Chapter Sixteen
Perry toured thedrawing room and library, assuring himself that everything was in order. The house was quiet, as all the family had gone out. Lord Mendleton was supposed to be home nursing his alleged gouty foot, but as soon as his lady was gone he’d made a remarkable recovery and gone to his club. Perry had no idea where Lord Langley had taken himself off to, but according to Marcus, he’d left his Poseidon costume behind. Marcus had seemed fairly distraught over it and had asked repeatedly if anybody knew if he’d got a second costume he might have taken with him to his club.
However distraught Marcus might be over it, Lady Mendleton was sure to be a deal worse, as she’d put quite an effort into it.
Perry had left the rest of the staff playing cards in the servants’ hall. He had no inclination for amusement at this moment. His thoughts were too taken up by Miss Wilcox.
Perhaps his earlier suspicions had been just that, but now he’d caught her eavesdropping on Lady Mendleton and Lady Heathway! What was he to do about it? What had been her purpose?
He’d thought of going to Lady Mendleton with the information. He’d even composed and practiced what he would say, the drawing room he just now paced became his stage and the darkened room lent it a certain amount of drama.
He would stand here…no, here. He would decisively turn and say—
My lady, over the years, when certain matters have come to my attention, I have thought, is this the hill on which I plant my flag and die a hero’s death? Will I sacrifice my livelihood and therefore my very life to cry out against what I know is an injustice? Will I sacrifice myself over yet another flea-bitten mongrel turned up at the door or another servant hired who manages to know nothing, or a housekeeper who drinks sherry at noon, or a cook employed who, frankly, overuses garlic? In all those cases, I have resigned myself to walk away from the hill and keep my own counsel. In all those cases, the injustice was done to ME. That, I could bear. But this! There is a game afoot involving the family I have sworn to serve and the interloper who has been brought into it. And so this, the hill of Miss Wilcox, is the hill I shall die upon.
It relieved his feelings to imagine himself giving such a speech and he practiced it for a full hour before discarding the idea. His lady was far too fond of the girl and, in any case, Miss Wilcox might invent any sort of fiction to account for her standing outside of the drawing room door. He would be blamed for accusing an innocent young lady.
However, he would not abandon the family to their fate! Whatever Miss Wilcox was up to, he would do his best to discover it. He would keep his eyes sharp as a hawk, his hearing good as a fox, and his guiding instincts as attuned as a cloud of barn bats.
Miss Wilcox would not out-hawk, out-fox, or out-bat him.
In the meantime, he was rather cheerful over how articulate and stirring he could be when he had a mind to.
*
The ball hadbegun, and it had become all too clear that Jasper would not come. There was no Poseidon in the room.
Georgiana supposed she must take that as her answer. He had been expected by his motherandthe hostess, and still he had not come. Avoiding her must be the reason.
She had for a moment grasped at wild ideas that might explain his absence—perhaps he had been taken ill, or encountered a misadventure on the road, or been suddenly called to the queen’s side. However, the sensible part of her mind would not allow her to cling to such fantasies. He’d left the house early and had never the intention of coming. He would no doubt excuse himself with some story.
The sensible part of her mind also told her she must throw over her fevered imaginations of Lord Langley. She had clung to the idea of wait and see, but she had waited and now she saw.
It was never to be, she had been foolish in thinking it might, and she’d best begin thinking of practicalities. She’d had the notion that if it could not be Jasper, it could not be anyone. She’d thought it would be too unfair to marry a gentleman when her heart belonged to another. Commonsense had crept in, though. If every lady disappointed in love never married, England would soon find itself short of people and families would overflow with spinsters. Commonsense told her that she would not relish looking back twenty years from now and realizing that she had been an idiot who had thrown away her chances. She must be steely-eyed rational and do what was right and what was expected of her by her father.
She must marry. Lady Mendleton had been a dear to suggest a second season, but that was not yet firm and she supposed Lord Mendleton might have something to say about it. He was very kind, but he might not be willing to have her as an endless houseguest. This season could very well be her only chance. She could not bear to disappoint her father by coming home just as she had left. He would think her so foolish, and he would be right.
As for herself, she did not wish for spinsterhood and could not afford it even if she did wish for it. Her father’s estate was entailed, such as it was, and the heir was entirely unknown to her. She could not put herself at the mercy of some fellow in Cornwall who would be none too pleased to be saddled with a dependent after having inherited an estate that barely paid its way.
She could go back to her original plan, she supposed. She might marry a passing soldier. Though, she had begun to realize that idea had always been only a comfort and not a real plan. She’d not once met an officer at their local assemblies who she liked even a little. They always seemed too old or too young, too voluble or too silent, too coarse or too…no, none of them had seemed too refined.
TherewasLord Asturt to consider. She did not dislike him, after all. She suspected he liked her, at least he seemed as if he did, and Lady Mendleton was thoroughly convinced of it. She did appreciate his indulgence toward her. He had been not the least put off to watch her sail over Minerva’s back and did that not speak of a liberal temperament? He seemed good-natured enough and it was really no trouble to allow him to wax on about his research into the kings of England if he liked it. There were far worse hobbies he might engage in—it was not as if he were out collecting earthworms on the road and naming them.
His estate was in Ireland and she could not say whether that would be pleasant or no, having never been. But then, aside from her own neighborhood and now London, she’d never been to any other county in England. If a gentleman from Cornwall or Devon were to ask, was she to be put off because she’d never been? She might look at Ireland just the same. Well, perhaps notjustthe same. As an Englishwoman, she would not be particularly well-received, at least not by a sizable amount of the local population.
She was not unsympathetic to the rebels and their cause, though it verged on un-English to say so. After all, if Italians or Danes had confiscated her father’s lands she supposed she’d be all for swift action with a sword. Though, considering the fairly recent strife, she did wonder why Lord Asturt had spent so much time there. Perhaps the situation was not what she had been led to believe it was?
All these thoughts had consumed her through the first dance, and she pitied Mr. Swanson. He’d been so keen to claim the first, seeming to think it a great victory, but she assumed he was rather less keen now. She had been far too quiet and not done him a justice at all and it would not surprise her if he gave her a wide berth going forward. Whatever he was to do, he appeared relieved to be done with the set.
Lord Asturt came to claim her and she felt suddenly awkward. She’d just been thinking of him in a manner she had not viewed him before and it had somehow affected her. Still, she was determined not to be as dull as she’d just been with Mr. Swanson. She also determined that if she were going to consider him at all seriously, she ought to find out as much as she could.
As they waited their turn, Georgiana said, “Lord Asturt, I know so little about Ireland, in which part do you live and how do you find it?”
“My estate is in County Wexford,” Lord Asturt said. “Ballyhough Hall is a pleasant place, set on a hill and overlooking farms and pastures. Far more quiet than London, as you might imagine. Do you, Miss Wilcox, enjoy the quiet of the countryside?”
“Indeed I do,” Georgiana said. “Though, your own neighborhood must not always have been quiet. The rebellion was not so long ago.”
Lord Asturt’s expression seemed to cast the supposition aside. “That was all too predictable,” he said. “A rational king would have seen that the American and French revolutions would inspire those nearer to home to try the same. He might have toured or demanded Parliament hear their complaints. Many of us were disgusted with the lack of foresight. I do recall a lot of talk about how a restoration of the Stuarts would be preferable to the dull-witted Hanovers.”
