Her Grace in Disgrace (The Widows of Woburn Place) (18 page)

“Andrew,
you have been in a mood ever since you came into the title! Why are you acting
so?”

“I
have been acting as a Viscount, at least to my best ability. It would seem that
my former vocation suited me much better.”

“Being
a Viscount is not a vocation, it is a right of birth, an obligation,” lectured
Lady Saybrooke.

“It’s
a damned nuisance,” Saybrooke said to the open coach window.

“Andrew!”
admonished Lady Saybrooke.

“Beg
pardon, mama.”

“Are
you so unhappy?”

“It
matters not. I am striving to do my duty, to live up to Lionel’s legacy.”
Saybrooke looked at his mother, his eyes sincere.

“Lionel!
Do not strive to live up to him! If your brother had done his duty, there would
be a Lady Saybrooke, not to mention an heir and a spare. You would still be in
your study in Surrey, happily preparing your sermons!” said the Dowager
Viscountess with heat.

“Mama,
you know Lionel did not…could not…”faltered Saybrooke.

“I
know that Lionel’s tastes did not extend to ladies. There are such men, I
understand. It does not mean that he could not have done his duty. His anatomy
still worked, I gather.”

It
was Saybrooke’s turn to be shocked. “Mama!”

“Let
us speak no more of it. It cannot be undone. Whatever his peculiarities, he was
a fine man.”

“Indeed,
he was,” agreed Saybrooke with sadness.

“But,
the Saybrooke name must be carried on. This brings us back to Miss Hyde-Price.”
There was a determined set to Lady Saybrooke’s jaw.

Lord
Saybrooke groaned and looked frantically out the window. At least a dozen
carriages stood ahead of them, waiting to reach the entrance to Gilchrest
House. He turned toward Lady Saybrooke, the set of his jaw revealing his strong
resemblance to his mother.

“I
will do my duty, but I will not marry Miss Hyde-Price. Behind her cherubic
appearance lies a deceitful, selfish, grasping chit with scheming mind and a
heart of stone.”

“Really,
Andrew must you be so dramatic? She can hardly be as nasty as you paint her.
She is just out of the schoolroom.” Lady Saybrooke attempted a laugh to lighten
the mood. Lord Saybrooke’s mood did not lighten as only three more carriages
had advanced.

“She
is that and more. The only reason I have danced with her of late is that she
has an uncanny ability to sneak up on me unawares and remind me in front of
witnesses of a promised dance that I did not promise. As a gentleman, I cannot
refuse her the dance. One dance of an evening I can endure, but a life time of
being leg shackled to her would be insupportable. If I cannot marry for love, I
at least must have some affection, some respect for my spouse.”

Lady
Saybrooke was quiet for a moment. Saybrooke saw that two more carriages had
deposited their occupants and their own coach inched closer to the doors.
Finally his mother spoke. “Do you still love Isobel Kennilworth?”

Saybrooke’s
eyes grew stormy. “We are not speaking of Izzy, mama.”

“Answer
my question, Andrew.” Lady Saybrooke spoke in a deceptively mild tone, but the
determination showed in her eyes. Andrew sighed and told the truth.

“Yes.
I will always love Isobel.” He spoke with an overwhelming sadness.

“You
must know that she is not a proper wife for you now that you have become
Saybrooke. Especially after the scandal at Adelphi.”

Saybrooke’s
nostrils flared and he spoke through clenched teeth. “I will hear not a word
against Isobel Kennilworth, Mama. She has been unfairly treated and is more
worthy than any simpering chit with a large dowry and a spotless reputation.”

“Andrew,
you cannot think of marrying Isobel,” Lady Saybrooke gasped.

“No,
I cannot, for she will not have me.” Saybrooke saw with relief that they had
reached the front of the house. Before his mother could say another word, the
footman opened the door and Saybrooke alighted, gently helping his mother down
after him.

Sometime
later, Saybrooke returned another young miss to her doting mama. He knew he was
being hard on the young ladies assembled here. He had danced with a number of
quite lovely, kind, and amusing ladies, but they were not Isobel. Saybrooke
congratulated himself that he had avoided Miss Hyde-Price successfully so far.
He saw Finch across the room and went to greet him.

Lady
Joanna Temple had just finished dancing with Lord Pelton and was as cross as
crabs. He seemed not to notice her foul mood. Instead the attentive Lord Pelton
had offered to fetch her lemonade. She had refused, and excused herself,
claiming a small tear in the hem of her gown. Mary Parrish, just returning from
her dance with a Mr. Fenton, agreed to accompany her to the ladies retiring
room. Miss Parrish looked at Joanna’s gown appraisingly.

“Where
is the tear?” she asked.

“There
is no tear. I just needed to get away for a few moments.” Miss Parrish looked
at her friend with concern. Poor Joanna, she despised all of this flummery.

The
ladies’ retiring room was, in reality, two rooms. The first, an anteroom, had
several chairs and couches scattered about, the second was just beyond it
through a doorway and had a little more privacy with a few screens where ladies
could remove their gowns if they needed mending. The two friends entered the
retiring room in silence and heard the voice of Miss Hyde-Price coming from the
next room. It was clear that she was trying to speak in hushed tones, but her
mama was notoriously hard of hearing, and so her words were quite audible. “No,
Mama. You must wait for five minutes, and then come along. Too soon and I will
not have time to prepare. It must be done subtly.”

“Are
you sure about this, Lydia?” Mrs. Hyde-Price said in a worried voice.

Before
Miss Hyde-Price could answer, two more young ladies entered the anteroom
giggling, effectively drowning out the rest of Miss and Mrs. Hyde-Price’s
conversation. Lady Joanna looked at Miss Parrish and raised her eyebrows. Just
then the mother and daughter entered the anteroom and greeted Lady Joanna
briefly before exiting.

The
other two girls were engaged in gossip and paid no attention to Lady Joanna and
Miss Parrish. Lady Joanna turned to her friend. “I wonder what Miss Lydia
Hyde-Price is up to?”

“No
good, I imagine,” replied the usually sweet Miss Parrish in a knowing tone.

“I
think we should keep an eye on her,” suggested Lady Joanna.

Miss
Parrish nodded her head in agreement and they made their way back to the
ballroom.

If
Lady Joanna’s partners found her distracted as she danced, they made no mention
of it. If they noticed the object of her fixed attention, they would have been
surprised, but they did not. Nonetheless, Lady Joanna managed to keep Miss
Hyde-Price in her silver shot silk gown in sight at all times. As she danced
with Lord Stanhope, she watched as Miss Hyde-Price approached Lord Saybrooke,
who was chatting with a group of friends. She watched as Miss Hyde-Price said
something which made all of the gentlemen, save Lord Saybrooke, chuckle. The
other gentlemen bowed and left the couple to themselves. Saybrooke tried to
school his face into a passive mask, Joanna noted, but was failing miserably.
Miss Hyde-Price spoke again to Lord Saybrooke and he heaved a sigh, but offered
his arm and the two walked through the French doors that led out to the terrace
and garden.

Lady
Joanna searched for Miss Parrish, but she was also dancing. They exchanged a
knowing glance and Lady Joanna pretended to trip and claimed a twisted ankle.
Lord Stanhope graciously led her to a chair by the French doors as requested. The
dutiful young man returned with the requested lemonade only to find Lady Joanna
gone!

In
the garden, Lord Saybrooke was fuming. Miss Hyde-Price chattered away in a one
way conversation, trying to keep the Viscount moving further into the garden.

“I
believe we have gone far enough Miss Hyde-Price. It would not be proper to be
out of sight of the doors.” Lord Saybrooke said, his tone severe.

“Fustian!
You must not be so strait-laced My Lord. Who will see us?” prattled Miss
Hyde-Price good-naturedly.

“No
one, and that is quite the point.”

Miss
Hyde-Price conceded, but managed to maneuver Lord Saybrooke so that his back
was to the door. She carried on an absurd monologue for a moment longer; until
she saw her mother and Lady Tweed enter the garden. Suddenly she flung her arms
around Lord Saybrooke’s neck. The gentleman quite taken by surprise began to
protest, but before Mrs. Hyde-Price and her friend got too close, Lady Joanna
popped out from behind the shrubbery and grabbed Miss Hyde-Price’s left arm,
pulling it around her own shoulder.

Loudly
she said, “Oh, my dear Miss Hyde-Price, your poor ankle. Help me get her
inside, my Lord.”

Saybrooke,
first stunned, now grinning from ear to ear answered her. “Indeed, Lady Joanna,
we must get the injured young lady to a chair. I will gladly help you.”

By
this time, Mrs. Hyde-Price had reached her daughter and looked at the scene in
confusion. She gave her rehearsed speech, however, as planned. “What is going
on here?”

Lady
Joanna answered before Lydia Hyde-Price could speak. “Your daughter, Lord
Saybrooke, and I were walking in the garden and Miss Hyde-Price had the
misfortune to lose her footing and twist her ankle. I do not believe it is
serious, but we should have her ankle examined.”

Miss
Hyde-Price found her voice. “My ankle is fine!” Without further comment she
pulled away from Saybrooke and Lady Joanna and stomped back into the crowded
ballroom, closely followed by her baffled mother and a clueless Lady Tweed.

Lord
Saybrooke, extending his arm to Lady Joanna, looked at the girl with gratitude
and something closely resembling awe. “I don’t know how to thank you. The wily
chit almost caught me in the parson’s mousetrap. I owe you a great deal, Lady
Joanna. Ask anything, I will try to do it.”

“There
is one thing,” said Lady Joanna slyly, making Lord Saybrooke a bit discomfited.
“I would like you to give me Miss Kennilworth’s direction.”

Saybrooke
was relieved at the simple request. “Is that all? Why, anyone could give you
that?”

“Ah,
but no one will. I have ferretted out that it is on Woburn Place in Bloomsbury
and I have even gone there to watch for her, to no avail. I can now tell you a
number of houses where she does not live, but that leaves a host of others to choose
from. I even contemplated going from door to door, but soon gave up the idea.
So, will you help me?” Lady Joanna asked prettily.

“But,
how will you go to see her? Will your mama approve?”

“Certainly
not, Lord Saybrooke, but I have my ways, and remember you owe me,” returned
Lady Joanna a trifle sternly.

“I
will gladly give you the address with one provision,” countered Saybrooke.

“Name
it,” said Lady Joanna gamely.

“Report
back to me after your visit and tell me how she does.”

“Agreed,”
said Lady Joanna, extending her hand for a handshake.

Laughing,
Lord Saybrooke shook the minx’s hand and their deal struck, they continued into
the ballroom.

The
following afternoon, Isobel stood in the parlor staring out the window at
Woburn Place. Other than her treasured early morning rides in Regent’s Park
with Bella, Isobel had only attempted to venture past the four walls of her
house a handful of times since the house party at Adelphi. Twice she had gone
to Bond Street; once to replace threadbare gloves at the milliners and once to buy
a new perfume. On both occasions, she was given the cut direct by former
friends. On an outing to Hatchard’s on Piccadilly Street to replenish her
rapidly dwindling book supply, Lady Middleton had left the shop without her
books when Isobel entered. She did not fare much better in Green Park or at
Gunters. She was feeling decidedly sorry for herself when a crested coach drew
up outside her house and Lady Joanna and Miss Parrish alighted.

Renfrew,
a red-blooded young man, was speechless at the sight of two pretty young ladies
in their finery. So overcome was he that he led them into the parlor without
announcing them or relieving them of their lightweight wraps. After greeting
her guests, Isobel noted his negligence.

“Renfrew,
please take the ladies wraps.” Renfrew did not move. “Renfrew!”

“Yes,
Miss?” he asked, still dazed.

“Lady
Joanna’s spencer and Miss Parrish’s cape, if you please.” Renfrew reddened,
took the wraps and hastened to leave. “And Renfrew, please ask Mrs. Kitchen to
prepare tea.”

“Tea,
Miss?” he said stupidly.

“Yes,
Renfrew, tea. The beverage we partake of at least three times daily.”

“Of
course, Miss. Tea.” Renfrew quickly left the room, his face the shade of Lady
Joanna’s crimson pelisse.

“I
must confess to be surprised at your visit,” said Isobel uneasily.