“Excellent wine, Earl,” the duke said. “I believe I had something similar at Lady Hightower’s last season.”
“The dry Tokay,” Rosalind said. “I remember how much you liked it.”
The earl sipped his wine and said, “Yes, it’s very good indeed, though I do not recall having it in my cellar. Tattleton, is this a new acquisition?”
Tattleton nodded gravely.
“If you would, Tattleton, please inform my valet of your sources,” the duke said. “He’s gone half mad trying to get the contact out of Lady Hightower’s butler.”
Tattleton delivered his most restrained and dignified nod.
He could not care less what else was said at the table. His wine selection had been noticed by the duke and he’d been tasked with advising the duke’s valet.
His victory was complete.
*
Roland should nothave allowed himself to be caught in the library. Though the house in Town was large by London standards, it was much smaller than his house in Dorset. It gave him the feeling that his mother was round every corner. No, not just the feeling—shewasround every corner.
He ought to have had his correspondence sent up to his bedchamber and dealt with it there.
The dowager had been lying in wait downstairs and as soon as he’d gone in, she’d followed him, and shut the door behind her.
“Baderston,” she said, “I have heard the most alarming things about the Bennington family.”
Roland did not answer.
“I see from your lack of questions that you already know to what I refer,” the dowager sniffed. “Apparently, during Lady Beatrice’s season there were fellows lining up on the pavement at Portland Place. They were all from a certain club.”
“The Young Bucks Club, of which I am currently a member,” Roland said.
“Young bucks?” the dowager sputtered. “You consider yourself a young buck now? What next? Will you style yourself a Corinthian? Or worse, a dandy?”
Roland did not respond. Though, had he answered, he would have pointed out he was far more suited to the Corinthian’s life than he was to Brummel’s careful stylings. Give him a horse and some fences to clear any day—his clothes were his valet’s problem.
“And then, as if a line of gentlemen callers was not disturbing enough, along comes the next sister—Lady Rosalind,” the dowager said.
Roland attempted to keep his expression neutral. Though the talk had been tamped down quickly, therehadbeen some alarming stories gone round.
“Lady Jersey told me, quite confidentially, that it is said that Lady Rosalind arranged her own kidnapping so that the Duke of Conbatten could rescue her. It’s all hushed up now, at the queen’s direction.”
Of course, Roland had heard that precise thing too, and ithadbeen hushed by the palace. Queen Charlotte seemed to favor Conbatten and would not allow the talk to bloom for long.
He really did not know how much, if any, of the original story was true. Darden, usually so voluble, was very quiet on the subject.
“And then,” the dowager rushed on, “Lady Jersey tells me that the woman named Miss Mayton, the bizarre lady who attends entertainments in widow’s weeds, has never even been married! Is that really a proper guide for young ladies? No wonder one of them arranged to be kidnapped.”
Roland felt his cheeks color just a little bit over Miss Mayton. He did not know what else the dowager knew about that lady, but all of society took her to be quite the eccentric. Her preposterous stories had raised eyebrows—he’d heard just that morning that at Almack’s she’d entertained her whist partners with a tale of a Swedish count who’d been despairing of his love for her and somehow come to a bad end.
“Did you know,” the dowager said, “that this Miss Mayton tells some rather delusional stories about herself? She claims she nearly married a French fellow, but he hung himself in his garret, believing his love was unrequited. Now, I ask you, what reasonable person knows somebody who lives in a garret?”
“It seems to me,” he said, “that since Lady Jersey has so much to say about the Benningtons, it is a wonder she still sponsors them all at Almack’s.”
The dowager’s lips tightened. “She does so because Lady Rosalind went and married the duke, giving her protection forevermore. And, I believe Lady Jersey has…a blind spot regarding those girls’ distasteful father.”
“The Earl of Westmont?” Roland asked. “What can you possibly have against the fellow that is significant? You cannot tell me he’s ever done anything to seriously injure you.”
“Can I not?”
