“Do I know the story?” Lord Penderton said in an incredulous tone. “How could Inotknow the story? It was my own father and Martin Folkes who opposed the induction of John Hill.”
Lord Penderton paused, then said in a quieter voice, “Though in the end, I think they regretted it. More trouble than it was worth, as it turned out.”
“On account ofLucina sine concubitu,” Kitty said.
“On account of what?” Frederick said, completely lost.
“Just so,” Lord Penderton said.
“But what is Lucina-whatever-you-said?” Frederick asked.
“A ridiculous paper proposing a woman can get with child from the air,” Lady Penderton said.
“That is outrageous!” Frederick said.
“So it was,” Lord Penderton said, “though some fellows thought to make themselves look intelligent in debating it. Trouncing the idea is what I think they meant to do. Only they made themselves look foolish.”
“What I mean, sir,” Frederick said, “is it is outrageous that anyone should mention such an idea to Kitty! You know, having to do with…”
“My dear Frederick,” Lady Penderton said, “I do not see how Kitty would have understood the story if that part had been left out.”
“And now you say, my dear,” Lord Penderton said, ignoring his son’s indignation, “that there is a new John Hill in the mix? Very amusing, you must keep me informed.”
“It is not very seemly…” Frederick said, trailing off.
Kitty felt some amount of pity for her brother. He was a stickler for propriety, and she knew he was genuine in his opinion that a lady should not hear of such things. Ladies were to remain ignorant of how the species, or any species, kept producing more of the species. Where he’d got such notions, nobody knew. Miss Crimpleton lived on a working farm just as they did and must have seen all sorts of breeding, though Frederick would combust into flames to think of it.
Lord Penderton seemed to recall something and motioned the footman for more wine. “That reminds me, my dear, Kitty and I have an amusing tale foryou.Eh, Kitty?”
Kitty looked down at her plate. She wished her father had not thought to divulge the arrival of the book from Lord Grayson.
“Our Kitty has an admirer, a peculiarly dull-witted admirer,” Lord Penderton said. “He sent her a book that proposed to defend one of Aristotle’s old theories, geocentric cosmology of all things. The book was a jest, you see. However…no, I will not ruin it, you tell it Kitty,” her father said in high good humor.
Kitty sighed. “It was a book from Lord Grayson and he did not realize it was written in jest.”
“You see, my dear?” Lord Penderton said, laughing.
“Poor Lord Grayson,” Lady Penderton said.
“Now you cannot mean it,” Lord Penderton said. “A blockhead is no match for Kitty, even though he be a duke someday.”
“That is right, mama,” Frederick said, seeming to feel they had finally landed on a subject he knew something about. “Kitty is too clever for a dolt. I, myself, would not prefer a lady who was too dissimilar to my own temperament. A mismatch such as that has no hope of success.”
“Nonsense, darling,” Lady Penderton said. “While you have the soul of a poet, Miss Crimpleton might be depended upon to manage the accounts better than Shylock. I have seen her negotiating for a ribbon as if a life were at stake. Not a farthing will escape her notice—she will do very well for you.”
“Shylock? Miss Crimpleton?” Frederick said, his tone all outrage. “I say, mother, I must object…”
“Never mind it,” Lady Penderton said kindly. “She is a lovely girl.”
Frederick, appearing mollified, said, “That, of course, I can agree to.”
And so the Dell family dinner went on, Lady Penderton working to keep her lord amused and Frederick protesting when he felt things drifted beyond the mark. Kitty enjoyed herself well enough, but for the niggling discomfort over the discussion of Lord Grayson’s idiocy.
It was true, he had been foolish. She did not think he’d taken even a moment to really consider his gift. He had gone into Lackington and Allen and, like a magpie, settled upon the shiniest object.
For all that, though, it had been kindly meant.
*
