you for a husband.”

“What are you saying, Papa?” Rose sat down on the chair just behind her, her knees suddenly too weak to hold her up. Was caring for her father and sisters going to be the least of her worries, then? She lowered her gaze to the floor.

“You know that you need to find a husband, my dear.”

“Well, yes, but I want to fall in love, just like you and Mama. I want a gentleman to court me, to read poems to me, to take me for moonlit walks.” She refocused her eyes back onto her father. “I don’t want to get married to just anyone. I want to marry a man I love, and who loves me with all of his heart and soul.”

Her father gave her a sad smile. “I would wish all of those things for you, my dear, I would. But, unfortunately, we no longer have that luxury.”

“I don’t understand, Papa.” Rose was glad she was sitting down, for she was beginning to feel oddly light-headed.

“I am sorry, my dear, but you need to marry. Quickly. We do not have the time for you to look for love. You need to marry someone with money, soon. I don’t care for a title, but…” Her father let out a heart-felt sigh. “Our finances are stretched beyond their limits. We cannot continue in this fashion for much longer.”

“But surely…” No, this could not be happening.

“No. There is nothing left.” He shifted through the papers on his desk. “There is no money coming in from my estate, and I have already spent everything that your mother brought to our marriage on our last archaeological expedition. That’s why we had to return so quickly. There was no money to finish the work. And now…”

He paused and picked up a sheaf of bills. Rose recognized them—they were from the mantua makers, the fabric stores and other shops where she and her sisters had purchased their new wardrobes.

“…now,” her father continued, “we have all of these bills I cannot pay.”

“Not at all?”

He shook his head sadly. “Not one, Rosebud. I simply do not have the money.”

“How could there be no money from your estate, Papa? I thought you owned quite a lot of property.”

Her father looked a little confused, but shook his head decisively. “I do. But according to these reports from my steward, it’s just breaking even. There hasn’t been any profit for many years now.”

“And you trust your steward?” Rose had to ask.

“But of course I do! What a question, girl. Strate has been my steward for nearly fifteen years. He is as straight and honest as his name.”

Rose nodded. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right for her father to ask this of her, her heart screamed out, no matter that her mind was telling her that she was truly their only hope. Her father wouldn’t have asked this of her otherwise, she was certain. “But… how can I marry without love?” The words tumbled from her lips, by-passing her brain altogether.

She watched as he ran his fingers through his hair once again. Could he possibly look even more miserable than she felt?

Her father shrugged hopelessly. “It is what needs to be done. It is how most of society does it. You are our only hope now, Rose. Be a good girl and find a nice, wealthy man to marry. Quickly. I know you can do it.”

Rose was silent. There was nothing she could say. Nothing she could do but what her father said Marry rich, marry soon.

She stood up, feeling as if someone had placed a wooden beam across her shoulders. “I will do the best I can, Papa.”

“I know you will. You’re a good girl. I know I can count on you.” He placed the offending bills into a drawer and shut them away.

Rose smiled wanly at this typical action by her father. Hiding them would not make them go away, but at least they wouldn’t be staring him in the face.

And smiling and hiding were better alternatives than giving in to their true feelings.