LITMIR.BIZ

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disapproval notwithstanding.

      ‘Teasing people,’ Frances said slowly. ‘has been known to rebound on the one doing the teasing.’

      ‘I know, but James asks for it. He is so…so…stiff sometimes.’

      The Duchess laughed. ‘That is the last word I would use to describe him. What is it you do to him to make him behave so out of character?’ The question was a rhetorical one; Lady Loscoe had a very good idea, but it was not for her to point it out. She decided to change the subject. ‘When I left the house this morning, you were intent on doing some painting. How did it go?’

      Lavinia scrambled to her feet, her eyes alight with enthusiasm, James and Lord Wincote both forgotten. ‘Come with me and I will show you.’

      She led the way down to the ground floor ballroom and flung open the door. ‘There! What do you think of it?’

      Frances stood and surveyed the great canvas in surprise for a full minute, then she said, ‘Lavinia, why is it so big?’

      ‘It is a backcloth to a play.’

      ‘Oh. Have you been commissioned to paint it?’ Frances herself took commissions for all sorts of subjects, most of them family portraits, pets, horses and vistas of people’s estates, the proceeds for which she donated to the orphanage fund. Not surprisingly, she had never been asked to make scenery.

      ‘No, I just did it. It is meant for A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’

      ‘Yes, I can see it would do very well for that, but that doesn’t explain why you decided to do it.’

      ‘Mama, you remember the Thespian Players coming to Risley earlier this year?’

      ‘Yes. The Duke allowed them to put a tent up in one of the meadows, I recall.’

      ‘It gave me an idea. I should like to put on a play for our friends and acquaintances and donate the entrance money to the orphanage fund.’

      ‘Oh, I see. It is very commendable, Vinny dear, but have you thought about all the work involved? Where would you find a tent, for a start, and where could you pitch it, considering we are in London, quite apart from providing costumes and seating and finding people to act in it?’

      ‘They are not insurmountable problems. And I did not think we should need a tent, we could use this ballroom…’

      ‘Vinny, I am not at all sure your father would allow that.’

      ‘He would if you asked him. It would only be for one night and we would charge an astronomical amount to come in, so it would be very select. No riff-raff. I have worked it all out, expenditure and income, just as you taught me.’

      Frances smiled. ‘Oh, I have no doubt you have and now you think you can wind me round your thumb and make a conspirator of me.’

      ‘Oh, it will be such fun! Do say you agree.’

      ‘I shall have to think about it. Whom else do you plan to involve?’

      ‘James—’

      ‘James?’ she queried in surprise. ‘Has he agreed?’

      ‘Not exactly, but he will,’ she said confidently. ‘And then there is Duncan and Constance…’ She reeled off a list of her friends, being careful not to mention Lancelot Greatorex. ‘Augusta and her two little ones, who would make beautiful fairies, if they can be schooled in their parts…’ Augusta was James’s sister. She was married to Sir Richard Harnham and had two delightful children, Andrew and Beth.

      ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a difficult play for amateurs, Vinny.’

      ‘Oh, I plan to condense it. If I leave out the play within the play and stick to the love story, I shall not need so many players. I might even try and simplify the language and set it in modern times.’

      ‘Might you, indeed!’ Her stepmother laughed. ‘You are certainly not lacking in pluck if you imagine you can improve on Shakespeare.’

      ‘So you do agree?’

      ‘Vinny, I commend your enthusiasm, I really do, but you know there is so much going on in town this summer, I cannot help but feel you will be playing to an empty room.’

      ‘No, for we shall do it after all the fuss over the coronation is over.’

      ‘But that is not until the first of August—the Season will be over by then and everyone will start going home to the country.’

      ‘If there is a coronation. James is not at all sure there will be but, in any case, no one will leave town until something is resolved. Everyone will still be fired up with nothing to divert them. There will be a kind of vacuum and we shall be there to fill it. Oh, please say yes.’

      ‘I shall have to talk to the Duke.’

      ‘Of course,’ Lavinia said, hoping that her father would be too distracted to pay much attention to what his wife was asking and would give the nod without thinking too deeply about it. And once rehearsals were under way and it became apparent that they needed professional help, she could introduce the idea of asking Mr Greatorex to step in. She decided to let the matter rest for the time being and began talking about Lady Graham’s ball.

      ‘You owe me five guineas,’ Lavinia said as soon as she had climbed into the phaeton beside James the following morning. It was very early indeed and there was little traffic on the road: a couple of milkmaids were driving their cows from Green Park to the houses where the milk would be sold direct from cow to kitchen maid’s jug; a chimney sweep was striding down the street, his poles and brushes over his shoulder, followed by his tiny assistant scampering to keep up with him; a hackney cab carried a late reveller home; a marauding mongrel and a pair of spitting cats were determined on disturbing the peace.

      James took his attention from his driving long enough to turn and look at her. Early as it was, she was looking gloriously vibrant. Her gown was covered by a long cloak whose hood was flung back to reveal her thick chestnut-coloured hair. Not wanting to involve her maid, she had endeavoured to tie it back with a ribbon but several shorter strands had escaped and curled about her ears and neck. Excitement made her green eyes sparkle like emeralds and the early morning air, so much fresher than the heat in the middle of the day, had made her cheeks rosy.

      He was almost breathless with longing, but he managed a cool, ‘By that, am I to assume you turned your papa up sweet and he has agreed to allow you to use the ballroom for your play?’

      ‘Yes, I told you he would, did I not?’

      ‘There must be a proviso or something of the sort.’

      ‘No, not at all,’ she said, smiling broadly, revealing perfect white teeth. ‘I told you he would not stand against Mama, didn’t I? She asked him when he came home last night.’

      ‘Then you did not speak to him yourself. I am not sure that doesn’t invalidate the wager.’

      ‘I did not undertake to ask him myself. I distinctly remember telling you I would get Mama on my side.’

      ‘Then I suppose I had better pay up.’ He sighed and turned into the park gates. There was no one about except a few horsemen, galloping across the grass, and a drunken reveller rolling home on foot, his top hat over one eye and his cravat awry. ‘But I cannot help feeling there is something you have not told me. What about this play actor, Lancelot the Great or whatever he is called? Is he to be made welcome?’

      ‘He will be.’

      He laughed suddenly. ‘You did not even mention him, did you?’

      ‘No, one step at a time. And we didn’t make any stipulations about him in the wager, either.’ She paused. ‘Come on, James, admit you have lost.’

      He pulled the horses to a stop, extracted a purse from his coat pocket and gave her five guineas from it. ‘There, does that satisfy you?’

      She

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