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The three Marfords exchanged glances. “That is what has us puzzled , too,” Lord Humphrey said. “Why should anyone wish to start scurrilous rumours about either of you? But you might be able to answer that, if you hear his name.”
“Are you going to tell me?” Will said.
Lord Humphrey grinned. “Shall we come to an arrangement, Fletcher? If we tell you who it is, you will tell us what grudge he has against you?”
“Done.”
“Somerwell.”
“Ah.” Will gave a soft laugh. “Well, well, well. The man has all the courage of a flea. If he had an ounce of honour, he would have called me out. He tried to kiss my sister, gentlemen, and when I discovered them together on a secluded path at Vauxhall, I drew his cork. It was a little precipitate, perhaps, but I cannot regret it.”
The Marford men laughed too. “Yes, that would do it. Somerwell is a weasel,” Lord Humphrey said. “He has a mistress in his keeping, did you know that? Beats her, too, seemingly.”
“He beats his horses, too, which is worse,” Lord Gus said darkly. When the others looked askance at him, he went on, “Well, itisworse. A mistress may leave her protector if she chooses, but a horse cannot.”
“That is neither here nor there,” Lord Monty said in his quiet way. “Mr Fletcher, Carrbridge is distressed by the rumour and would like it to be dealt with.”
“I am flattered, naturally, that Lord Carrbridge interests himself in my affairs,” Will said, “although it puzzles me why he should do so.”
“Before he met Lady Carrbridge, he was himself almost the victim of a lady who used underhand stratagems to entangle him, so he feels the affront most deeply if any other man should be caught that way. He has charged us to determine whether you feel you have been unfairly entangled, and if so, to bring the betrothal to a discreet end. If we take her aside and represent to her the unwisdom of her actions, and how much it would distress Lady Carrbridge if it were ever to come to her ears, I am sure that Miss Whittleton would have no trouble releasing you from your engagement. We can be… very persuasive, you know.”
Looking at the three brothers, Will could well believe it. Individually, they were not imposing, apart from Lord Humphrey, but collectively, and with perhaps all six of them gathered together, to a gently brought up lady they would appear excessively intimidating. Yes, Eloise would certainly bow to their wishes. Poor Eloise! He was aware of a yearning to protect her. No one should impose upon her, not while she was betrothed to Will Fletcher.
“We would not see her suffer any adverse consequences,” Lord Monty said hastily. “She could go back to her home, wherever that is, a little better off than she arrived, you may be sure.”
“No one need know anything about it,” Lord Humphrey said. “We have enough influence in the clubs to squash any unpleasantness there. We can deal with Somerwell, too, if you wish. An effete man like that is easy enough to intimidate — we have only to loom over him, and he will recoil in horror. We are very good at looming. As for Miss Whittleton, if she has indeed coerced you and you wish to be free of her, you need only say the word. Consider us your guardian angels, protecting the rights of free men to choose a wife of their liking and not be bamboozled by wily females.”
There it was, if he wanted. He could be free of the annoying Miss Whittleton once and for all, if he wished. But did he so wish? He imagined for an instant a life without Eloise, without her sharp tongue and prickly nature… but also without that glorious singing voice, that lovely smile, the admirably womanly figure, the graceful movements in the dance.
Without hesitation, he said, “You are very generous, my lords, but I am perfectly content in my choice of wife. As for Somerwell… I shall deal with him myself.”
They bowed, and allowed Will to return to the ballroom. The final dance before supper was in colourful motion, more than half of each set already caught up in the figures. Will scanned the dancers looking for a certain pale green gown, but in vain. He saw Rosie with Lord Albury, and Angie with Tranter. He even spotted his mystery lady, her gold dress swirling about her ankles. But the one lady he most particularly sought eluded him. Where was she? He prowled around the perimeter of the ballroom hopefully.
There was no sign of Eloise, but he found Michael Plummer lurking, half hidden by a large potted plant and quite alone.
“Have you escaped?” Will hissed in a melodramatic whisper.
Plummer laughed. “They have all gone to the card room, and left me alone for once. It is very pleasant not having to dance, or to talk — present company accepted, of course. I enjoy just standing and watching.”
“In all this watching, have you seen my betrothed anywhere? Tall lady, pale green gown.”
“No, sorry, but then all these ladies look the same to me.”
“Even that one?” Will said, gesturing towards his mystery lady, now twirling her laughing way down the set, setting everyone she passed laughing too. “The one in gold.”
“Do you mean Jemma? Everyone knows Jemma.”
“I do not.”
“Lady Jemima Corsfield. Oh no, there is Mother looking for me. Must run, Fletcher.”
He dived behind a pillar, and set off at speed, leaving Will bemused. Lady Jemima Corsfield? Not Queen Bess, but at least an earl’s daughter. Interesting.
But he was not looking for Lady Jemima. He set off determinedly, scouring every corner of the room. There she was, sitting alone and rather forlorn on a sofa in a small alcove between two decorated trees.
“Eloise?”
She looked up at him warily. “Sir?”
