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“Because, in a manner of speaking, that is precisely what I am, but I rather think we should take this conversation indoors,” the earl answered. He took Kitty’s elbow, swiftly extricating her from Lord Magdalen, who immediately and good-naturedly offered Nanny his bent arm.
The innkeeper appeared and respectfully inquired if they needed a private parlor. The earl secured this and asked for tea, cakes, and little sandwiches as well.
Magdalen said, “Ah, good … good, now we may be private, and you may tell me, Brandon, what this havey cavey business is all about.”
~ Nineteen ~
JUST AS THE Earl of Halloway’s lively group sat to tea at the Red Lion, Lady Jersey, London’s most renowned hostess, stood up from her yellow satin chair and set her dainty china teacup down on the Hepplewhite side table.
She was deep in thought and took a slow turn around the elegantly furnished parlor of Halloway House. She came to stand finally at the bowed window overlooking the quiet square. She rarely allowed the sun to shine full on her face anymore. She had been an attractive, almost beautiful young woman in her day, but though many still called her lovely, she knew her age was beginning to show.
Well, well, this certainly was an odd turn of events indeed. The dowager continued her chatter, seemingly unaware that the Jersey was scarcely listening. Just how should she handle this matter? The earl was a favorite flirt. Oh yes, he was younger, but if she were not sleeping with the Prince Regent, she would have dallied her way into the earl’s bed. He was magnetic and intriguing, and she chewed her lip because he would be out of reach.
His grandmother, Minerva, was a highly respected and extremely influential former London hostess herself. In addition to that, her family name carried weight with even the regent himself. The Jersey could not afford to insult her.
She patted her dark hair and pursed her lips. Even so, she must make a token show of power. “Well, the thing is, Minnie, this country child of yours … well, she isn’t even related to you, and we don’t make a habit of issuing vouchers without first meeting—”
Minnie waved this off with her hand in the air and then a pointing finger. “Don’t give me any absurdities, Sally. I won’t have it. But to set your mind at rest, this country child, as you call her, is a Kingsley. The chit’s father was a squire, and her mother was a Benning. Nothing to scoff at there. Besides, she is under my protection.”
The Jersey immediately went to the dowager and took her hand. “Of course, she is. Of course.” She wasn’t about to insult a Halloway. That would not do her any good, and what would be the point? The old woman was correct. The girl had lineage. “Excellent breeding there … I see that, and I suppose she is an heiress if she was Wharton’s ward?”
Minnie eyed her and said, “I would not call her quite an heiress in the true sense, but, yes, suffice it to say that her dowry is quite handsome and the living her inheritance allows her is more than substantial—quite handsome, in fact.”
Jersey eyed the dowager and thought the woman wasn’t being totally forthcoming. Hmm. No doubt the chit was an heiress, and the dowager meant to keep that to herself.
“My grandson, Brandon, was Wharton’s nephew and as such inherited the estate and quite a substantial fortune as well,” the dowager eyed the Jersey with ever so slight a smirk.
Sally Jersey was boxed in.
She would have to issue the chit vouchers to Almack’s. There was no getting away from it. She said speculatively, “Well, well … I suppose that makes the earl one of the Season’s greatest marriage prizes, doesn’t it? La! A title, good looks, charm, and wealth. This should be a very interesting Season.” She eyed the dowager thoughtfully. “No doubt, Minnie, you will be presiding over two weddings. The Kingsley chit’s and your grandson’s.”
“Indeed,” said the dowager with only a small lift of her lip—though enough to make the Jersey wonder just what the older woman was thinking.
* * *
Magdalen pushed his empty plate away. “I cannot eat another thing.”
“Well, that is very good, since you have eaten everything in sight,” Kitty said on a giggle.
The earl noted that she was very much at ease with Alex and asked quietly, “How did you two ever meet?” Magdalen was his age and yet seemed a youth. Perhaps it was Alex’s boyish grin? At any rate, this was a question he wanted answered.
“Well, you must remember that small estate I have in Beaulieu—the Manor. Well, it runs only a few miles away from Wharton Place. I inherited the blasted thing when we were up at Cambridge and running amok together.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and the earl laughed.
“Yes, I do remember now,” the earl said. “Right … so you met …?”
“Ah, yes. I discovered Kitty all those years ago. She was riding with the huntsman. A slip of a girl. Plucky little thing, helping the whips keep the hounds on track and off the deer. What were you, Kitty—ten or eleven?”
“I was twelve, you dolt,” Kitty said and laughed happily. “But, oh, it was a glorious day.”
“Right, well, she was a mad little hoyden, ready to take on the world. One of the hounds got away from the pack, and my horse was about to kick it when it got too close. Not a hunter, that nag, not good around the hounds. At any rate, Kitty here managed to jump off her horse and scoot the hound out of the way until I got my beast under control. Like I said, plucky little thing.” He eyed the earl. “But you must have already learned that, by now.”
“Aye,” the earl said quietly and looked at Kitty. “I’ve learned that by now, eh, Kitty?” He was rewarded with an open smile and a pretty blush, and he thought he had never seen anything prettier.
He watched Alex regain her attention and flirt with her outrageously and felt a sure irritation shake him. She was not at all up to snuff, and he didn’t want Alex and his kind turning her innocent head. That was all it was. After all, look at how easily he had wangled a kiss from her. Or had she wangled one from him?
“Alex, are you on your way to Beaulieu Manor now?” Kitty asked.
“Indeed,” the earl stuck in. “Where are you off to?”
