Georgiana had not been able to comprehend why Lord Asturt held such a negative view of the monarchy, but she thought she understood it now. She could not know what he’d witnessed during the rebellion, but he would have been a youth at the time. Old enough to perceive the danger but too young to fight. It had no doubt been frightening.
Thinking to pull his mind away from dark memories, she said playfully, “Well, the Stuart pretenders both old and young are long gone so I suppose that sort of talk is all for naught.”
“They were never pretenders,” Lord Asturt said, his voice suddenly sharp. He seemed to collect himself and said, “Of course, should England ever wish for a return of the Stuarts, Count Roehenstart is a direct descendant. He is currently in Russia, I believe.”
“Goodness,” Georgiana said, “I hadn’t known.”
“Hehas royal blood and is recognized by the Tsarina. What are the Hanovers?” Lord Asturt said derisively. “A bunch of German farmers prone to madness.”
“Please do not say such things!” Georgiana said heatedly. She was very afraid that one day soon the lord would misspeak within earshot of the wrong person.
She had thought it would not be much trouble to listen to the lord’s opinions on kings, and it would not be if he were talking of the ancient past. One might disparage King John or even Henry the VIII all one liked, but not the current king. Lord Asturt had twice now come close to sounding treasonous! Could she really consider a man who might do or say something so foolish and irrevocable? He might be stripped of his title, or worse.
Georgiana took in a deep and slow breath and reminded herself to be rational. It might be usual that those living in Ireland spoke with such disregard. Distance from the crown might result in less respect or more casual opinions, she supposed. She had heard that very thing regarding those who made their home in India. He must only learn to keep those opinions quiet while he was in London.
Lord Asturt seemed to recognize her shock over his words and said, “Please excuse me, Miss Wilcox. I did not mean to alarm you.”
Georgiana had nodded and, to her relief, he did not return to the topic.
*
Jasper had toconcede that disguising himself as a footman had not turned out to be his cleverest plan. He’d been run off his feet and gained no new information whatsoever.
My God, these people were impossible to footmen! At first, he had complied with whatever nonsense they demanded.Thislady wished to have a glass of champagne, but not too warm and yet not too cold. It should be the precise temperature of an early spring day. He had a great urge to inquire, “Which spring day, you tedious matron?” Instead, he got her a glass of champagne at the temperature it was currently kept, of which he had not the first idea.
Then,thatgentleman required two pieces of folded paper the width of his pinkie finger, as it appeared his shoes were too big. He would place the paper in the gap between his heels and shoes. Jasper had been forced to explore half the house until he’d stumbled upon the library and acquired it, all the while wondering how Lord Morgan didn’t notice he wore ill-fitting shoes before he left his house.
As if that were not enough,thispert Miss caught his eye and motioned him to her. When he arrived to hear what the lady needed, she pointed to a stray hairpin on the floor. He picked it up, suppressing the urge to stab her in the eye with it.
Finally, though, he realized he need not do anything for anybody. None of these people could tell one footman apart from another and so he just nodded at each new request and drifted away.
If he had gained any insight on this night, it was to mind how he spoke to footmen and forgo asking them for anything silly. Yes, they were paid to run and fetch, but it gave him a bit of a queasy feeling to know that the poor fellows must spend half their lives enraged. He wondered if his own footmen had ever gleefully imagined stabbing him in the eye with an errant hairpin.
He was a bit ashamed that while he had gained that insight, he had caused the real footmen some amount of trouble. Lady Landen was just now berating one of them for failing to mend her broken fan. She had, nearly a half hour ago, told Jasper that she’d dropped it and Mr. Lester had stepped on it. He’d mumbled something about needing to fetch the proper fan repair equipment and left her waiting where she stood. Naturally, Lady Landen had collared the nearest footman and assumed it was the one she’d originally spoken to.
The night was turning out long and tedious and he’d not discovered anything of value. Nobody seemed suspicious or attempting to make contact with Miss Wilcox. Miss Wilcox, herself, did not plant a note or stare meaningfully at anybody. Of course, she might have done so while he was roaming around looking for Lord Morgan’s pieces of paper, but he doubted it.
He’d put himself to all of this trouble for nothing. Nothing but having to observe Miss Wilcox being admired, and dancing prettily.
At least Asturt was not taking her into supper. Jasper had watched them dance for so long that a footman who considered himself senior to the rest had actually elbowed him in the ribs and given him a tray of empty glasses to do he knew not what with. Probably take them to the kitchens, had he known where they were. As it was, he deposited them on a deep windowsill and shifted the drapery to hide them.
He would slip out and return home prior to supper. Attempting to prolong the ruse and serve at table would reveal him to be an imposter in a trice. He had not the first idea of how it was done, but it was always done so seamlessly that he was certain there was some sort of system. It would be as a well-oiled clock, each piece moving in synchronicity under the watchful eye of the butler. His efforts would only result in a jammed gear bringing the whole thing to a painful and embarrassing halt.
In any case, Miss Wilcox was being taken in by Gresham. He did not know what they would talk about, but it was certain to be circumspect. The fellow was sensible and he was Lady Heathway’s nephew, after all.
At least it was not Asturt taking her in. That fellow hung around Miss Wilcox far too much.
She could not choose him, could she? She was so far superior to him in every way. Aside from embroiling herself in a treasonous plot.
*
Lord Gresham hadtaken Georgiana into supper. She had been surprised that he had put himself down for it, as there was no particular spark between them, nor was she entirely at ease with him as she would have been with someone like Mr. Vance. Lord Gresham was handsome and seemed a nice gentleman, to be sure, but Georgiana could never quite forget that he was Lady Heathway’s nephew.
Georgiana had fallen back on her old habit of inquiring into a gentleman’s hobbies, certain she would hear about horses for the next hour, but Lord Gresham had not obliged.
“I have been, until recently, far too busy for entertainments,” Lord Gresham said. “I have spent the past two years mostly traveling from place to place in service to our majesty’s government. Now that I am retired from that duty, do you suggest any particular hobby for me, Miss Wilcox?”
“I do not,” Georgiana said. “I usually inquire only to give a gentleman the opportunity to speak of his horses.”
