“I know it,” Mrs. Right said. “All those novels you read have always put you on edge. But I suppose with things seeming to go so well with Lord Manderbey—”
“That’s the problem, though,” Winsome said. “It’s him. He’s the one with gambling debts.”
“Lord Manderbey? Are you certain?”
“Yes, it is almost certainly so, but Mrs. Right, how did you come upon this vague warning?”
Mrs. Right pulled out the letter and handed it over. She watched Winsome read through it intently.
Winsome handed the letter back. “It’s confirmed then,” she said. “This is without a doubt about Lord Manderbey. He is being dunned, which I’ve heard from two people who know him—one a friend and the other a cousin. He shrugs off any idea about debt as if it is of no consequence, and then at Fact or Fib he said he had personal experience with excessive gambling and named it commonplace.”
“But are you certain this letter refers to him? I cannot work out whatTRULOGAPmeans.”
“Oh, I did assume that was the name of a horse he’d bet on. You know how racing horses have all sorts of strange names. It could be a place name, perhaps where the horse was sired. I cannot think what else it could be.”
It did indeed make sense. The letter was about gambling andTRULOGAPcould be a horse’s name. Since it was specifically mentioned in the letter, it hinted that this horse had a large part to play in the gambling debts. Perhaps in one of those stupid carriage races the gentlemen were always cooking up. And here she’d been only thinkingabout cards, but there were endless ways a gentleman could gamble away their money.
“He is after your dowry, then,” Mrs. Right said, feeling the anger beginning to boil inside her. As was always the case when one of her girls was in danger or insulted in any way, a fury came over her. The duke said she was a regular herring gull guarding her chicks and would peck out the eyes of anyone attempting to harm them. She preferred to think of herself as a mighty lioness protecting her cubs on the dangerous savannahs of London.
Winsome shrugged as if the situation was no matter, but Mrs. Right could see her eyes were shining. Her girl had been hurt. She’d been hurt by a gambling rogue who had come into this house pretending to be a respectable gentleman. He’d even brought his dowager as a cover of respectability. It was outrageous. It must be answered.
Mrs. Right, being a woman of good sense, did pause for a moment before allowing her outrage to carry her away. As she liked to face the truth head on, she could not avoid reflecting on other seasons when it had seemed that one of her girls had been done wrong.
She’d given away Mr. Stratton’s laundry, changed his household’s grocery order to exclusively cabbages, and caused a permanent rift with his wine merchant. She’d made Lord Dashlend’s hysterical valet believe he was being dismissed, throwing that household topsy-turvy. She’d infested Lord Stanford’s house with case moths which had taken specialized assistance to defeat. She’d meddled with the springs on Lord Thorpe’s carriage, causing an unfortunate delay to the wedding trip. And then last year, she’d circulated a print that depicted Lord Wembly’s pants on fire.
All very unfortunate incidents as it had turned out things had not been what they seemed. Fortunately, those moments really could be considered water under the bridge now. No harm done, as it were. Here, however, she held the proof in her hands. It was incontrovertible.
“I find myself very miserable, Mrs. Right,” Winsome said. “Though my head tells me one thing, my heart says something different.”
“There now, child,” Mrs. Right said soothingly. “Everything will look brighter in the morning, it always does.”
Mrs. Right worked to keep a neutral smile of calm on her face. Her thoughts were a different matter. Her thoughts seethed with indignation that one of her precious girls was hurt.
Lord Manderbey must pay for the insult.
*
Lord Landry felthimself exceedingly bold at this moment of his life. He’d accepted the invitation to Lady Jellerbey’s candlelight picnic on his own, with no interference from his relations. Wandering round in dim light seemed almost dangerous, but Lady Edith had assured him she would go and that he ought to go too.
They’d played piquet at the card party they’d both attended and she had pointed out all sorts of things he ought to think and do. He’d never been so relaxed around the mysterious female sex. There was something comforting about her long diatribes where he was only expected to agree. He barely had to hold up his end of the talking.
And then, when his Aunt Agatha had tried to push in, well then he saw Lady Edith’s true might. She’d informed the lady that piquet only admitted two players and, furthermore, they were in the midst of a conversation. His aunt, always so pushy and frightening, had positively slinked away! He’d never seen the like of it.
They’d gone on to have a discussion about their herds, which had been very pleasant. Now, he wandered Lady Jellerbey’s dim rooms, searching for her distinctive forceful frame. He did not see her, but was suddenly tapped on the shoulder. He jumped and turned to whowas sneaking up on him.
“Lord Landry.”
It was Lady Winsome, another lady he admired as she was kind and not too frightening. And her father, who he was not certain what to make of.
He bowed. “Lady Winsome. Your Grace.”
“Landry,” the duke said. “Well met. Entertain my daughter while I search out some claret. I can only abide staggering round in the dark if I have a glass in hand.”
The duke went off to locate a sideboard. Lady Winsome said, “I am glad to encounter you, I was hoping to ask you something.”
Landry nodded, though he was not very used to anybody hoping to see him or wanting to ask him anything. Then he realized what it must be. “You wonder how I got on with Lady Edith at the card party. It went well. Yes, I think I can claim that—it went well.
“I am very glad to hear it,” Lady Winsome said. “Of course I wished to know it. And actually, I had second question too. Have you ever heard of a racing horse name Trulogap?”
