Chapter Twelve
Winsome had thoughtand then thought again about how to save Lord Manderbey from his terrible gambling habit. How could she do it? She had no power to do it. She was just a lady he’d met in Town.
At first, she imagined she might speak to him directly about it. She’d dismissed the idea. It would be so affronting for a lady to lecture a gentleman of her sphere on such a matter. Or any matter. No man would tolerate it. It would damage his dignity.
If she could not speak directly, what could she do?
Mrs. Right laid out her dress and said, “What’s on your mind, Poppet? You look very pensive. If it’s about Mr. Wicket, pay no mind. That situation is well on its way to being solved.”
“No, it is not Mr. Wicket. It is just that, well I know perfectly well I ought to run the other direction from Lord Manderbey—”
“Aye, a gambler is nothing but trouble and heartache. A lifetime of misery.”
“But I am not going to. I tried, you see, but I cannot do it. So then I thought, might I be able to help him change the habit of gambling that he’s acquired?”
Mrs. Right dropped the dress in her hands. “Change him?”
Winsome nodded. “He is perfect in every other way. It is just this one thing that might be…dangerous.”
Mrs. Right hurriedly picked up the dress. “I had not thought ofchanging him. No, that had never occurred to me.”
“But I rather think it could be done. I’ve just got to think of the right strategy.” Winsome paused, examining the housekeeper. “You do not think it could be done.”
“Uh, as to that, it is just…well I hadn’t really thought.”
Winsome had left it at that. She could see very well that Mrs. Right did not hold out much hope that such a thing could be accomplished. She would not give up hope herself though. She was tempted to ask her father, but then she must make him aware of the problem in the first place, which she had not done.
“All right,” the duke said, as the carriage barreled along the dark streets to Sir Jonathan’s scavenger hunt, “I can see very well that something is on your mind. Out with it.”
“On my mind? No, there is nothing on my mind,” Winsome said. She did not like to hide anything from her father, but this she must.
“Well now, I cannot know the particulars, but I can guess well enough the subject,” the duke said. “It is about Manderbey, one way or another.”
Winsome did not answer. Her father was really so attuned to his daughters’ feelings, it was very hard to hide anything from him.
“Now listen here, Winny, I have been down this road five times already, always with the same result. One of my daughters becomes convinced things have somehow become hopeless, they never are, and then they discover they never had anything to worry over in the first place.”
“Papa, you know very well that I am not prone to wild flights of fancy. I am a very practical person with my feet firmly on the ground.” She said it, though it was not entirely true. It used to be true, at least she had thought so.
“I only say, whatever it is, it is likely nonsense.”
The carriage had slowed and Winsome was grateful for it. She could not go on lying through omission to her own father. Sooner orlater, she would crack like an egg dropped on the pavement. She must just find a way to fix Lord Manderbey’s problem before she had to hide it longer.
Sir Jonathan resided in a fine white stone house on Duke Street. They departed the carriage and made their way in, greeting their host in the great hall.
“Everyone is to gather in the ballroom and at precisely nine o’clock I will explain the rules and then everybody may make their way to the garden for the game to begin,” Sir Jonathan said. “Duke, you will find several sideboards in the ballroom that I trust you will find up to the mark.”
“You read my mind, Sir,” the duke said jovially.
The ballroom had filled as it was nearing nine o’clock already.
“Ah, there’s that rascally dowager and her grandson,” the duke said. “Duchess,” he called, leading Winsome toward one of the many sideboards lining the walls of the ballroom.
Winsome took in Lord Manderbey’s tall frame standing by his diminutive grandmother. There was nothing for it—whatever bad habit Lord Manderbey had fallen into, he was spectacular.
“Lady Winsome, Duke,” he said. “I am glad you found us. Shall we work as a team to solve the clues?”
“Very good notion, Manderbey.”
