Page 22 of Dropping the Ball

The statement filled Bernadette with dread. Visions of a troupe of actors or a collection of bears filled her mind. She would not put it past Lady Gladys to create chaos where she was trying to bring order.

“Anyone I know?” Alden asked, glancing between the two of them.

“You will see,” Lady Gladys said, shrugging one shoulder.

“I really should be informed now,” Bernadette said, trying to keep her voice steady when she wanted to shout at the cunning woman.

Lady Gladys merely smiled. “Oh, no. It will be much more entertaining for you to find out at the ball. Tell me, Lord Alden. How are your renovations progressing?”

Bernadette pursed her lips as Lady Gladys virtually dismissed her, even though she had not moved. It was war, alright, and Bernadette intended to win.

Chapter Eight

Alden did not like Lady Gladys’s answers to Bernadette’s questions. He didn’t like the way Lady Gladys was toying with Bernadette, like a cat playing with a tiny lizard. But what he liked least of all was that Lady Gladys appeared to know something about Bernadette that Alden himself did not know.

The more pressing irritation was the way Lady Gladys seemed to think he had invited her to shape his future by planning the ball instead of Bernadette.

“While I appreciate your interest in my affairs,” he said, trying to be polite and respectful of the bond he and Lady Gladys had once shared, and the fact that she was, after all, still a lady, “I have entrusted Lady Bernadette with the planning of my ball. That includes the guest list.”

He thought he had been firm yet still polite, but Lady Gladys merely laughed and reached her free hand across to lay on his wrist, as he’d just been tempted to do with Bernadette. “You will approve of my additions, Lord Alden,” she insisted, then set herteacup down. She shifted toward him in a way that excluded Bernadette and went on. “I’ve invited several of our old friends. Lord Nathan Gatwick, of course, and Lord Devon Walton. And you simply cannot have a ball without Lord Tottingham.”

Alden frowned. All three of the men in question were among Lady Gladys’s closest friends, all unmarried, and all had played some part in the drama of years ago, when Alden still had affectionate feelings for Lady Gladys.

“Lady Bernadette and I have only just decided on a date for the ball,” he said in a tight voice. “I do not see how you can have sent invitations to a ball when you do not know when it will take place.”

“Then you should tell me at once and I will send further information to those I have invited,” Lady Gladys said, as if it were the natural course of things.

She then did something that Alden considered borderline unthinkable by turning to Mercy, who had stood back in case she would be needed after bringing in the tea, and saying, “You might as well set an additional place at the luncheon table, as I am certain Lord Alden will be inviting me to stay and dine with him.”

Alden caught the slight intake of breath from Bernadette. Mercy glanced to him in panicked confusion, as if she needed his permission to deny the request of a noblewoman.

Alden simmered for a moment, jaw hardening. Lady Gladys was behaving abominably. It was likely that even she knew it. It was equally likely that she was affecting such poor manners with the deliberate purpose of seeing whether he would scold or correct her. She’d frequently done that sort of thing years before, when deciding whether to throw her lot in with him or with Edward. In the end, she’d chosen the man who had jumped to do her bidding.

He would not indulge her bad behavior. She was only trying to encourage a fight so that she could use what she considered her superior wit to put everyone in the places she believed they should have. The only way to dismiss her games was to ignore them.

“Thank you, Mercy,” he nodded to the maid. “We will take our luncheon in the garden today, since the weather is so fine.”

Bernadette went very still and stared at the invitations in front of her. Color had come to her face that was far from the sweet, flirtatious blush she’d worn before.

Along with that, Lady Gladys grinned and tilted her chin up, as if she’d won an important victory.

Alden tried not to sigh openly. Already, he wondered if he’d made the right decision or if he should have gone against his better nature, stood, overthrown the table, and demanded Lady Gladys leave at once, never to darken his doorstep again.

There was nothing for it, now that he’d ordered luncheon, so he did what he could to bring the situation under control.

“Lady Bernadette has made several brilliant decisions regarding the theme of the ball,” he said, smiling at Bernadette and hoping the praise would put a smile on her face once more.

“Theme?” Lady Gladys asked, already looking rebellious. “Is not dancing and conversation theme enough? Balls with athemeare such a Mercian undertaking. You are not one of those horrid Mercian ladies, are you, Lady Bernadette?”

Bernadette raised her eyes slowly to stare steadily at Lady Gladys. “I believe you already know that I am of East Anglia, my lady,” she said. “But I have found in my past endeavors that ball guests quite enjoy variation from the usual banality of Almack’s in private balls and parties. Why, I once organized a ball for the Duchess of Devonshire around the theme of Norse mythology.”

Alden was proud of the way Bernadette attempted to hold her own, but that did not stop Lady Gladys from a withering reply of,“Yes, and I suppose any of the reasonable guests who attended that event prayed to be swept away to Valhalla to spare them the embarrassment of being seen there. Do you not think so, Lord Alden?”

Lady Gladys turned to Alden with a flattering smile.

“I would have enjoyed such a lively entertainment,” Alden said, smiling at Bernadette and hoping he was doing enough to show her he would defend her as stalwartly as any Norse hero defended his lady.

But Lady Gladys merely laughed and touched his wrist again. “Oh, Lord Alden. You are too cruel with your barbs. You’re only disagreeing with me because you know how much I enjoy a challenge.” She played the tips of her fingers along the exposed skin past the rolled cuff of his shirt.

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