Darden had beenat his club the past hour and the members had made good progress. The question of Mr. Siddleton had been settled, regarding the possibility that he had not honored a debt. That had proved a fabrication of the first order and the gentleman was voted in. The gentleman who was presumed to have started the rumor would never be let in, which was fine with everybody, since nobody particularly liked him.
They had dispensed with that matter and then went on to confirm the details for what they would call The Tomfoolery Masque.
Now, they had rewarded their hard work with generous glasses of claret. As the other members joked and gossiped, Darden’s mind kept drifting back to the recent scenes at Portland Place.
Beatrice was a dear of a girl, but he was not certain she’d be a married lady coming out of this season. Her requirements were such that no man could approach them.
Of course, his father might be right. In the end, she would meet some gentleman and throw over all her previous ideas.
It was too bad she would not choose Van Doren. Darden was convinced that fellow was hopelessly in love with Beatrice. Why else would the man spend half his life at Westmont House, abused by all five sisters? Further, he’d seen Van Doren looking at her when he did not think anybody observed.
Darden thought his neighbor might have been in love with Beatrice all his life. After all, when they were younger, it had always beenherdoll he hid andherhair he pulled.
Darden was certain that, when the fellow had turned twelve and informed everybody that he would from now on be called Van Doren, rather than Matthew, it had been to impress Beatrice.
Shehadbeen impressed. Then.
But as she’d grown, she’d taken Miss Mayton’s stories more and more to heart. Van Doren could not possibly measure up against Hans or Gregorio or any of the other doomed lovers. Not if he planned to stay living, anyway.
If only Van Doren would not be scolding her all the time. Beatrice was much better managed with honey than vinegar. That did not make her particularly unique—most people were.
As a girl, she had been admiring of Van Doren’s bossy nature, but as a woman, she would not tolerate it. The harder Van Doren tried to make her see sense, the harder she would cling to her delusions.
Or rather, Miss Mayton’s delusions.
Miss Mayton, herself, had always been a bit of a mystery. Were any of her stories actually true? It did not seem as if they could be. But then, so often an invention had some grain of truth in it somewhere. Had there ever been a Hans? If so, where was he now? Dead at the bottom of a mountain or sitting comfortably in his club, thinking of a long ago meeting on an Alpine meadow?
At this point, Van Doren might be a bit too rational for Beatrice. It really was a shame. Van Doren might have too much of the seriousness about him, but he was a fine gentleman and would be careful of a wife. Beatrice would be in secure hands.
It really would be a very good match. Van Doren would be the anchor when Beatrice’s ideas took flight and Beatrice would bring some lightness to Van Doren’s often heavy step.
Darden paused in his thinking. Just because the two of them did not see that they were suitednow, did that mean they would be blind to it forevermore?
What if they were helped along in some manner? And, if someone were to push things along for Beatrice, who better than a brother?
Those two people were both stubborn as mules in their own ways, but certainly it could be done. He would just require some help from the members of his club.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “we have one more matter to discuss. This one will be filed under the auspices of one of our founding precepts—shenanigans.”
*
Matthew had risenthat morning, or at least tried to. His legs were leaden, each step a herculean effort. Never again would he ride on horseback three full days in a row. Not when a certain young miss’s book of poetry must be constantly gone back for, adding unnecessary miles to the journey.
There was something excruciating about going forward three miles, only to have to go back three miles, and then retread the same three miles already traveled, all to find the initial three miles had become nine. It was even more excruciating that all those extra miles were to retrieve a book filled with wondrous yellow orb circles and gentle bovines.
He’d made it as far as the chair by his bedchamber window, where he’d been for some hours with a book. At leasthisbook was a sight better than the one-eyed duke and his deranged governess. The lady fell from the roof and got up, indeed. What publisher read such a manuscript and thought, yes, I must purchase this and send it out into the world?
He supposed a publisher who was confident in there being enough deranged readers to make it a viable enterprise. Perhaps it provided a sad comment on the state of England’s mental capacities.
Matthew watched out his window as the door to Westmont House flew open and Miss Mayton led all five sisters to a carriage.
Beatrice was looking charming in a simple muslin, only decorated with a yellow ribbon round her waist and topped with a velvet tippet and silk bonnet of the same color.
He could not hear what they said to one another, as his window was closed and the avenue too wide, but by the looks of it they were in high spirits.
Why wouldn’t they be? Neither the earl nor Darden had bothered to check them last evening. He’d taken the opportunity of a private moment over port to bring it to their attention once more. It was apparent that both gentlemen viewed the sisters’ bizarre ideas about love as simply an amusement, a phase that would not linger forever.
They did not comprehend the danger of it. No, instead,hewas made to look like a stick for pointing it out.
