Chapter 27

C HAPTER 27

There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.

—Jane Austen

Always. Marigold's heart did unruly, very nearly unmannerly gyrations beneath the confines of her corset at his word. But this was Daisy's night, and Marigold needed to concentrate on her cousin and not on Cab Cox.

Yet Cab was persistent in his own way. "I hope you'll save a dance for me, Marigold," he said as he handed her into the hired carriage. "Though I should like to reserve them all, I know it's against the rules."

She touched his arm in gratitude but lowered her voice so they might not be overheard. "I would vouchsafe them all to you, Cab, so long as you remember your promise to dance the first dance with Daisy. You know you're the only one who can see her launched off in style."

"Not the only one—Tad may have plans of his own."

"He may, or he may not. You are the only man I can safely rely upon."

"I gave you my word." He held up his hand in pledge. "Just be careful who you dance with, all right?"

"Oh, you needn't fear, Cab. Seviah will perform the office of the first dance for me." Perform being the operative word—Seviah had an air of the stage about him this evening, as if the suit had invested him with a sort of presence. "And the ladies of the cycling club have furnished me with a list of all the bounders and mashers."

He seemed taken aback by the very idea. "Have they?"

"Of course. We young ladies try to look out for one another, so we know whom to avoid."

He seemed to want to say something serious—that frown had etched itself between his brows—but he said only, "Good to know," and settled himself into the carriage for the ride to the Endicotts' manse.

Rock Ledge was lit up like a wedding cake with gaslights twinkling in the twilight for the festivities. By the time they arrived, close to a hundred other people were already in the receiving line, but Marigold had timed their arrival so that they were perfectly placed just at the end.

"So many people," Daisy whispered. "Everyone looks so fine."

"They do. But after Mrs. Endicott, none look so fine as you." Marigold was glad to note that Isabella had been correct in her guess that Julia Stuyvesant Endicott would be trying to re-create the balls of her New York youth, when the Four Hundred were ruled by Mrs. Astor—a second cousin of Julia Endicott's, naturally.

Their hostess was receiving her guests at the door, just inside the house, a stately figure clad in a cream-colored satin dress fresh from New York with an asymmetrical overskirt of tawny sheer net, decorated in a swagged festoon of silk flowers and bows, all drawn back into a small bustle that was just at the last of its stylishness.

Marigold had never felt more beholden to Isabella's genius for setting, rather than following, the trends of the day. "And you also have the advantage of knowing how to conduct yourself just as we practiced."

"Yes." Daisy squeezed her gloved hand in gratitude, took a deep breath, and let her face relax into her naturally lovely smile. "Oh, there he is!"

And indeed, there was Thaddeus Crowninshield Endicott, standing next to his father, looking every inch the debonair man-about-town his parents clearly wanted him to be—with the exception of a small cowlick that had somehow managed to escape the strict confines of his hair tonic.

"Makes me feel all-overish, but in a good way," Daisy whispered. "I like that his hair is not quite perfect—makes him more real somehow."

"Exactly," Marigold murmured in encouragement.

But no encouragement was needed—Tad's mouth dropped open and his face lit like a beachside bonfire at the site of Daisy.

"Mr. Jonathon Cox and Miss Daisy Hatchet," the ma ? tre d'hotel intoned as Cab and then Isabella handed him her card with their names clearly written out. "Mrs. Charles Dana, Miss Marigold Manners, and Mr. Seviah Hatchet."

Daisy stepped forward as if on the impulse of the moment. "Oh, Mrs. Endicott, thank you so very much for your kind invitation."

"We're so glad you could attend, Miss …?" Julia Endicott's patrician smile was firmly in place as she appeared to hesitate to understand who Daisy was.

But Marigold had prepared Daisy for such silly society games—the girl turned the benefice of her own dazzling smile upon Mrs. Endicott and simply carried on. "May I have the honor of presenting you to our party, ma'am?"

Julia Endicott made an equivocal sound of assent, but Daisy beamed at her as if she had been anointed for the task. "My dear cousin, Miss Marigold Manners of Boston and now of our island, we're happy to say."

"Thank you for your kind invitation, ma'am," was all Marigold allowed herself to echo before turning to Seviah.

"And my brother, Mr. Seviah Hatchet. And Miss Manners's dear friend from Boston, Mr. Jonathan Cabot Cox. Oh, but of course you'll already know dear Cab."

"Yes, yes, we do." Julia Endicott found herself smiling. "Good evening to you all."

"And Mrs. Endicott and I are old acquaintances." Isabella played her part to perfection. "How lovely to see you again, Julia. So kind of you to include me and my prot é g é e, sweet Daisy."

"Yes, of course." Julia Endicott's brows rose in perfect arches of surprise. "A pleasure to have you here, Isabella."

"Thank you, Julia." Isabella was everything complimentary. "I am thoroughly enjoying my first glance at your beautiful Rock Ledge."

"That's swell." Tad beamed from the end of the line, effectively cutting out his father. "Glad to have you all here with us. Good to see you too, Cab. And Sev."

"A pleasure to celebrate with you, Tad." Cab had his own piece of social nicety at the ready.

"Oh, but there's the orchestra." Daisy turned her luminous smile on Tad as the band struck up a tune. "We won't keep you from your guests a moment longer, Mr. Endicott."

"Miss Hatchet," Cab asked, right on cue, "I believe this is my dance?"

"Oh, thank you, yes. You're too kind."

"Say, now." Tad stepped up. "I reckon the fellow whose birthday it is ought to have the honor of leading out the prettiest gal on the whole of the North Shore."

Daisy did the impossible—she looked at him with her heart shining in her eyes and said, "Oh, Mr. Endicott. I'd love to, but I've pledged the first dance to Mr. Cox." She looked mournfully at Cab, who took his second cue like the champion sportsman he was.

"I will cede the honor to my cousin, but only because it is his birthday. And only if you will do me the honor of your second dance, Miss Hatchet."

"You are kindness itself, Mr. Cox." Daisy was all gracious delight. "Of course, I'd be honored."

Marigold found herself drawing in a deep breath of relief as Tad drew Daisy to the place of pride in the center of the dance floor, though all around her the assembly seemed to draw its collective breath.

"Is that the Hatchet girl?" someone behind Marigold murmured.

"Couldn't be. Look at her! She looks divine. That dress!"

Marigold's satisfaction gave her enough ease to enjoy the sight of the two young people, so perfectly suited to each other, as they began a sedate waltz. Daisy moved beautifully and even laughed charmingly when Tad stepped on her foot. But oh, what a sublime couple they were, so clearly attuned to each other.

"Just as you'd plotted, no doubt," Cab said at her ear.

"Cab." She rewarded him for his part of the play with a smile. "That was perfect. Thank you."

"You're welcome. But I'm now free to collect on your promise that the rest of your dances are to be mine."

"You must recall I've pledged my first dance to Seviah, to help ease his way into society. I can't abandon him now."

"No, you dad-blamed cannot," Seviah retorted from her other side.

"And I will not," Marigold assured him. "Cab, the next dance is yours."

"All right, then, I'll sit this one out, secure in the belief that the best is yet to come."

"Oh, I beg you will not sit it out while there are so many young ladies without partners, Cab. Can't I persuade you to ask Miss Morgan—just to your left in a lovely aubergine-colored gown? As a favor to me?"

"Marigold." Cab almost sighed—almost. "Is it not enough that I'm letting you play fast and loose with Daisy and Tad? I won't have you playing fast and loose with me."

"Gracious, Cab. It's a dance, not a marriage proposal. If you mean not to dance with other young ladies, then you'll have to decline the honor of dancing with me."

"You're Machiavellian," he accused. "Though Machiavelli didn't look that good in blue satin." But he was smiling good-naturedly and straightening his cuffs before he went toward Amelia Morgan, so she took no offense.

Marigold let Seviah lead her out, secure in the hope that Cab would launch Amelia Morgan's prospects within society in the same manner she had planned for him to do for Daisy.

With that task accomplished, Marigold could turn her attention back to Daisy and Tad, who appeared to need no help—they were still blissfully twirling away, oblivious to Tad's mother trying to catch his attention to remind him of his duties to other young ladies.

"You're doing me no favors looking like you're bored to bits with me," Seviah complained.

"My apologies." She refocused her attention on her cousin. "You're right. I should be concentrating on whom your next partner should be. There appear to be slightly fewer ladies than gentlemen." She supposed a veritable Who's Who of the North Shore was in attendance, along with a number of townspeople—more than one fellow looked none too comfortable in his suit of evening clothes.

But not Seviah. He looked in his element—chin up, chest out, shoulders back. As if he were trained for the stage and the weight of an audience's gaze. "Do you like the theater, Seviah?"

"I reckon I do. Why do you ask?"

"Do traveling revues make it to the local playhouse?"

He somehow managed that careless Hatchet shrug even as he danced. "I've seen a few shows."

"And what did you like best about them?"

"Oh, the singers, standing up there, all fine. The duets with the fellow and a pretty lady were my favorites."

"Nothing better than a handsome man and a beautiful girl."

"Like us now," he offered with a sly wink.

"No winking. We're making over your reputation tonight too."

"My reputation? As a dangerous lover?"

"Is that really what you fancy yourself as?" she asked with all seriousness.

"Nah," he finally admitted. "That's all for show."

"Good. Because it's not me you want to impress with your gentlemanliness—it's them. Look at them—discreetly!" she hissed into his ear. Her glance took in more than one young lady gazing at Seviah with something more febrile than admiration shining in their eyes. "They're all hoping for a chance to dance with you, so as soon as this dance is done, I'll start introducing you to my friends."

"Imagine you, introducing me around my town."

"Imagine that!" Marigold laughed. Seviah would do just fine until she could figure out how best to help him off Great Misery as she had Daisy.

For now, she would turn her archaeological, puzzle-solving mind to the far more intriguing investigation of her list of Pride's Crossing's potential bounders.

And, very likely, murderers.