His horse sidestepped and danced in surprise, not at all used to his master having such an outburst.
Jasper laughed and turned him round. It was time to go home.
Chapter Twelve
Though Georgiana hadtold Jenny she had no need of her coming to her after the ball—the dress she wore was easy enough to get out of—the maid had bustled into her bedchamber nonetheless.
As she helped Georgiana out of her clothes, she said, “As it was Lady Featherstone’s ball, I suppose it was fancy as anything? How did you get on?”
“Everything was lovely,” Georgiana said.
“Aye, it would be,” Jenny said wistfully. “My own evening should’a been lovely too, what with them all out of the house.”
“Was it not, then?” Georgiana asked, by now having come to know Jenny well enough to know there was a story she was itching to tell.
“Well, you see,” Jenny said confidentially, “when they all go out and it’s just us servants in the house, we’re used to having a merry time of it round the dining table in the servants’ quarters. We play cards and such and Mr. Perry allows us an extra glass of ale or wine, assuming we done our work. We might laugh as loud as we like, as there ain’t nobody to disturb.”
This all sounded quite reasonable to Georgiana, though she was certain she was meant to understand that this particular evening had not gone as planned. She did not know if the extra glass of spirits had not been forthcoming or the laughter not quite as liberal it could have been, but something had been amiss.
“It would’a come off just like that, if Marcus had only kept his lips from flapping.”
Georgiana could not fathom what on earth the valet had said via flapping lips to upset what seemed to be a regular and pleasant routine.
“Mr. Perry done told him a dozen times,” Jenny said, “that he’s a valet and his business is Lord Langley’s person, not Lord Langley’s affairs. But Marcus would go on and on about the king and how poorly it seemed he was getting on and how none of us knew what we were to hear next and did anybody overhear Lord Langley talkin’ about what we could expect comin’ down the road at us.”
Georgiana did not think Jenny would have helped this problem very much by telling them all about her encounter with the king, which she was fairly sure the girl had done. How else would it end up in the newspapers? Marcus had likely told everybody he encountered of the tale, since it was of such interest to him.
“Well,” Jenny said, “Mr. Perry did finally run through all his patience and said:If I hear mention of the king at this table one more time, steps will be taken!”
“What sort of steps?” Georgiana asked, thinking it would not be so easy for a butler to get a valet dismissed ifthatwere the step threatened.
“That’s the question,” Jenny said. “Whenever Mr. Perry gets in a lather over something, he says he’ll take steps. Nobody has ever gone on to cross him further so none of us know what the steps are. We reckon they’re terrifying though.”
“Jenny,” Georgiana said, “I believeyoualso mentioned the king at the servants’ table on some earlier day? Did you know that what we observed on our journey somehow made it into the newspapers?”
Georgiana peeked at the maid to see how she would take this particular line of questioning. The girl had the good grace to blush furiously.
“Now, I admit that I did tell of it,” Jenny said. “I know I said I wouldn’t, but then it just came out of me like a faucet! Things do sometimes. And Marcus is so encouraging too—he always asks if I remember anything else. Well, I reckon one person tells another and they tell another and I shouldn’t be surprised if it were a butcher or baker clear across Town what heard it and put it in the papers. Peoplewillgossip, you know.”
“Yes, I do know,” Georgiana said, pressing her lips together so she would not laugh over Jenny’s complete lack of guile and nonexistent awareness of her own habit.
“I’m truly sorry for it and I vowed to myself that if I ever see the king again, I won’t say a word about it. I’ll take it to my grave and not even tell the vicar of it as I lay on my deathbed.” Jenny paused, the comb in her hand in mid-air. “Only God will know of it and who would he tell?”
“That’s all suitably dramatic, Jenny,” Georgiana said, biting her lip, “but as it is unlikely you will encounter the king again, perhaps vow not to spread any other tale of something you might witness.”
Jenny considered this. “I can try, miss. Though interesting things do come out of me like a faucet!”
As Georgiana had no advice on how Jenny might shut off her faucet, Jenny finished combing and braiding her hair and bid her goodnight.
Left alone, Georgiana was satisfied that Jenny had been correct in her theory. She’d told the servants in the house about their encounter with the king, and then they’d proceeded to tell all and sundry. One of those people had seen an opportunity and gone to the newspapers with the story, and they were most likely well-paid for their trouble. Surely, Lord Langley had figured that out? Why should he have questionedher?
But then, he did work for the queen and Georgiana had been asked about her journey and she had said nothing of it. Perhaps he only wondered about it.
What was he going to say to her, though? Before he asked about that? It seemed as if he needed to assure himself on that point so he might move on to something more important.
Georgiana sighed. Never in her life had she been so torn. She at once wished to always be loyal to Lady Mendleton and whatever the lady’s plans were, and at the same time go in the complete opposite direction.
As she had noticed earlier in the evening, her heart had plowed on ahead of her. She well knew now that she loved Lord Langley. She loved Jasper Stapleton, Viscount Langley. That first night, that first cozy dinner with the family, she’d felt the thrill of it. She’d attempted to brush it off and had gone forward looking at other gentlemen and waiting for the same thrill that never arrived. There was a flatness to those encounters, as if an old friend had arrived for a quiet tea. There was nothing thrilling, there was nothing like Lord Langley.
