“If that doesn’t beat all,” Montford said. “Do you think she dared him?”

  “Do not look now, but it appears she is going up after him.”

  The other sisters must have noticed as well because they scurried en masse towards the tree.

  “That is not going to make it any less conspicuous,” Rotham observed unhelpfully.

  “Shall we go see what possessed Freddy to revert to a twelve-year-old?”

  “I am not certain he ever progressed, actually,” Dominic reflected.

  Nevertheless, they walked as casually as they could over to where the sisters had gathered beneath the tree.

  Joy was stretched out on one limb, and Freddy was on the one just above.

  “Here, kitty, kitty,” Freddy called, trying to coax the little tiger into coming to him.

  “You didn’t,” Dominic scolded.

  “I am quite certain he could not say no to a pair of pretty blue eyes,” Rotham reflected.

  “I think I should have drawn your cork at Jackson’s. I would be happy to oblige when this charming display is over.”

  While they considered ways to coax the miniature tiger down, from walking over to his townhouse to grab a ladder to throwing a sheet over the branch, Miss Whitford had taken some stones and was tossing them around the kitten, causing the branch to shake and the little fellow mewed with displeasure.

  “Will that not make the little monster go higher?” Patience asked.

  It did not. A little ball of fluff jumped—or fell—down into Grace’s waiting arms.

  “That was unexpected,” Montford reflected.

  “Come on down, Joy. I will catch you if needs be.” Dominic held up his arms.

  But Joy needed no such help. Lithe as a cat herself, she climbed down and landed on her feet as though this was a common pastime for her. Very likely it was.

  “Will you catch me if I need it?” Freddy looked down with a huge grin.

  “You may rot in the tree for that caper,” he retorted. “I hope you intend to keep the creature with you, because there is no possibility of my mother allowing it in her house!”

  Freddy swung himself down from the tree without incident

  “You would think a schoolroom miss would bore him,” Rotham remarked.

  “On the contrary. A schoolroom miss suits him perfectly!”

  “I shall name him Freddy Tiger after you,” Joy announced with a beaming smile at Freddy, which caused his friends to go into peals of laughter.

  CHAPTER 7

  Surprisingly, Lady Westwood had not minded Joy having a kitten, after all, when they presented the young feline to her upon their return. Faith was mortified at the imposition, but her ladyship had thought it would be just the thing to keep Joy occupied while her elder sisters were out and about.

  “The two of them will get into mischief together, I have no doubt,” Lady Westwood said with a twinkle in her eyes that greatly resembled the one her son often had.

  Even Mr. Cunningham had been to visit his namesake twice, though Faith did wonder if it was merely an excuse to visit her sisters. There was no denying that he had taken to little Joy like an older brother would.

  The day after the escapade with the kitten in Berkeley Square, the sisters were sitting in the drawing room with Lady Westwood before they went out for the day. Hope was reading the gossip columns and gasped with excitement. “Listen to this!”

  Does anyone else see the delicious irony in Lord W—having five beautiful wards? Alas, will he himself—London’s most determined bachelor—be able to withstand the unearthly beauty that has been placed before him like the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden?

  Instead of remarking on the hoydenish behaviour that had prompted Joy to climb the tree in front of half the ton taking ices at Gunter’s, they remarked upon Mr. Cunningham’s heroism at rescuing her kitten.

  “I tossed the rock which caused him to jump down,” Faith muttered peevishly.

  Joy was delighted to be famous.

  Had it only been two weeks since their lives had been turned upside down?

  “Girls, I have been debating how best to present you to the ton. Since matters have progressed rather more rapidly than I anticipated…” She slid a glance to the newspaper, which they had just been reading aloud. “What do you think about holding a ball here?”

  “A real ball?” Joy asked with delight.

  “We must do something to present you. The Queen is not well, and is not expected to hold her débutantes’ ball or any drawing rooms for the foreseeable future, so we will make do.”

  Faith was very relieved to hear it, though she did not wish the Queen unwell. After the awful tragedy of losing the princess only a year ago, it would have been more odd if the Queen did hold any parties.

  She had also heard of the gowns required for court presentations, and was very relieved not to bear the expense of something so ostentatious that would never be worn again.

  But a ball in their honour? It also sounded very extravagant. She could not fathom why Lord Westwood would choose or wish to bear the expense and still meant to repay him what she could when she received her portion. It was vexatious not to understand. Was it out of the goodness of his heart or was there another unknown motive? It was irksome not to know why he was doing this…especially for girls that were supposed to be his father’s wards.

  “You must not think a ball necessary, my lady. We are happy enough to attend some small entertainments.”

  “Nonsense!” she protested. “I host a ball every Season, only we must hold it quite soon. I suspect with the three eldest of you here, it will be a sad crush!”

  “Perhaps you should have a Season now, Grace,” Joy said thoughtfully. “It does not seem fair for you to have to wait two more years for me! The Town already knows about you, anyway.”

  Faith looked at Grace. “Joy is probably right. What do you think, Lady Westwood?”

  “Indeed, I had thought there must be some good reason, but if not, then most certainly she should make her come-out with the rest of you! We will engage a governess-companion for Joy so she will not be neglected.”

  “But I have Freddy Tiger for that!”

  “But little Freddy cannot take you to visit museums and parks and other adventures that are to be had while in Town,” her ladyship coaxed with great cunning.

  “But Mr. Cunningham and Lord Westwood will take me.”

  “Of course they will when they can, but they will be attending many of the same entertainments your sisters will be at.”

  “Oh.” A frown formed on her face. “I had not considered that.”

  “But do not fret. We will make certain we find you someone you can like. No stuffy old matron for you!”

  Faith was relieved. It had been her main concern about having Grace presented with the rest of them, but Joy would wilt under a strict duenna.

  “Would you like to help us plan the ball as well, Joy?”

  “Me?” No one had ever asked her such a thing.

  “Oh, yes. Balls in London are spectacles,” she said, as if confiding a great secret. “Some, of course, are mundane, but a superior hostess does something special that leaves her guests treasuring the memories for Seasons to come. Lady Ashbury, who is a great friend of mine, does something original every year. She has three identical triplet daughters, who I dare say may be the only group of sisters to ever have rivalled you. When she presented them at a ball, her theme was a night with Beethoven, and her ballroom had been transformed into a replica of Vienna! There was a miniature Hofburg Palace, the Rathaus, St. Stephen’s Cathedral, and an actual water feature of the Donau River running through the ‘city’!

  The girls gasped trying to imagine such a thing.

  “Then, to present the girls, the building, shaped like the Viennese Opera House, began to rotate. On the other side of the building were the triplets, one behind a pianoforte, another sitting behind a cello, and the third held a violin! There was even an enormous cake shaped like a pianoforte.”

  Her sisters gasped in astonishment.

  “Needless to say, I welcome your fresh ideas. I will have my secretary review the social calendars and decide upon a date as soon as possible because we must not wait. Therefore, I need all of you to help with this. Consider the matter, if you will, while I speak with Jones.” Lady Westwood left the room.

  “How exciting!” Hope exclaimed. “What could we do to rival the Ashbury ball?”

  “Make it into a garden?”

  “Make it into a starry night?”

  “An enchanted forest?”

  “A masquerade?”

  “I have a feeling all of those will have been done before,” Faith remarked, “but I have no better ideas myself.”

  “How about the Exeter Exchange and everyone can dress as their favourite animal?” Joy said, brimming with excitement. “Or the Tower of London, and the gentlemen can dress as Henry the Eighth and we can dress as one of his wives.”

  “Before or after he had them beheaded?” Patience asked dryly.

  “Either, of course,” Joy replied.

  “What a bloodthirsty wench you are, imp,” Lord Westwood said, strolling into the room in moulded buff pantaloons, a well-fitted blue jacket, and riding boots, looking very modish. “Why are we discussing our unfortunate monarch who had a predilection for beheading?”

  “We are trying to think of a theme for our ball!”

  “Of course, a ball,” he said with aplomb. “My mother has left you to think of a thing to rival Lady Ashbury, I gather?” he asked rhetorically, as he took a seat in a chair next to Faith and crossed his legs.

  They told him their other ideas, and he assured them they had all been done—except for Henry the Eighth’s wives.

  “There must be something besides the Tower of London, though it would be original, and require every carpenter in London to pull it off,” Westwood pointed out.

  “Is there any story that has five females?” Hope asked.

  They all wrinkled their brows in thought.

  “Henry the Eighth did have six wives,” Joy said, clinging to the idea. “Lady Westwood could be Catherine of Aragon.”

  “That is not how I want my sisters to be remembered for years to come, thank you! I cannot believe we are discussing it as a serious option,” Faith said in exasperation.

  “I apologize, Faith,” Joy sounded disappointed.

  “No, no. I beg your pardon. I did not mean to snap at you.”

  “Here is an idea. You could all be different goddesses and make the ballroom up to be the heavens with clouds and harps and such—what do you say? I cannot think that has been done in my recent memory, anyway.”

  “Would you be Cupid, shooting arrows at us?” Grace asked with a devilish smile.

  “No, I will not prance about in my unmentionables with wings strapped to my back. We could be fallen angels, me and my friends, though.”

  “Not so far from the truth,” Faith muttered to herself, but Lord Westwood must have heard.

  “Baggage,” he leaned over and said appreciatively.

  “There is always Shakespeare. We could transform the ballroom into the woods and grotto from A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Patience suggested.

  “It has been done, I am afraid.”

  “Certainly not Julius Caesar or Romeo and Juliet,” Grace shuddered. “No tragedies.”

  “What about a jungle?” Joy asked as she stroked Freddy Tiger’s head. “Or something exotic like China? They have the most exquisite dolls we could dress as!”

  “You would have to paint your faces white and I would not think anything to hide your natural beauty would be the thing to introduce you to the ton. They will have heard about you by now and will be wanting a glimpse,” Lord Westwood reasoned.

  “Then we might as well do the Exeter Exchange and put us in display cages!” Patience moaned.

  “That’s the ticket!” Westwood said ironically.

  “Let us see what Lady Westwood thinks,” Faith put in hurriedly before the discussion dived any deeper into the ridiculous.

  Dominic glanced up as his mother glided back in the room, looking more excited than he had seen her in years.

  “Two weeks!” she announced. “Oh, there you are, Dominic. Have you helped the girls decide what our theme will be?”

  He rose and placed a kiss on his mother’s proffered cheek. “Certainly. They would like to be animals in cages on display like at the ’Change.”

  She gasped as he knew she would.

  “Besides the options of Henry the Eighth’s wives or goddesses in the heavens, we are at a loss,” Miss Whitford said sheepishly.

  Dominic wished he had a portrait of his mother’s face in that moment.

  “What about a carnival or Astley’s Amphitheatre?” Joy persisted. “We are all very good horsewomen,” she said with modest innocence.

  “Joy, you do not say such things about yourself,” Faith quietly scolded.

  “But it is true. I miss Nightingale.”

  “Was Nightingale your mare?” Dominic asked.

  “Yes, but we had to leave all our horses behind. Faith did not think they were truly ours to take, but I’ve had her since she was a foal!”

  Dominic could see he would either need to speak with Sir Reginald or visit Tattersalls very soon. Unless Sir Reginald was intending on keeping the girls’ horses for his own offspring, he might appreciate them being taken off his hands instead of eating their heads off in the stables.

  Meanwhile, his mother was still fretting about the theme, and was growing more horrified with each suggestion made to her.

  “Shall I send Satterlee to you, Mother, and take these ladies for an airing in the park?” Surely offering his best of secretaries would appease her.

  “May we please go to Astley’s?” Joy asked without hesitation.

  “Joy, we have discussed the impropriety of imposing on Lord Westwood,” Faith reminded the youngest, who they were going to be hard-pressed to keep in the school room.

  “There is no showing today, imp, but I will take you soon.” Whatever was happening to him? He’d been brought to heel by a fifteen-year-old slip of a girl.

  “A walk in the park would be just the thing, my lord,” Faith said.

  Fortunately, the country girls did not take long to ready themselves, and soon they were gathered with their bonnets and cloaks about to set out when there was a knock upon the door.

  “Freddy. We were just about to walk in the park. Would you care to join us?”

  “Certainly! It will be just the thing! I have brought a lead for my namesake.”

  Joy squealed with delight as Dominic looked on with horror.

  Freddy pulled out a little bejewelled black collar and a matching lead.

  Joy held up Freddy Tiger and Freddy clasped the collar round his little neck.

  He then proceeded to stroke the kitten behind the ears. “This way he will not escape up into a tree again. Will you?” he said in that annoying little voice that people talked to babies with.

  “You unman me, Freddy!” Dominic said acidly.

  Freddy, who was by now allowing the kitten to rub its chin all over his, merely grinned at Dominic.

  “Not so amused now?” Miss Whitford asked knowingly.

  “Certainly not bored!” he retorted and held out his arm to her.

  She laughed for the first time he could remember. The low, musical lilt affected him in ways even her beauty had not. She needed to laugh more, he decided.

  They began their procession two by two with Freddy and Joy leading the way trying to convince little Freddy Tiger to walk on the lead. Thus far it had only managed to become tangled in Joy’s skirts.

  “I believe Freddy is in danger of becoming another Poodle Byng.”

  “Oh, but a kitten is much more dashing! Perhaps we should return to the Strand and select one for you as well,” Miss Whitford said with a smile that quite transformed her face.

  Dominic pretended to shudder which made her laugh again.

  “Come now, I have heard anything Lord Westwood does is certain to take.”

  “Who is filling your ears with such nonsense?” he protested.

  “Your servants think very highly of you, and we read the Society pages.”

  “Unfortunately, when retainers have known you since birth, there is little threat you can make to them,” he replied ruefully.

  Thankfully, Green Park was neither as crowded nor as occupied with members of the ton intent on socializing as Hyde Park. The park was instead full of playing children and merchants going about their business.

  They entered through the gate near Bath House and walked along the row of stately homes in the Palladian fashion similar to Westwood House.

  “Are those cows?” Miss Whitford asked, squinting towards the far corner of the park.

  “Yes, indeed. I had forgotten about them. Would any of you care for some fresh milk?”

  “They have milch cows in the middle of the park in London? How curious!”

  “No one can ever say you were deprived in London. Not only do we have milk, but fresh and warm, straight from the cow!”

  The others had by this time noticed the herd and were wandering closer with curiosity, while Joy and Freddy still struggled to teach little Freddy Tiger to use his lead. Currently, he was climbing Freddy’s glossy Hessians much to his dismay, resulting in a blistering scold to his junior. Once he had divested Hoby’s masterpiece of the feline, Freddy Tiger then began attacking his lead.

  Dominic could only shake his head. He paid the attendant for five warm glasses of milk, thinking himself rather magnanimous for considering Freddy Tiger.

  He placed the cup down on the ground, and the cat eagerly helped himself.

  “Do you wish for some, Freddy…the great? Senior? It is a bit confusing to know what to call each of you when you’re together.”

  “I don’t care for milk myself, reminds me of my old nurse. Look at him go!” he said as if he were responsible for providing the creature with milk and his ability to drink it.

  Several of the sisters were watching adoringly.

  Dominic turned away from the spectacle his friend was making of himself, only to see that Joy was watching the maids milk the cows with fascination.

 

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