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Authors: Joan Smith

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BOOK: Madcap Miss
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The water came in two large tumblers. They sipped tentatively. Grace wrinkled her nose and set the glass aside.

I thought warm milk, just on the verge of turning, was the worst brew ever invented. I was mistaken. I have no opinion of Queen Henrietta Maria

s palate, I can tell you.


This has got to be good for you, it tastes so awful,

Whewett said, and drank a little more while Grace observed the patrons.

Have you picked out your prey?

he asked.


I am undecided between the gentleman with the red nose and gray bagwig, and the little dandy who is ogling me through his quizzing glass. The bagwig is older and would stick his fork in the wall soon, leaving me a rich widow. I fear he is a drunkard, however, and might prove troublesome. The dandy is more elegant. He would be a tame pet, too. Which do you recommend?

Before he replied, an aging female of formidable proportions advanced on the gentleman with the bagwig and sat beside him.

Now we know why the poor soul drinks,

Whewett said.

Your choice is made for you, unless you wish to engage in maneuvers with that battleship that just hoved into view.


I know when I am outclassed. It will be the dandy.


You

ll have easy pickings. He can

t keep his eyes off you. I believe women really
do
come here to pick up a patron.


It is a husband I am on the catch for, not a patron. Don

t hand me over without some haggling, Papa. Hold out for a handsome settlement. What sum do you feel we should ask, keeping in mind my elegant new bonnet?


Some things are beyond price.


True, and some men are so sly they can wiggle out of anything.

When he made no answer, Grace looked to see what had caught Whewett

s interest.

If you tell me Mrs. Sempleton just walked in that door, I shall crawl right under the table. Is it her?


No, worse.

Before he could explain, a young gentleman advanced toward them, smiling broadly.

Alfred, old bean,

he exclaimed.

Here

s a surprise.


Townsend, nice to see you,

Whewett replied, with ill-simulated delight.


What the deuce brings you to this godforsaken dump?

Grace examined the fashionable gentleman; he was in his late twenties or thereabouts. He was not handsome but gave some illusion of good looks despite thin cheeks and a weak mouth. He was a tulip of fashion in a well-cut jacket of blue Bath cloth, an elaborately-tied cravat, and a pink flowered waistcoat. A quizzing glass was just being raised to his pale eye, to have a closer scrutiny of herself, she feared.


Just passing through,

Whewett answered vaguely.

This uninformative reply passed, as Townsend

s whole interest had settled on Grace. He was trying to figure out whether she was a lightskirt and he had caught Cousin Alfred out in an indiscretion, or whether she was a respectable lady. The suit said lady, but the bonnet caused doubts.


What brings you here?

Whewett asked.


Mama is having her annual dose of the waters. I got stuck to bring her. Papa cleverly takes to his bed to avoid it. It is a yearly event.

Townsend returned his gaze to Grace. "I don

t believe I have the pleasure of the young lady

s acquaintance.

The eye that turned briefly to Whewett was alive with curiosity. There was mischief too

a look that accused and congratulated and laughed all at one time.

Whewett began rapidly canvassing his few options.

Miss Farnsworth, may I present my cousin, Mr. Townsend.


How do you do?

she said, blushing up to her eyes and giving Townsend the idea he had caught Alfred dead to rights.


Miss Farnsworth,

Townsend repeated, making the words a request for more information.


Of the Exeter Farnsworths,

Whewett added, choosing a district quite at random.


Ah, the Exeter Farnsworths. Related to us?

Townsend asked, continuing his scrutiny of Grace.


Connected to myself, on my wife

s side,

Whewett said.


I see.

Townsend nodded, not seeing at all, and suspecting he was being fobbed off.

Mind if I join you?

he asked, and pulled out a chair before they could object.

Meeting Townsend was bad; knowing his mother, the redoubtable busybody, was in the vicinity was worse.

Actually we are just leaving,

Whewett said, rising up on the instant.

Townsend was grinning from ear to ear.

You

ve hardly touched your water,

he pointed out.


Wretched stuff. Miss Farnsworth, shall we go?


No need to rush off,

Townsend said.

Since we are all here at Tunbridge Wells, let us arrange to get together. Lunch, perhaps? Mama is coming along any minute. She will want to meet Irene

s

cousin, is it?


Niece,

Whewett said, wildly, before he remembered that Irene had neither brother nor sister. And if Townsend didn

t know it yet, his mother certainly did.

We are due to meet Miss Farnsworth

s companion in moments. We must dash. Nice seeing you, Townsend. Please give my respects to your mother.

Townsend placed a detaining hand on his cousin

s arm.

Before you dart off, old chap, Mama will want to know what you are doing here. You know how women like all the details.


We are on our way to Wickfield, to see Lady Healy.


Are you indeed? I had no idea she was in England. I suppose it is old John Brougham

s death that has brought her. Anything in it for your Augusta?


Lady Healy inherited the estate. It will be Augusta

s one day. It is why I am on my way to Willowcrest now.


Very wise. Have to butter up the old ones. How does it come Miss Farnsworth travels with you?

Whewett hesitated an incriminating moment before he could think of a single thing to say. Grace spoke up.

I am going to see Lady Healy, too. With so many questions, you have lost track of the answers, Mr. Townsend. I am related to Lady Healy, too.

He considered this, then asked baldly,

Where do you live?


Here, in Tunbridge Wells,

Whewett said hastily.

It is why I have come a little out of my way from Dover, to pick up Miss Farnsworth.


I thought you said she was one of the Exeter Farnsworths,

Townsend said, his smile growing broader as they sank deeper into mire.


I moved,

Grace said.

I live here with my cousin now, Miss Thomas. We really must go and pick her up, Lord Whewett.


Mama will be here any moment. Sure you can

t--


No,

Whewett said, and taking Grace

s arm, he fled out into the street, looking sharply about for Mrs. Townsend. She was nowhere in sight. They walked along at a rapid pace, though they had no destination in mind.


Just how badly disgraced are we?

Grace asked, after they had hurriedly turned a corner off the main street.


There is no disgrace at all. Merely I am sorry to have subjected you to an inquisition by Townsend and determined his arch-quiz of a mother shan

t get at you.


She has trained her son well. He didn

t leave out any questions, did he? He didn

t believe a word of it, you know. Why did you tell him my name? He takes me for a lightskirt, and it is the best thing for him to think, too, but I wish you had called me Miss Jones.


Don

t be foolish. Why should he think anything of the sort?


As he seems well-acquainted with you, I thought perhaps he knew of your affair with Doll, and likely others as well,

she replied sharply.

Whewett took her elbow and resumed walking at a less harried gait.

Never mind putting it in my dish, miss. It was your rolling eyes at the bigwig and the dandy that gave him the notion you aren

t quite the thing.


Is he stupid enough to think I would be making up to them when I had attached such a distinguished patron as Lord Whewett? He must take me for a moonling.

Whewett turned a rueful eye on his companion. 

I come to realize the full odium of comparisons. Am I
really
a notch above the bigwig?

Grace gave it careful consideration and said,

Yes, Whewett, and I think you might even be a notch above the dandy.

His chagrin restored her humor, and they continued their walk.

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

Whewett and Grace proceeded without encountering Mrs. Townsend. They were surprised to come upon a rocky, wooded area in its natural state in the midst of a bustling town.

I don

t remember seeing this when I was here with Papa,

Grace exclaimed.


With luck you may find a duck pond to fall into.


You could hold my head under while pretending to rescue me. I know you would like to strangle me, but it is in no way
my
fault that your cousin chanced along. Look, Whewett, benches. What a pity we did not bring a picnic lunch.


I wondered how long we could go without your turning into a ravenous beast.


I can hold off another hour. Let us look around.

There was a plaque posted.

Wouldn

t you know it, Queen Henrietta Maria again. She camped here for six weeks in 1630.

Grace looked around at the not very magnificent surroundings.

One would think a queen could do better for herself. Commandeer a castle or inn. I daresay the town has encroached on her camping ground in the past couple of hundred years.

They strolled through the park, where sundry elderly people sat on benches, taking the sun or shade as struck their whim.

This is nice,

Grace said.

If I save all my pennies, I can retire to this place when my working days are over.

The bucolic surroundings put Whewett in a languorous mood.

Have you given up on marrying a widower?

he asked idly.


I have, and on a theatrical career as well. You were right. I didn

t care for the way your cousin Townsend leered at me. I don

t think I should like being a painted woman.

Whewett glanced down at her, wearing an enigmatic, small smile.

That is no reason you should give up entirely on your plan of marrying a widower,

he said.

She noticed he did not say a gouty old widower, as they usually described her fictitious groom. It even darted into Grace

s head that it was himself Whewett meant. Some air of consciousness about him suggested it, the way he looked at her so intently. The idea was so preposterous that she soon brushed it away.


Let

s walk that way,

she said, pointing to the left.

We can climb over those rocks and see what is on the other side.

Whewett went along in unimpaired humor, enjoying the outing. He usually strove to avoid gossip. Since that episode shortly after his wife

s death when he had had the whole family in an uproar over Doll, he had lived a thoroughly respectable life. But today he didn

t really care if anyone should see him and catch him out in an escapade. He half regretted missing Mrs. Townsend. He needed some excitement. He had grown dull living in the country.


King of the castle,

Grace announced, when they had reached the summit.

We can survey our domain from here. How very like my Miss Thomas that lady looks,

she mentioned, pointing out a woman in a sun hat, knitting as she sat, occasionally looking at the scenery.

BOOK: Madcap Miss
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