Darden would not thank him to have four of his friends challenged by a duke.
Still, the man had a right to know. Once he knew, he would rethink his interest in Beatrice, which would be well for her. Though she might not comprehend that at this very moment.
She had no doubt been swept away by the idea of being pursued and becoming a duchess. She would see, over time, that it could never have made her happy. She would see she would have spent her life toe-tapping, waiting for the duke to emerge from his endless bath, and then been miserable when he spent more time admiring himself than his wife.
The earl had invited him to dine the evening before, but he had chosen to take his leave with the other gentlemen. He had considered that he would do well to enjoy a night of peace and quiet with no odes, one-eyed dukes, Desdemonas, or Count Tulersteins to put up with.
Cahill, Dunston, Sir William, and Jericho had been all most perplexed to hear of Count Tulerstein throwing himself off the side of an alpine cliff.
Lord Dunston had even gone so far as to say, “Did they send out mountaineers for a search party to recover him, dead or alive?”
Matthew had cleared his throat and said, “Lord Dunston, once one of Miss Mayton’s suitors has decided to kill himself, there is no turning back.”
This earned him one of Miss Mayton’s indignant sniffs, and dagger eyes from her charges.
Not to be put off, Cordelia was determined to enact her version of Desdemona. Candles were naturally knocked over, though fortunately they were not lit.
The gentlemen had taken their leave shortly thereafter and he was not surprised. Those fellows may have been eager to accommodate Darden in his unfortunate ruse but holding up under the Benningtons’ habits was another matter.
Though Matthew had sought a quiet evening, he had not got one. Oyster seemed to consider the entire house his new territory and insisted on sneaking above stairs whenever he got the chance.
Once there, he went from doors to windows, barking menacingly at anything that might be out there and trying to get in.
Shrimps had made a leash from some twine and he would pull at Oyster, the dog would growl, Shrimps would cry, Oyster would howl, and then they would be friends again.
The footmen had been run off their feet trying to track them down by the sounds of crying and howls and then corral them back downstairs again.
Now, he sat in a bath before he must attend Darden’s ball. Unlike the great Conbatten, it was nowhere near ninety-eight degrees. It was decidedly chilly and he was certain it was purposefully done by Marcus to continue to express his displeasure over Shrimps and Oyster.
So many people imagined their servants had no power, but he knew better. They could make life decidedly uncomfortable when they were in a temper. Further, a servants’ hall was its own carefully formed society. Whenever a new being was introduced into it, there was a shake-up before a settling down. Introduce a wily boy and a troublesome dog and, well, it was bound to be chaotic.
Matthew could not dwell on his own household, though. More pressing matters were at hand. He had not yet decided what to do about the duke, but something must be done. He’d begun to lean toward telling the duke there was a game afoot regarding Lady Beatrice, but not who was involved in the scheme. Conbatten might guess at Darden’s friends, but if he could not be certain, it must head off any danger of a duel.
It was a risky strategy and he had not entirely concluded it was the right one.
Marcus hurried in with a large box. “My lord, you are not going to like it.”
“Let me guess, Oyster has once again gone mad over intruders who are not there and Shrimps is wailing over it.”
“That, yes, but that particular circumstance is becoming so usual one hardly notices.”
“Then what?”
“This,” Marcus said, laying the box down. “Lord Darden has just dropped it off, your costume for the ball.”
“What is it,” Matthew said with a long sigh. “What ridiculous costume am I to appear in?”
“A pigeon, my lord,” Marcus said. Then he hunched up his shoulders and squinted to prepare himself for the oncoming wrath.
“Do not be absurd. Even Darden could not have sent such a thing.”
“He has though, and he says it is in the spirit of the thing and the earl is going as a squid.”
“I will not dress as a pigeon. It is out of the question.”
“But my lord, if the earl is prepared to appear as a squid…”
That idea did give him pause. He was surprised to hear it, of course. But then, if even the earl was prepared to make himself ridiculous… Though, he so disliked making himself ridiculous!
