Page 79 of The Smuggler’s Escape

By the time Betsy came in with a tray of chocolate and biscuits, Noelle had hidden the silk nightdress and wrapper under her other nightwear, laid a muslin gown and stays on the bed, and was seated in a clean shift at the dressing table, brushing her hair.

Noelle stood the instant the maid came in. “Betsy, help me dress. I must speak to Lord Boltwood immediately.”

Betsy set the tray down and curtsied. “I’m sorry, miss, but his lordship has gone out.”

“Gone out? Where?”

“I dunno, miss. Seems he got a message and had to attend to some business.”

Peste. She’d forgotten to tell Richard that he couldn’t bring Holmes along. Or even tell him he meant to accompany her. And that he mustn’t tell Lady Boltwood or anyone else.“Is everyone at breakfast?”

Betsy assented, evidently trying for the disinterested expression proper to a servant. She failed utterly.

“Spit it out, Betsy,” Noelle said.

“Lady Boltwood was that upset with Lord Boltwood for leaving. ‘However will I manage to hold my tongue?’ she asks him. ‘Don’t hold it,’ says milord. ‘Say whatever comes into your head.’ But milady’s that kind and polite, she’d never do such a thing. ‘We must find a way to get rid of Lady Darsington before I have an apoplectic fit,’ milady says. ‘Tomorrow,’ says milord, ‘I’ll have time to infuriate her tomorrow.’”

Noelle held up her arms so Betsy could help her into the stays. “Poor Lady Boltwood. I’d best go deflect some of that old besom’s wrath to myself.”

Betsy giggled. She hauled on the strings and laced up the stays.

“Not too tight,” Noelle said. “I shall need enough breath for insults.”

Betsy giggled again. “Poor Miss Darsington, too.”

Noelle looked a question in the mirror.

“What a trial, having a mother like that one. Makes me thankful for my old mum, God rest her soul. She never stopped scolding, my mum, but she always meant well.”

“So did mine,” Noelle said. “I miss her.”

“Aye, no doubt you do, miss, but she’ll be watching from above on your wedding day.”

Noelle sighed and did her best to hope her mother would instead pray for her in the coming months.

“That Lady Darsington is a bully, and that’s putting it nicely,” Betsy said. “She says Lord Boltwood compromised Miss Darsington, first at a grand London ball and then in the passageway last night. Miss Darsington says they was only talking, and she’s not compromised and never will be. And her mum says yes, she is and she’ll be ruined. And on and on and on.”

“How did you happen to hear all this?”

Betsy blushed. “I was bringing in a tray of chocolate, miss, so I couldn’t help but overhear. I waited outside the door till I thought they was done argufying, but even after I knocked and went in, they just kept on, the old witch saying yes and Miss D saying no. You’d best marry his lordship quickly, miss, ’cause as long as he’s unwed, Lady D will never give up.”

Betsy dropped the muslin gown over Noelle’s head and tidied her hair, while Noelle pondered how to help Dorothea combat her mother—for when Richard returned from the Continent, he would still be a single man.

What, she wondered, had Dorothea and Richard been discussing in the corridor last night?

She arrived at the breakfast table to hear Lady Darsington pronounce, “It is most courageous of you, Phoebe dear, to welcome into the bosom of your family a person of such dubious repute.” She executed an excellent start, as if she hadn’t seen Noelle already. “Oh, I beg your pardon. Good morning, Mademoiselle de Vallon.”

Noelle bestowed a greeting and a brilliant smile on the table at large and took a seat. Lady Boltwood, tight-lipped, spread butter on a roll; Dorothea, paler than yesterday, stared stonily at the wainscoting.

Lady Darsington wrinkled her nose as if presented with bad fish. “I was referring, of course, to this tinker named Magee.”

Before Lady Boltwood could speak, Noelle said breezily, “Johnny Magee’s reputation isn’t dubious at all. He’s known as the best kisser for miles around.”

Lady Boltwood choked on her coffee. Dorothea gaped at Noelle.

Noelle flashed a glance back at Dorothea. I’m trying to help. “All over England and in his native Ireland, women swoon for Johnny’s kisses.”

Lady Boltwood recovered first. She touched her table napkin to her lips. “That doesn’t surprise me. He may be a tinker, but he’s a very good-looking man. What a shame for all those ladies that he is unwell.”