Chapter 10

The Courtship Dance

B riana was dead tired. Sprawled on the settee in her drawing room, she lay on her stomach, face practically planted into the soft cushion while drifting in and out of sleep. She was exhausted and drained from the previous night's adventures and needed a quiet moment to rest before the next calamity befell them. Not only had someone followed her the previous night, but the informant who was supposed to meet her at Amen Court had not shown. To top it off, she could not get blasted Victor Cambridge out of her head—or more specifically, Victor Cambridge and Lady Seymour.

She wondered if they had coupled at his home right after the theatre. Though she had only just met the man, she was jealous as hell to think of any other woman touching his beautiful body or brushing their fingers across that skin.

Briana had a rare morning where nothing was on her schedule, and she had decreed the entire household was to rest for the day and do as they please. No one argued or complained about that edict. She was just drifting off to sleep stretched out on the settee, having enjoyed the rare warm sunlight streaming through the window. She wore a rather plain day dress, her legs and bare feet hanging over the arm of the settee.

Her eyes were drooping when Laura burst through the door and said, "'Ere miss, would ye look out the window? Ye need to get ready to entertain callers."

"Pardon?" she drowsily asked, until Laura's panicked voice pierced through her hazy snooze.

"Take a gander outside!"

Briana sat up but her legs got tangled in her dress somehow, and she rolled right off the settee and hit the floor with a thud. She groaned and pushed herself up to her feet and stumbled towards the window, then paled. "Who are all those people?"

She was staring at a street full of curricles and phaetons, young gentlemen alighting from various conveyances and lining up outside her door downstairs.

"Those are yer suitors, come to call on ye. Mr. Mason is 'avin a 'ard time keepin' em in line."

She frowned in confusion. "But how? I've never had gentleman callers before. And why are they so early? Even I know no one makes morning calls until late-afternoon!" she shrieked, beginning to panic.

"Per'aps your dance with that Cambridge fellow is wot's made ye suddenly desirable to the 'ole of London."

"How did you know about that?"

"'Tis the talk of the town, miss. That fella singled ye out for a dance, and then ye was seen talkin' all fancy at the theatre while 'is mistress was givin' ye the evil eye. The gossips 'ave been 'avin a day of it."

"Good grief, really? Do people have nothing better to talk about?" Briana looked back out the window and asked, "Should I send them away?"

"Well, 'tis a bit late now. 'Alf of them are already at the door."

"What does one do with gentleman callers? Surely, I can't see them all at once," she asked Laura. "Aren't they supposed to send a card first?"

"You're askin' the wrong person, miss. If it were up to me, I'd give ‘em a good tuppin' and send them on their way," Laura replied with a shrug.

Briana winced. "Right, well I don't intend to do that. Should I fetch Maude? No, it's too late. Perhaps I should call Caitlin. She would know what to do. Quick, send Renwick to fetch Miss Drummond immediately!" Briana could feel the panic rising within again. She was not prepared to accept callers—not that many, anyway.

Laura said, "Remain calm, miss. No need to be callin' anyone. I can sit with ya and keep an eye on them toffs."

"What do I talk about? What do they even want?" Briana shrieked again.

"Excuse me, miss. Perhaps you need to remain calm. I have some experience with this from my old life when I was in line for a baronetcy," Renwick said. "You serve them tea and cake then talk about the weather. Usually, a real gentleman will not over stay his allotted time."

"Right, yes, of course. That is very good advice, Renwick. Thank you." Briana seemed to calm down a little. Then the thought of the cake brought on panic again. It seemed they all had the exact same thought at the exact same time.

"Good grief, does Serena need to bake a cake?" Briana asked.

Laura made the sign of the cross and replied, "Lord 'ave mercy, miss. Serena's cake will be yer undoin'."

Renwick replied, "Leave it to me. I'll speak to Serena and make sure she serves plain cake and nothing that rots the gut."

"Yes, please. And tell her to refrain from adding gin to everything!"

Renwick left the room while Briana and Laura rushed about making themselves presentable. They also rearranged the furniture so Briana would not be trapped in a corner, as Laura put it.

From the cacophony of noise coming from the hallway, they realized they had run out of time. Briana ordered Laura to remain by the fireplace as a chaperone and threw a pile of sewing at her. Then she hoped and prayed that Mr. Mason would not lose his temper and skewer any lordlings with his cutlass. She did not need to bail him out of prison for murder on top of everything else.

VICTOR WAS SERIOUSLY put out. Not only was the street extremely busy with phaetons and carriages, but it seemed like every man and his dog was standing in line to visit Briana Walsh. He felt a rumbling deep inside his chest at the thought of these young pups sniffing about her.

Victor had no intention of waiting in line. Instead, he jostled and nudged his way to the front, ignoring cries of " How rude! " and " Who do you think you are? " until he reached the head of the queue. There he came face to face with the most menacing butler he had ever seen. The man was at least seven feet tall and clearly did not care one iota that they were titled gentlemen. He bore several scars across his cheek, but the most notable was a deep cut across his neck, as though someone had tried to slice him open. Victor was frowning at the thought when the hulking beast of a man said, "It were a twelve-inch dagger that left this mark."

"Sorry to hear it. Looks rather painful," Victor replied.

"You should see the other fellow's neck. But then you'd have to dig him up from his grave."

"I suppose congratulations are in order on your win, then."

Mr. Mason stared at Victor for a beat with shrewd eyes, then simply grinned. "You here to court the mistress? You don't look like these other fops."

"I most certainly am not here to court anyone. I simply want to ensure Miss Walsh is hale."

"If you're not courting her, then what's it to you if she's well or not?"

"In answer to your very impertinent question, I heard a rumor she may have been visiting undesirable locations in London. I merely wanted to ensure she is not placing herself in harm's way."

"Whatever you heard, 'twas wrong. The mistress would never dare set foot in any such place or consort with dangerous types."

"Yet, she had no problem hiring you."

Mr. Mason's mouth twitched slightly. He snorted and replied, "You best get inside and see for yourself, then. But one wrong move and I'll gut you."

Victor grimaced and replied, "Thank you. I believe you would, and I shall heed the warning."