The sound of carriage wheels stopping from out of doors caused Lady Mendleton to drop her fan and fly to the window. “Oh God,” she whispered, “it’s Penelope! What willshesay?”
The duchess drew herself up and said, “Lady Heathway will say nothing at all. This unfortunate circumstance is to be kept strictly under wraps!Isaid we would not have a disaster on our hands, and I will not give Penelope a reason to crow over me—my rank as a duchess and my noble feelings recoil from the very idea.”
The duchess turned and faced Georgiana. “If she or anybody else asks you to play, Miss Wilcox, you are to claim a sore finger. Sprained, badly. Now, as to my musical evening, thank heavens I’ve not sent the invitations out, as that is most definitelyoff. Nothing remotely musical has been heard in this room.”
Georgiana should have been abashed at finding herself the cause of the duchess calling off her musical evening, but she was far more relieved than anything else. It was well that her abominable playing had been caught out now, rather than in the duchess’ drawing room in front of dozens of people. As it was, it seemed it would remain a closely guarded secret between the three of them.
Lady Heathway was,as Lady Mendleton had explained, rather like a general. She’d attempted to grill Georgiana on her accomplishments as if she were a soldier in the ranks, though thanks to the duchess she did not get very far. Lady Heathway was even more determined to inquire into Georgiana’s mother and father and Manley Hall in general. Georgiana was suitably vague, as she did not think Lady Heathway would spend more than two minutes in conference with Lady Manley, nor would she likely see the charms of Manley Hall, crumbling as it was.
Lady Easton’s interests seemed to lay more in the direction of Lord Langley being in residence and wondering if that was quite the thing. Though none of the ladies said so, it was clear enough that great things were expected from Lord Langley and that Georgiana was not one of the great things. Whowasone of the great things, apparently, was Lady Annabelle Rumsford, daughter of a marquess.
It seemed Lady Mendleton was quite settled on the lady as the perfect choice for her son, if only he would get on with it. All the ladies approved of Lady Annabelle and there was much talk about her lovely flaxen hair and her pretty manner. Lady Annabelle, if these women could be relied upon, was perfect in every way—she played beautifully, she was said to have a particularly fine hand at landscape drawing, and she had that certain way about her that spoke of fine breeding.
While the ladies waxed on about Lady Annabelle, Georgiana could not help but be both grateful to get a reprieve from being the focus of their attentions, and a little irritated by this paragon.
Lady Annabelle, indeed.
What was so wonderful about flaxen hair? Was flaxen even a color, or just a farmer’s crop? Did not Georgiana herself have a pretty manner? At least, when she was not being overly direct she must have. And why should anybody draw landscapes when one could drive out to the countryside and simply gaze at them with their own eyes? As for fine breeding, that was all well and good for a horse…
She paused her silent attack on Lady Annabelle. She had never even met the woman and should not have the slightest enmity toward her.
Still, the lady sounded a weak cup of tea for Jasper Stapleton. He was, well, he was very interesting! She had thought quite a lot about the dinner the evening before. There had been times when he’d looked at her across the table as if there was nobody else in the room. It had sent a flutter in her stomach that she very much enjoyed.
Georgiana quietly sighed. She supposed Lord Langley sent flutters through quite a few ladies. She supposed Lady Annabelle fluttered. Or perhaps not, as Lady Annabelle sounded insufferable, and it would be just like her not to flutter.
“Well,” Lady Heathway said, rising, “we will see how we get on tomorrow evening. Lord Ryland’s ball will tell the tale of this venture.”
“I am certain Georgiana’s card will be filled instantly,” Lady Mendleton said.
“That would be a happy circumstance, would it not?” Lady Redfield said.
Georgiana sat calmly with a pleasant expression. In truth, she was not at all calm. Of course, she had known she would be taken to balls. Thanks to Lady Mendleton, she had a wardrobe full of gowns suitable for a ballroom. She had just not known it would be so soon. Tomorrow evening!
She wondered if Lord Langley would attend. And if he did, would he put his name down on her card? Perhaps the astonishing Lady Annabelle would be too taken up with playing the pianoforte beautifully and drawing landscapes to have it on her own calendar.
“Will he have one of those funny dinners, though?” Lady Redfield said, a note of concern creeping into her voice. “I never do feel clever enough for it.”
“I am certain he will,” the duchess said. “Why do I think so? Because he always does.”
Georgiana did not know what was meant by afunny dinner,but she supposed she was to be served some sort of exotic fare. She was not at all sure she would like it, though shewassure she would pretend to. She also thought poor Lady Redfield need not fear being clever enough for it—when one was served something ghastly, which was not unknown at Manley Hall, one simply moved it around in circles and cut it into ever smaller pieces and then ate biscuits in one’s room later.
*
Jasper stood inthe hall waiting for the others to come down so they might set off for Lord Ryland’s annual ball.
He had been to see the queen and relayed the unwelcome news that the most current report of the king’s madness had possibly emanated from his own household. He had, of course, mentioned that it was also possible that it had not. While it was true that his own carriage had encountered the king during his unfortunate ramblings, there might have been somebody else about who he’d encountered beforehand. The king had been missing for three quarters of an hour, giving ample time for that to occur. Then, there was the further speculation that people working for the newspapers haunted the environs of Kew in hopes of gaining a glimpse of the king. It was not out of the realm of possibility that one of these fellows had been lurking at the right place and time. And of course, the king might have told the same story about burying a carriage to anyone he encountered. These days, when he got an idea into his head it tended to stay there until another idea arrived to push it out.
Queen Charlotte had been gracious in considering that his household ought not to be condemned on such thin evidence. She had been adamant on one point, though. The newspaper’s report reeked of a woman’s eye. There had been too much detail paid to the king’s personal appearance, his mussed hair and his unbuckled waistcoat, for it to have been a man. Even the color of his hair had been noted.
Jasper did not know if the queen was right in her assessment or not. After all,hewas a man and took a deal of care with his own appearance and noticed when others did not. Or even if they achieved something superior to his own dress. Had he not eyed Wainright’s neckcloth quite closely just the other day at Brooks’s, and wondered how he might force that gentleman’s valet to educate his own?
Still, the queen’s insistence that there was a woman’s hand in it had chilled him. He at once thought it was impossible that a charming lady like Miss Wilcox could be the culprit, and that all signs pointed toward her.
Ryland’s ball was this evening and his mother had pressed him to come and help squire Miss Wilcox. He had not really needed to be pressed, though his feelings on the matter were grossly conflicted. On the one hand, it would be very pleasant to squire Miss Wilcox. On the other hand, was he squiring some sort of spy or informer?
As it was Ryland’s ball, there was sure to be some kind of murder mystery to solve over dinner. Lord Ryland was a rather renowned criminologist who enjoyed studying grisly murders, audacious robberies, and highly skilled forgery schemes. He’d even put together a club of sorts,The Society for Advancing Criminal Knowledge, that met weekly during the season. It was attended by both keen criminologists like Ryland himself and those who merely enjoyed the titillation of horror-filled reports. Lady Featherstone was of the second type and was forever regaling his mother with some blood-soaked story that gave the lady nightmares.
Jasper had sometimes wondered if he ought to bring Ryland into the investigation of who was giving information to the newspapers, but the queen had insisted that nobody else be made aware that they were looking into the matter. Queen Charlotte was a wise woman who often said something that struck him as a truth all could see once it was pointed out. At that particular suggestion, she’d said, “A secret known by two is a quiet sparrow on a leafed branch, a secret known by more is a parrot screeching to get out of its cage.”
