What a situation he’d found in the kitchens this morning. One of the housemaids was all aflutter and in tears. He had, at first, presumed she’d broken a vase or spilled something on the carpet.
Daisy was a nervous sort of creature and had broken no end of things, especially since the parrot had arrived. Tattleton could not convince the girl that when the bird screamed “murder,” he really meant almonds. Daisy was convinced that if that avian devil ever got out of its cage, it would chase her down and claw her to death.
But no. Daisy had not dropped anything. That was not it. Once he’d heard whatwasit, he began to pine for news that a vase had been shattered.
Daisy reported that Miss Mayton and Lady Viola had come downstairs before dawn with some ludicrous story about a sick relative.
Not once in all the years that Miss Mayton had been terrorizing the house had she ever mentioned this nameless and now deathly-ill cousin who lived in London.
It was all a lie! He knew it!
Where had they really gone? What were they up to? It could not be anything sensible. For one, the time of day they set off did not bode well for anything sensible. For another, Miss Mayton was involved, and she was never sensible.
Just the day before, he had found himself very sanguine. Lady Hightower had taken an interest in the family and was going to stamp out the talk going round about Lady Viola. Invitations would flow freely once more.
Now, he stood by a very quiet breakfast table. Lady Cordelia and Lady Juliet were silent, stealing glances at the empty chairs across from them.
The earl laid down his newspaper. “Gracious, Miss Mayton and Viola are not down yet? What keeps them, I wonder.”
The ladies Cordelia and Juliet paled.
Tattleton cleared his throat. Now was the moment when he must speak. Now was the moment when he must deliver some very unwelcome news.
He said, “My lord, early this morning, Miss Mayton informed one of the housemaids that she and Lady Viola were rushing off to the bedside of Miss Mayton’s cousin. It was communicated that the lady was very ill.”
Tattleton waited for the earl to leap to his feet and demand answers from the two daughters whohadn’tleft the house in the early hours of the morning.
“Really?” the earl said, once more picking up his newspaper. “I had no idea Miss Mayton had any close relations in Town. Well, I do hope the cousin comes through it. Perhaps we ought to have her to dinner after she makes her recovery.”
Tattleton gripped the edge of the sideboard. That was it? They should have this phantom cousin to dine?
He did not know what to do. What should he do?
He could not follow his own inclinations in this matter. His inclination at this moment was to shout, ‘There is no cousin! I do not know where they have gone, but I can assure you they are even this moment knee-deep in one of their bad plans!’
*
Roland had beenbrought to his senses after being doused with cold water and having hot coffee poured down his throat.
At least, he felt he’d been brought to his right mind, though Conbatten remained dubious about it.
His eyes, on the other hand, were a little bit of a different matter. The duke had been forced to lead him by the arm to his carriage.
Roland had nursed hopes that the swelling would have come down overnight, but that had not occurred.
The duke pointed out that the swelling was always going to be worse in the morning, after lying down all night.
Roland had not, it must be admitted, taken that into consideration.
He could just see through the slits of his eyelids and so he knew they had entered the park.
Conbatten rapped on the roof and the carriage slowed to a stop.
This was it. Somehow, he must survive three duels.
Conbatten leapt out of the coach. Roland stumbled after him.
The green was crowded with three challengers, three men acting as seconds, three doctors, three grooms, and the twelve horses that had carried them there.
