Page 2 of A Dash of Disguise

Roddy was a good sort and would never allow her to suffer as their mother did under her husband’s rule. Her mother had been desperate for attention and had sought comfort in her changing consorts. Roddy was nothing like their father but, like all men of his station, believed that a woman’s only meaningful role in society was to be wife and mother. He would never condone her involvement in the war effort. He expected her to marry this Season.

“I wish I could share the truth with Lady Beaumont, who has generously volunteered to sponsor me. She only agreed to the role since she was a close friend of my grandmere. I was instructed by my grandmere that if I were ever in need I was to go to Lady Beaumont. I feel like I’m betraying them both by not confiding my real reason for participating in the Season. The poor woman believes I want to marry.”

There had a been a time when Perdita planned to marry and raise dark-haired boys and girls in the likeness of a man who now resided in the deepest recesses of her heart, never to be conjured up. She hadn’t seen him since the fateful day in the garden when he devastated her heart and trust. She had learned the lesson well never to trust your heart to anyone.

She doubted she’d be subjected to his presence during the Season. He’d cut all ties with his past life and withdrew from polite society once he’d obtained his title. There was a very rare chance of encountering him since he spent his time gambling and in brothels if rumors were to be believed. She refused to wonder on how many more women he had made promises to in the heat of passion.

“From the stories about your grandmother, she would want you to be involved with what matters.” Emmy’s green eyes flashed with resolve. “After all this planning, this is not the time for doubt.”

“If our plan works, we’ll owe the lady a great debt.” Dita stiffened her spine and climbed the stairs to the drawing room as her friend removed herself to her sanctuary—the library.

Quickly moving, Dita surprised Billy, the footman, by opening the door to the drawing room. A stout white-haired woman, dressed in a fuchsia pelisse and matching turban with what looked like a bird’s nest on the top, stood in the middle of the room. Her bright eyes were lit with warmth and intelligence. A silent sigh of relief went through Dita at Lady Beaumont’s lively presence.

“Perdita, my darling girl.” Lady Beaumont walked with her arms open across the large drawing room. She favored her right side slightly. But there were no other indications that the elderly woman was unwell.

The sturdy woman’s arms and the scent of rosewater enveloped Dita, offering her comfort and safety as her grandmere had done. Dita bit down on her lip, fighting the tears burning behind her eyes.

“I still remember how delighted your grandmother was at your birth.”

Dita clung to the comforting words. Her grandmere had loved her grandchildren. Her warmth and acceptance lessened the pain for both Perdita and Roddy from the lack of their parental attention, but she had died when they were young, leaving a gaping hole.

Lady Beaumont stepped back to look at her. “You are as lovely as your mother but with the mischievous glint of your grandmother. What fun I’ll have this Season, watching you bring all the gentlemen to their knees.”

Dita’s throat tightened in bittersweet sadness to speak about her grandmere. “Thank you, Lady Beaumont. I have been told that I favor her in disposition.” When her mother was extremely upset with her—which had been often—she would accuse her of behaving as wildly as her spirited grandmere.

“You must call me Aunt Euphemia.” Lady Beaumont squeezed Dita’s arm.

“It would mean a great deal to me.” Dita’s voice cracked with emotion.

Aunt Euphemia’s eyes softened for a brief moment, and then seeming to know that Dita might embarrass herself by crying, she plopped down on the nearby settee. “I hope your housekeeper will soon bring a tea tray. I’m feeling a bit peckish. Someone from my family is going to appear before I can finish my tea.”

As if on cue, Billy opened the door, allowing Mrs. Tottle to enter. Another footman carried the tray. Mrs. Tottle’s gray brow was furrowed in deep worry as she supervised the footman. Lady Beaumont’s unexpected appearance discombobulated the unflappable woman.

Dita poured the tea as Aunt Euphemia piled her plate high with a biscuit, slivers of ham, cheese, and small sugar cookies.

Dita was relieved that Aunt Euphemia didn’t follow the rules for a lady of breeding who must choose only a small portion and take tiny bites. Dita stacked her plate high with meats and cheese. She had worked up an appetite after her bout with Alfie.

Neither spoke but enjoyed their respite. Dita was filled with a peaceful contentment in the woman’s presence. There was no artifice about Lady Beaumont, and she didn’t force empty chitchat.

“It is quite wonderful to be away from Rathbourne House.” Aunt Euphemia patted her lips with the white linen napkin after devouring three of the cookies. “I took a spill and had to remain off my feet for over a month with my nephew and niece hovering over me.”

“I received your note, and I’m glad to see you are well. If you feel taking the Season will be a strain, I will understand. I have a distant cousin who could accompany me.” Dita prayed to all the saints in heaven that she wouldn’t be subjected to her odious cousin.

“I’m fit as a fiddle and looking forward to mixing in society again. The last month has been dull and boring. And I would never let my dearest friend down. We must find you an agreeable gentleman. Is there someone who has caught your fancy?”

Dita couldn’t lie to this woman with honest, open eyes who also was her dear grandmere’s friend. She just couldn’t betray either woman. “I’m not sure I’m the marrying type of woman.”

Aunt Euphemia slapped her knee and chortled loudly. “Many a woman would agree with the sentiment. I included. Is there a reason you believe such a thing? I know Annette always regretted allowing the match between her daughter and your father. The earl could be a charming man when he wanted to be. But you must not allow their unhappiness to influence your decision. There are many happy marriages based on respect and companionship.”

Dita was stunned by Aunt Euphemia’s frank discussion of the private lives of her parents. This wasn’t the type of polite conversation made over tea. She had never told anyone outside of her school friends about the screaming fights, the accusations of infidelity between her parents. She had assumed that all couples behaved the way her parents did until she witnessed Emmy’s parents’ loving relationship.

And she would suffer torture before admitting to weaving dreams around a future with Dash. A future where he laughed at her jokes, challenged her to races with admiration shining in his eyes, teased her relentlessly about her lack of feminine arts. The promise of a life with someone who understood her and encouraged her. Her youthful daydreams had been packed away like her dolls and toys and sent to the attic when she outgrew them.

“Oh, I can see there is someone.” Aunt Euphemia’s hooded eyes were focused on Dita.

How could Perdita have considered this woman in decline? For a woman of her age, she was remarkably sharp.

“You’re mistaken. I’ve formed no attachment to any gentleman. And I don’t plan to this Season.”

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