He could not know the thoughts of everybody else in the room, though they politely clapped. Or perhaps they only clapped to bring this ludicrous speech to an end. In either case, the duchess nodded graciously and once more took her seat.
As they were apparently to take turns going in a circle, beginning to the duchess’ right, Lady Mendleton rose, all smiles. “I cannot imagine that anybody’s happiness can exceed my own. Why, right from the beginning, Georgiana proved her worth. Imagine, saving my son from footpads!”
Harry noted Lady Langley squeeze her lord’s hand and Lord Langley give a little cough. He’d always thought that story rather dubious, and now he was certain that it was. It remained a mystery what had really gone on the night Langley was shot.
“And then, of course, dear Georgiana and Jasper have stayed on with us in their own wing of the house which makes it ever so convenient. Georgiana is a true daughter to me. As for little Daisy, well I know you all laugh at it, but she really is very advanced. I dote on her. I am not ashamed to say it, I positively dote.”
Lady Mendleton seemed to have flustered herself in the midst of speaking of her grandchild and sat quickly down and fanned herself.
Lady Heathway rose. “I am not, perhaps, as sentimental as my friend Louisa, though I cannot avoid noticing that my grandniece is rather more alert than is usually to be found in one so young. I have heard that sort of alertness denotes intelligence and that can only be assumed to be right.”
Harry gripped the arm of the chair next to him. Lady Heathway had heard that nonsense from himself while trying to placate her at the duchess’ dinner. He had not the first idea if it were true, and how did one measure alertness anyway?
“Grace has become like my own daughter,” Lady Heathway continued.
Lady Gresham nodded encouragingly.
“It is a comfort to me to know with certainty that I am always welcome in their house, and in fact am pressed to be there more than I can be.”
Lady Gresham was still nodding, though perhaps less encouragingly.
“It was my great trial to straighten out Lady Barlow, Grace’s sickly mother,” Lady Heathway ploughed on, “which I did with remarkable energy and purpose. That lady now has me to thank—she is up and out of bed and happily married to Lord Copeland. I have every confidence that shewillthank me. One of these days.”
Harry heard Isabel choke back a snort. This was all getting too much. Somebody was going to break out into laughter.
“In any case, I know my duty and have done my duty,” Lady Heathway concluded. She sat down like a retiring general having said farewell to her troops.
Lady Easton rose to take her turn. “Penelope has spoken of duty,” she said. “I could not agree more. It is one’s duty to steer young people in the right direction and I hope I can consider my efforts a success. One may notice, if one looks about, that every clock in this placeandSomerdon House is timed to the second. It has been my pleasure to come into this house and straighten it all out for dear Caroline and my dear grandniece, young Caro.”
Harry stole a glance at Lady Bertridge. The lady remained stoic, if one could ignore the slight quivering of her lips.
“I will not shirk my responsibilities for a moment and am here to help for the foreseeable future.Noamount of time is too much.”
Lady Bertridge glanced at her husband with what could only be interpreted as a rather forlorn expression.
Lady Easton sat down, appearing very satisfied by her words.
Lady Featherstone rose, lightly touching her emerald brooch and handing her famed walking stick to a very perplexed Lady Redfield.
“As you all know,” Lady Featherstone said cheerfully, “I live and breathe crimes and mysteries. I have been Lord Ryland’s veritable right hand in our Society for Advancing Criminal Knowledge, or SACK as we insiders call it, for some years.”
Harry almost bellowed with laughter at the look of surprise on Ryland’s face. The fellow had not had the first idea that Lady Featherstone was his right hand, veritable or otherwise. Or that his society had changed tooursociety.
“Naturally,” Lady Featherstone went on, “when the Earl of Copeland found his own mystery in his lap, he instantly called on me, andIinstantly called on Lord Ryland. I do not believe that two minds less incisive than our own would have been able to root out the villain. However, we did it and now Lord Ryland is my dear son-in-law.”
Ryland seemed even more surprised to hear of that relationship. As far as Harry knew, Lady Featherstone was a very distant cousin to Lady Ryland. She had no claim of connection to Lord Ryland at all.
“I could not have wished for a better son-in-law, as he treats Lady Ryland exceedingly well. She is protected from all notion of crimes and their villains, as she does not prefer it. Lord Ryland and I carry on with it, we set our minds to it, making England safer day by day, mystery by mystery. Let the murderers and kidnappers and forgers beware—we are looking for you.”
Harry glanced at the duchess and then he wished he had not as it nearly sent him over the edge. She was staring at the ceiling as if imploring God to stop Lady Featherstone’s crime-solving career.
Lady Featherstone gave one more touch to the brooch she’d won at one of Ryland’s mystery suppers in case anybody forgot she had it. Then she took her walking stick, once owned by the legendary French investigator Vidocq, and raised it slightly in case anybody forgot she had that too.
She sat down, nodding graciously to her audience.
Lady Redfield rose in the fluttering way she had, as if she were a robin looking for a branch to settle upon.
Harry told himself to keep his expression neutral. This was turning out to be better than a Shakespearean comedy, but there was just one more speech to go. He just must make it to the end. There would be ample time to laugh about it when he and Isabel were behind closed doors.
