“Open the other two letters,” Cordelia said.
“Yes, do,” Juliet said. “I will guess it is only Lady Margaret being strange.”
“I am almost afraid to open this one,” Viola said. “It is from Lady Rumsgartner. She is such a stickler that she makes Lady Margaret seem almost wild and carefree.”
Miss Mayton nodded. “She is the one that never hosts any sort of frivolity. It is all for a charitable cause. We were meant to go to her…what was it? Some sort of lottery, I think.”
“For the Pauper’s Society,” Viola said. “The money is to go for supplies, fabrics and threads, so that disadvantaged girls might be trained as seamstresses.”
She cautiously opened the letter. After reading it, she dropped it in her lap.
Chapter Eleven
Viola’s sisters readthe letter from Lady Rumsgartner. She had no need to reread it herself—its message was burned into her thoughts.
Lady Viola Bennington—
An alarming report has reached my ears—it is an unfortunately reliable report that I have heard from several reliable people. It is said that you ran off with some sort of traveling tinker, did not go through with a wedding, and returned to your father’s house. You may be free to bring such shame to your father’s house, but I am offended that you would have imagined you might bring it into MY house. You are stricken from my guest lists this season and forevermore.
Also, that chaperone of yours, Miss Mayton, must be included in the shame as I will suppose she did not keep a very close eye on you if you were at liberty to set off for Scotland.
Lady Penelope Rumsgartner, Marchioness of Medham
Viola felt a cold chill seep into her body. What had she done? That was not the story that was meant to go round. How could the lady believe she’d actuallygoneto Gretna Green? It was a preposterous idea.
But how stupid that she had not considered that the story might be embellished.
No. One could not even call it embellishment. It was an outright fabrication.
Had Lady Clara done it? Or had it been someone else who’d heard it and decided it was not scandalous enough?
Whoever had done it, Viola recognized that she had nobody but herself to blame. She should have seen that playing with gossip was too risky. She had been so desperate to give Lord Baderston his moment to prove himself that she had been rash and foolhardy.
Her sisters and Miss Mayton had pored over the letter with several gasps. Chester, seeming to sense the upset all around him, groomed himself and muttered, “Murder, murder, murder.”
Before anybody but Chester could say a word, Darden burst into the room.
“Viola! I have just heard the most terrible report!”
*
Roland had beenlooking very much forward to Lady Margaret’s card party. The lady was long known, she provided an excellent sideboard, and she always had an interesting selection of guests. He had every year been invited, not because he was himself so very interesting, but because Lady Margaret was a cousin to his father and had always been a great friend to him.
He had been delighted to hear that Lady Viola had been invited too, and of course it made perfect sense. Lady Margaret was very friendly with Conbatten and was said to be charmed by his new duchess. Those genial feelings had very naturally extended to include the duchess’ younger sister, Lady Viola.
Though Lady Margaret was a relation, Roland was in no danger of encountering his mother there. For one thing, those two ladies had never cared for one another. Roland did not know the whole story, but there had been some sort of rift created. He had the feeling that Lady Margaret had not rejoiced when his father had announced his engagement. So, while his mother had no trouble at all barging into a party without an invitation, she would never think to barge into Lady Margaret’s house.
The other guarantee that he would not be plagued by the dowager is that he knew from Barnard that his mother had been snooping into his calendar again. As it was not hisrealcalendar, but the false one he had set up to stymie her, she would get nowhere with it.
Despite him having entered some ridiculous notations in it, and despite discovering he’d not gone to the theater the night before, she would continue with the idea.
He had managed to avoid her since her encounter with Miss Mayton at Lady Bloomington’s masque. He simply was not interested in her endless complaints and he was certain she would have no end of them to add in regards to Miss Mayton.
If she were intent on tracking him down on this particular night, she’d find herself on her way to a rout at Mrs. Persweiler’s house. Upon arrival, she’d discover that house dark, as he understood Mrs. Persweiler to be in York just now. Wherever Mrs. Persweiler actually was, she was definitely not hosting a rout anywhere but from the inside of his false calendar.
“Lady Margaret,” he said, as she approached with a smile. Roland scanned the room over her shoulder. He spotted Conbatten and his duchess. There were several others he knew, including Lady Clara’s brother, who he was not anxious to see. That particular viscount considered himself a Corinthian of the first order, though Roland just found him a rather surly fellow with rough manners.
There was no sign of who he really looked for—Lady Viola. At least, not yet.
