Her Grace in Disgrace (The Widows of Woburn Place) (20 page)

Isobel
looked at him, perplexed. “Charles, are you quite all right? What would
changing the date accomplish?”

“What
if our beloved Reginald and his Spanish senorita were married, not in July of 1810,
but 1811?”

“They
would still be married, Charles…”Isobel began, but stopped when the idea struck
and looked at Charles with comprehension.

“Yes,
they would be married, but poor Reggie would be a bastard and ineligible to
inherit,” added Lord Charles unnecessarily.

“But
how? You cannot simply cross out the date and add a new one.”

“I
cannot, true. This is where my disreputable acquaintances come in. It is not a
simple plan, I admit it, but I believe it is possible, and right now my only
chance to outrun the Gullgropers. I rather like living in England and don’t
care to be forced to flee to the continent.” Lord Charles said with feeling.

“I
still cannot understand how it is to be done.”

“I
know of a forger who can copy the document perfectly, but with the later date,”
Lord Charles explained.

Isobel
made and effort not to show her shock. “And what of the records at the church
where they were married?”

“You
forget, I was just in Derbyshire. Quaint little church near Hidenwood. Not a
soul about, but the register was quite easy to put my hands on. Sadly, the
register is now missing a page.” He pulled out another sheet of paper, one side
with a jagged edge. Isobel saw Reginald’s and Adriana’s names and the date “the
tenth day of July, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and
eleven” among various births deaths and other nuptials of the parish.

“But
you were in Derbyshire long before you concocted this outrageous plan,”
countered Isobel.

“I
admit I was mulling around some ideas before going to Derbyshire. When I met
the cleric, who is ancient and has a hard time remembering his own name, I
realized that if I simply removed the pertinent leaf from the book, he would be
none the wiser. ”

Isobel
looked at her former brother-in-law, torn between admiration and distress. “And
so you will have a sudden urge to read the family Bible and produce the forged
marriage certificate. And become Duke. How nice for you. And what of me? It
does not change my intolerable situation.”

“You,
of course, shall be the Duchess of Warwick.” Lord Charles beamed at her. She
stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“Charles,
they were legally married…” Charles cut her off.

“My
duchess. We shall be married, Isobel, and we can resume our lives as they were
before, only better. I will be Duke and you will have a much nicer husband. We rub
along well, do we not? We shan’t get in each other’s way, but we can be
friends.” Lord Charles seemed quite pleased with himself. “Hell, you can even
take Westcott as a lover if you like.”

“I
do not like,” said Isobel shortly. “This is all so bizarre, Charles. This
deviousness is unlike you.”

“Fiend
seize it Isobel, I am at wit’s end,” his voice clearly desperate. “First my
hand and next my face. Who knows what is after that. I am doing this is for you
as well. You are clearly miserable.” Isobel raised her eyebrows, but decided
not to offer a rebuke since it was decidedly true.

“And
what of Lady Warwick and the boy?” she asked instead.

“I
felt badly about that at first. She’s not a bad sort, and the boy is quite
charming really, but then I realized that this would be better for them as
well.”

“And
how have you come to that unlikely conclusion?” Isobel was clearly unconvinced.

“When
I was at Wren House, she seemed so unhappy and lonely,” Lord Charles explained.

“She
has just lost her husband, Charles. It is common for widows to feel such
emotions,” Isobel retorted.

“Hear
me out, Isobel,” Lord Charles demanded. “When she spoke of this house and of
Hidenwood, she spoke with longing. She was happy here and in Derbyshire,
Isobel. I will give her both places and a healthy jointure. I am convinced that
she dislikes being the Duchess of Warwick as much as you dislike being plain
Miss Kennilworth.”

“Unfortunately,
that will make her son a bastard,” added Isobel.

“That
is unfortunate. But, he will have his own estate and a house in town, not to
mention a doting mama. And I will make sure the boy has an education. Really,
Isobel, I have thought about this and it is best for everyone. You will be able
to take your place in society again. Once you are duchess, the old tabbies will
be kissing your feet again.”

“As
long as I marry you,” Isobel amended.

“Is
that so bad? I have always been fond of you, Isobel,” pleaded Lord Charles.

“Very
little could be worse than being married to Reginald.”

“High
praise indeed,” Lord Charles said with a wry smile. “We need not post the bans
today, my dear, but please do think about it. ”Lord Charles rose, preparatory
to taking his leave. “Tomorrow I will venture into the bowels of the Rookery to
find my forger,” said Charles with enthusiasm.

“You
act as if you are going to a horse race at Richmond.” Isobel’s eyes were etched
with worry.

“Never
fear, my dear Isobel, I am a canny fellow, though I know I don’t look it.” He
looked at Isobel with pleading eyes. “Please say you will consider my proposal.”
Isobel observed the pleasant young man and allowed a smile to erase her
concerned expression. After all, his proposal was much more appealing than the
last. At least this one was for marriage.

“I
will consider your proposal.”

“And
you promise you will not accept another offer from your many beaux until this
has been settled?” Lord Charles teased.

This
was one promise she could keep, thought Isobel. There were no beaux and there
would be no proposals, thanks to Reginald and Lord Westcott. “Though they are
lined up at the door offering for me, I promise.”

Lord
Charles smiled, kissed Isobel’s hand, and took his leave. Isobel watched him go
with an overwhelming sense of dread.

Despite
Lord Charles’ optimism and her own desire to have her old life restored to her,
Isobel passed a sleepless night. She battled with her conscience, with her fears
and with her desires. At dawn, she succumbed to a fitful sleep, only to be
awakened by Manning a few hours later carrying a vase filled with purple and
white irises.

“These
flowers came for you quite early, Miss.” She placed the flowers on Isobel’s
bedside table, removing the attached card and handing it to Isobel. “Do you
want to breakfast in your room, Miss?”

“Is
Lady Whitcomb about?” asked a preoccupied Isobel as she stared at the envelope.
It was written in Saybrooke’s hand.

“No,
Miss, she is breakfasting in her room and does not want to be disturbed,”
Manning informed her.

“Then
I will have some chocolate and a muffin in here.”

“Will
you be riding as usual, Miss?” asked Manning as she reached for the riding
habit.

“Not
this morning, Manning. I did not sleep well. I shall dress after I break my
fast.”

“Very
good, Miss.” As soon as Manning left, Isobel ripped open the envelope without
the benefit of a letter opener.

My
Dear Izzy,

“
And why beholdest thou the mote that is in
thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?” The
Gospel according to St. Matthew, chapter 7, verse 3

I will call this afternoon. Please do not bar the
door to me.

Ever Yours,

Drew

*****

Isobel heard
the knocker and Renfrew’s greeting, the voice of the visitor however was
muffled. It would be Saybrooke. She still had not decided whether to admit him.
His presence did strange things to her, robbed her of her hard won self-possession.

She sat on
the couch, hands in her lap, as Renfrew entered and announced, “Lady Doncaster
to see you, Miss.”

Lady Doncaster?
Good heavens, thought Isobel. This was certainly not expected, nor welcomed.
She
must have found out about Lady Joanna’s visit and has come to ring a peal over
my head,
Isobel conjectured to herself. She took a deep breath and said,
“Send her in, Renfrew.”

Isobel stood
as Lady Doncaster entered, and it was difficult to say which lady was more discomfited.

“Lady Doncaster,
you are very welcome,” Isobel said politely.

“I thank
you, Miss Kennilworth. I hope I have not disturbed you unduly,” returned Lady Doncaster
equally politely.

“Not at all.
Please have a seat, My Lady. I shall send for tea.” She looked at Renfrew, who
bowed and exited in a most dignified manner. Would wonders never cease!

Lady Doncaster
sat rigidly in the old, but lovely Chippendale chair and fidgeted with her
reticule. She was a very introverted lady, the complete opposite of her
daughter. Isobel decided to put her out of her misery.

“I can
surmise why you have come. My only defense is that I did not invite Lady Joanna
to come, but was quite taken aback by her call. Nonetheless, I fully realize
that I should have sent her away the minute she and Miss Parrish entered. And
apart from that, I should have written to inform you of their visit. I can only
apologize to you, Lady Doncaster, and assure you that I will do so if they call
again.”

Lady Doncaster
stared in surprise at Isobel, her mouth open, for a full ten seconds before she
reclaimed her poise. “You mistake my purpose in coming, Miss Kennilworth. I am here
to thank you for befriending the hoyden, dear to me though she is, and am
coming to beg you to continue the acquaintance.”

A sparrow’s
feather could have knocked Isobel over after Lady Doncaster’s startling
admission. It was Isobel’s turn to gape at Lady Doncaster in disbelief. She
stumbled into speech.

“But surely,
my reputation…” began Isobel feebly.

“I am not
saying that we shall announce to the
ton
that these visits take place,
you understand,” Lady Doncaster said with a slight smile. She paused for a
moment, considering what to say. “Miss Kennilworth, I am not a brave woman and
I have not the fortitude, or perhaps foolhardiness, that Joanna has for
flinging society’s strictures out the window when it suits her. But, you have
been unfairly treated and I have no objection to her associating with you.”

“But if she
is found out she will be ruined,” protested Isobel.

“My daughter
is fair on the way to ruining herself, Miss Kennilworth. And as to being found
out, I have no fears on that score.”

“But you
have found her out,” Isobel said, still puzzled by this woman.

Lady Doncaster
gave Isobel a startlingly crafty grin. “What Joanna does not know is that the
brandy that John Coachman allegedly steals is in reality a bribe from me to
keep me appraised of her movements. I have found that I need to be quite
cunning to keep up with my minx of a daughter.”

Isobel could
not hold back a laugh. “I commend you, Lady Doncaster. I did not think any
mother capable of outfoxing such a clever little baggage.”

“Oh, I do
not deceive myself that I have outfoxed her yet. I will not be able to relax
until she is safely wed.” Lady Doncaster’s amusement faded and she looked every
bit of the forty years she had to her credit.

A quiet
knock sounded at the door and Renfrew entered with the tea, his bearing almost
regal. Evidently today he had chosen to play the role of the stodgy, faithful
old retainer, though he was barely thirty. Tea was dispensed in comfortable
silence. A fragile rapport had been established and the two women no longer
looked poised to bolt.

“I still do
not understand why you promote my friendship with your daughter, Lady Doncaster.”
Isobel had relaxed for a moment in their shared mirth, but she sobered as she
pondered this peculiar visit.

Again Lady Doncaster
did not rush into speech, but looked thoughtfully at her full teacup before she
answered. “Lord Pelton has asked to pay his addresses. I am convinced he loves Joanna,
but she will have none of him. She babbles on about him treating her like an amusing
child and not respecting her as a woman or some such nonsense.” Lady Doncaster
paused again and took a sip of lukewarm tea. “She is in a fair way of making
every other eligible bachelor hold her in disgust. If Lord Pelton finds her
antics amusing, I cannot but hold out hope for the match.” Lady Doncaster took
quick breath and hastened to add, “I would not force her to marry, Miss
Kennilworth, but he is a kindly man and he truly seems to care for her. I only
want to see her happily settled.”

“So you
would have me promote Lord Pelton’s suit to Lady Joanna.” Lady Doncaster nodded
and remained silent, a faint rosy color staining her cheeks. Isobel smiled at
the discomfited woman. “You underestimate your bravery, Lady Doncaster. Your
daughter is far more like you than you care to admit,” Isobel commented, taking
any offense out of the words with a sweet smile and twinkling eyes. “But I fear
you overestimate my influence on Lady Joanna. I could laud Lord Pelton’s
praises to the skies and Lady Joanna would not change her mind.”