Page 117 of A Much Maligned Miss

“He’s alright,” Jeb said callously. “You don’t need to worry about ’im.”

“Ugh, God, my head,” Gervaise whimpered, taking a sip of hot coffee. “What the hell happened?”

Jeb shrugged. “You had a skinful, what else?”

Gervaise regarded him dubiously. “I remember leaving the tables around one. It was still in full swing up there,” he said, frowning with the effort of recall. “I left Barty there, lording it over his victims.”

“Made a killing, did he?” Jeb asked without surprise.

“Then what happened?”

“You joined me, Reg, and Effie here in the scullery.”

“Did I?” He had some vague memory of joining them, now he came to think of it. “We had a nightcap…” he said, piecing it together slowly. “Effie was sat on your knee!” he suddenly recalled.

Jeb smirked. “She was.”

“She’s taken you back, then?”

“Yes, thank God. We’re going to church on Sunday to see about getting the banns read.”

“Good for you.” Gervaise nodded slowly.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Jeb replied. “Last night you called me a lucky bastard and started raving about how you wasn’t really an earl.”

“Wasn’t really…what?” Gervaise asked faintly.

“Said you was a fraud and your real name was Captain Gerrard and Miss Caroline knew it. That’s why she wouldn’t marry you.”

Gervaise beheld him speechlessly a moment. “Ah,” he said at last. “It sounds as though I reached a somewhat maudlin state in my drunkenness.”

“Effie was spittin’ mad at you deceivin’ Miss Caroline like that. Read a proper peal over your head, she did.”

“And what did I do?”

“Just held your head in your hands and groaned,” Jeb replied cheerfully. The restoration of his relationship seemed to have given him a decidedly more genial air. “Don’t worry. We ain’t told Barty, nor that Carstairs neither. Your secret’s safe wiv us, Captain.”

Gervaise blinked at him. “It is?”

Jeb shrugged. “Yeah. You’re a good tipper, even if your title ain’t legit. Effie will likely tell that Violet though, and you’ll want to stay out of her way. Proper vindictive, she is. You should see what she did to my sister for bad-mouthing Effie. Chipped her tooth and sent her flying clear across the pavement. Not that she didn’t deserve it,” he added judiciously.

Gervaise sipped his coffee. “I appreciate the warning,” he answered, closing his eyes. He felt quite unequal presently to untangling this particular knot. He finished his coffee and then dragged himself upright. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been reduced to such a state. Maybe at Oxford?

Unbidden, the image of Caroline declaring she would sooner die than marry him burst forth from his memory and he winced. So that had been why he had drunk himself stupid. That had hurt far more than the aching in his skull. Damnation.

And now he would have to go upstairs and let her see him in this appalling state. And he was supposed to be moving out to Uncle George’s this morning, he thought tiredly. Fucking Jeremy. Coming along with his righteous indignation, claiming Gervaise had seduced an innocent under his own roof, and demanding he act decently over the matter.

He couldn’t really blame his oldest friend for not believing Caroline was the one dragging her feet to the altar, not him.

“She went out early,” Jeb said, deducing who he was thinking about.

“What? Where?”

“Said she had to go and see her solicitor,” he answered, quite confounding Gervaise. “Took Reg with her, she did.”

“Her solicitor?”

“Yeah.” Jeb nodded. “That’s what she said.”