A Short Sharp Shock

Chapter 4

Mama was waiting for me at the ballroom door, her arms folded across her middle. "Where did you go? I hope you managed to stay out of trouble."

"To see the photographic darkroom. I was only gone for five minutes," I protested.

"And yet she did get into trouble," Mr. Gilbert informed Mama. "It's her particular talent."

Near us, a sudden a peal of laughter turned quickly into a cough. Miss Emily Brown, seated in one of the chairs in the center of the room beside the Duke of Sanditon, smiled apologetically at us.

"I beg your pardon," she said carefully. She had a strange accent, but I couldn't place it. "Something...something in my throat."

Miss Brown was not one of our friends from Kensington, as most of the other guests were. Almost as small as I, she was pretty, with brown hair, laughing green eyes, and a deep voice. Hannah Milkington had taken an instant dislike to her, but I rather liked Miss Brown's open, friendly attitude.

"Are you going to choose a fancy-dress outfit?" I asked Miss Brown.

She shook her head. "Not I. Instead, I shall be your admiring audience." There it was again, the occasional odd vowel and the careful, deliberate pronunciation. I would have to talk to her a bit more to place her origins more accurately.

The Duke of Sanditon snorted at that and lifted one white eyebrow at Miss Brown. "What, you're not dressing up? How did you manage to get out of it? I'll be dam-" he cleared his throat. "I don't fancy getting dragged into the nonsense myself."

"But you are much more important than I," Miss Brown told him with a smile. "You would be welcome to join the fun, but they don't want me."

She was right about that. To have the Duke as a guest in one's home was quite an honor. He was an actual Hero of the Nation, having made a name for himself at Waterloo. Of course that was many, many years ago and he was quite elderly now, but he was still vigorous and upright for a man of his age.

"Wish they didn't want me, either." The Duke looked around, then lowered his voice to a disgusted growl. "That blasted Milkington woman asked if I'd play Romeo to her Juliet."

I giggled.

He shook his head at me. "Aye, you laugh, child, but it ain't funny from where I'm sitting."

Miss Brown said, "We shall stay right here and avoid the fancy dress business. Mrs. Milkington won't come within ten feet of me."

"Done!" The old soldier said, and gallantly held out his hand to her. Miss Brown took his hand and gave it a manly shake, as if sealing a deal. He added, "Though damn me if—that is, I can't understand what the old besom has against you. You're a right 'un in my book, young lady."

Miss Brown laughed out loud, mouth wide open and head thrown back. The sheer honesty and openness of it made me smile along with her. "Thank you very much, sir. I mean, Your Grace."

"Sir will do," he said, patting her hand, which he still held in his. The two of them smiled at one another in perfect friendship.

Mama watched this exchange with raised eyebrows. "Well, I never."

"It serves Mrs. Milkington right. Romeo and Juliet? Why, she's fifty if she's a day, and married as well!" I said. "And he's even older."

"Gentlemen age much better than females do," Mama said. "And Sanditon is a widower, which makes him a subject of interest to many ladies, even though he's at least seventy years of age. Now come here. I've found a dress you might like."