Her Grace in Disgrace (The Widows of Woburn Place) (19 page)

“Are
you?” cried Lady Joanna, completely at ease. “I distinctly remember making
plans to visit, don’t you Mary?”

“Yes,
of course, but that was before,” Isobel stated vaguely.

“Before
what?” Lady Joanna asked feigning ignorance.

“You
well know what, you little minx.” Isobel could not help smile at this
imperturbable girl.

“Oh,
if you mean that nonsense with Westcott, no one blames you.”

“Do
not try and gammon me. I know that everyone blames me. According to the
ton
,
the gentleman is always guiltless.”

“Well,
I for one do not subscribe to that point of view. Do you, Mary?” Lady Joanna
asked her young friend.

“No,
I do not,” said the vicar’s daughter.

“While
that is all well and good, I highly doubt that, your mother, Lady Doncaster is
in accord with you. She will be livid when she finds you have come here,”
insisted Isobel.

“She
will never know, Miss Kennilworth.”

Isobel
stared at Lady Joanna, amazed at her nonchalance. “You came in your parents’
coach, Lady Joanna, with a coachman and footman. You cannot think that they
will not tell.”

“Oh,
I do not think it. I know it,” said Lady Joanna in all seriousness. “You see,
John, our coachman has been pilfering Papa’s brandy and I am blackmailing him.
If he tells Mama, he will be found out.”

Isobel
was in awe of the complete composure with which Lady Joanna admitted to
blackmailing her coachman. “And the footman?”

Miss
Parrish, mostly silent until now, giggled. “Oh, he fancies himself in love with
Joanna.”

Joanna
had the grace to blush. “It is true.”

“Please
do not tell me that you are considering running off with the footman!” declared
Isobel with concern.

“Oh,
no, Miss Kennilworth. For though he is exceedingly pleasing to look at, as most
footmen are, he has absolutely no conversation,” said Joanna with disgust.

“Are
you saying you would consider it if he was a lively conversationalist?” asked
Isobel in amazement.

“Perhaps,
but since he is not, it is neither here nor there,” the young lady pronounced
with finality.

The
tea arrived at that moment and Renfrew managed to carry in the tray without
spilling a drop, despite the fact that his eyes continually strayed to the
young female visitors. Isobel quickly rid herself of the moonstruck butler and
poured the tea.

“Since
you are here and are sure you will not be found out, we might as well enjoy a
good gossip. Tell me of all the
ton
doings and leave nothing out.”

The
door opened to the parlor and Lady Whitcomb entered. “Isobel,” she began, and
stopped when she took in that there were visitors.

“Aunt
Maude, allow me to introduce Lady Joanna Temple and Miss Mary Parrish. Ladies,
my Aunt, Lady Whitcomb.”

Lady
Whitcomb looked at Lady Joanna and cocked her round little head to the side. “You
are the Earl of Doncaster’s eldest, are you not?”

“His
eldest daughter. I have a brother, James, Viscount Montrose, the ‘heir’ ”. The
last she said with disdain. “I also have two sisters who are still in the
schoolroom.”

“I
know your mother slightly, though she is a good bit younger than I. I hate to
spoil the prospect of such a lively visit with two young ladies, but would she
approve of your being here, my dear?”

And
so, the story of Lady Joanna’s cunning and conquest had to be retold. Lady
Maude squealed with joy. “My dear Lady Joanna, you are so like Isobel that I
know that I shall like you very well. And you, too, Miss Parrish, for your good
taste in friends.”

“Am
I truly like Miss Kennilworth?” asked Lady Joanna hopefully.

“Indeed
you are, and I have many a story to prove it,” Lady Whitcomb said with glee.

“Aunt!
You must not tell stories; Lady Joanna is wild enough without giving her
further ideas,” protested Isobel. But her aunt, of course, ignored her.

And
so the better part of an hour was whiled away in the telling of Isobel’s many
misdeeds and fixes, all of which Isobel dearly wished would remain untold. Once
that subject had been exhausted the younger ladies regaled the tenants of 65
Woburn place with all of the
on dits
of the Beau Monde, including
Saybrooke’s near miss with Miss Hyde-Price.

“You
brazen baggage!” declared Isobel, full of admiration despite her words.

“She
saved him,” added Miss Parrish unnecessarily.

“I
wanted him to be free to marry his choice, not to be gulled by that harpy, Miss
Hyde-Price,” she looked at Isobel pointedly. Isobel colored and changed the
subject.

“And
what about your beaux, Lady Joanna? Miss Parrish?” asked Isobel with interest.

“Mary
has captivated Captain Danvers,” Lady Joanna teased, proud of her clever word
play.

Miss
Parrish, not to be outdone said, “And Joanna has landed Lord Pelton.”

Lady
Joanna frowned at her friend. “That is not nearly so clever and it is also not
true,” she asserted acidly.

“Fustian.
He is smitten with you!” cried Miss Parrish.

“He
is amused by me. He claims I am a clever little minx and he finds me enormously
entertaining. ‘Such a charming child’ ”, mimicked Lady Joanna, sounding a good
bit like Lord Pelton. “He also says I am beautiful.” With this she rolled her
eyes.

Mary
elaborated by way of explanation. “She does not believe she is beautiful.”

“Because
I am not,” said Lady Joanna bluntly.

“Do
not be a widgeon, Lady Joanna. Considering how little effort you put into your
appearance, you are quite stunning,” contradicted Isobel.

Lady
Joanna blushed at the compliment and rushed into speech to cover her
embarrassment. “It is true I dislike fussing over my appearance. My maid has
given notice three times since we have come to London, but Mama always talks
her round.”

“I
think Lord Pelton truly cares for you, Joanna,” Miss Parrish affirmed.

“Well,
I do not believe it,” Lady Joanna said with passion. She looked at Lady
Whitcomb pleadingly. “You understand, do you not, Lady Whitcomb. Miss
Kennilworth tells me that you believe that romantic relationships should be
based on love and mutual respect. Is that not so?”

“Indeed
it is, Lady Joanna. It seems to me that Lord Pelton’s interest in you is
superficial,” pronounced Lady Whitcomb.

“Do
not encourage her, Aunt Maude,” hissed Isobel.

“It
is become late, Joanna. We should go. We still need to stop off at the
circulating library to get books as we told your Mama we would do,” Miss
Parrish said practically.

Before
they could take their leave, Renfrew entered again, having regained a bit of
his dignity, what little he possessed, and announced: “Lord Charles Aiken”.

Lord
Charles entered and was taken aback to see two young ladies in addition to the
two ladies he had expected to see. Hasty introductions were made and Charles,
though polite, seemed uninterested in Isobel’s guests. Miss Parrish reiterated
their necessity of a prompt departure, which they did with embraces all around,
except for Lord Charles, of course, and promises to come again.

Once
the younger ladies had departed, Isobel sent Renfrew to refresh the tea tray
and Lady Whitcomb begged herself to be excused, claiming a deadline she needed
to make. Lord Charles gladly released her, for it was Isobel he wanted to see.

“Charles,”
said Isobel, taking his hands in hers. “I thought you had abandoned me.”

“Of
course not, Isobel. I have been to Hidenwood.”

“Indeed?”
asked Isobel in surprise. “How did you find it?”

“It
is well enough in its own way. The house is smallish, nothing on the scale of
Warwick Park. There is a lot of land, but only a minor portion of it has been
cultivated. Reginald was not in need of the money, so he kept the estate on a
small scale. There are a handful of tenants who seem to be prosperous enough,
but it would be years before Hidenwood could produce a decent income.”

Isobel’s
surprise grew. “And this is your learned assessment? Have you been hiding your
agrarian talents behind the façade of a dandy?”

Lord
Charles laughed and peeked under the lapels of his dark blue superfine frockcoat.
“Alas, there is no farmer lurking here. I brought Trevelyan with me. He inherited
five years ago and has almost doubled his income on two of his three estates;
the third he has nearly tripled. The man is a genius and was kind enough to
advise me.”

“Well,
Charles, I must say I am all agog at this news. I also freely admit that I am
proud of you for accepting the sad turn of events and making the most of your
predicament.”

“Isobel,
I fear you are being too hasty with your lavish praise or you did not hear me
aright. It would take years to realize anything close to the kind of income I
would have had as Reginald’s heir.”

“What
are you saying?” asked Isobel, suddenly wary.

“I
am saying that I don’t have years to waste playing at gentleman farmer. The
truth of it is, I am pockets to let and now that it is known that I am not
Reginald’s heir, the moneylenders are swooping down like birds of prey.” He
waved his bandaged hand at Isobel. Gone was the joviality that usually defined
Lord Charles Aiken. He was deadly serious.

“Oh,
dear. I hope you have not come to ask me for money. I am hardly in a position
to help you.”

“I
am well aware of your relative penury. That is not why I am here,” Lord Charles
assured her as he reached inside his frock coat pocket and extracted a piece of
folded parchment.

Renfrew
arrived with tea and Lord Charles eyed the teapot with disdain. “Renfrew,
please bring the brandy and a glass for his lordship,” ordered Isobel and
Charles grinned his gratitude. They spoke of trifling matters until Renfrew
returned and then left again. Charles took a deep draught of the brandy.

“Have
you approached the new Duchess about this coil of yours?” Isobel asked.

“I
have. She turned me down flat.” Isobel seemed surprised by this and Lord
Charles continued. “It seems she promised Reginald on his deathbed that she
would not pull me out of the River Tick. Not so much as a sou,” grumbled Lord
Charles.

“I
see,” Isobel said, though she did not truly understand why Charles had come.It
was obvious that he had not simply come to call.

“But
I have found a solution!” he told her eagerly.

“You
will marry an heiress? Tell me, does she have protruding teeth and ears like
butterfly wings?” joked Isobel.

“I
have little hope of marrying an heiress. My lack of prospects is well known by
all, and any wise parent would keep their virginal daughter well away from me.
And, frankly I would prefer to marry a more mature woman, not a whey faced chit
fresh from the schoolroom.”

“Beggars
cannot be choosers, as I well know,” bemoaned Isobel.

“I
have a much better plan that would help us both to reclaim what is rightfully
ours.” Charles stood and walked the few steps to stand before Isobel. He handed
her the parchment. Isobel placed her teacup on the table at her side and took
the paper from him. It took but a moment for her to realize that it was
Reginald’s and Adriana’s marriage lines. Charles sat next to her on the couch.

Isobel
looked at the document with a puzzled expression. “I thought we were already
convinced of the legality of their marriage.”

“Oh,
yes,” Lord Charles offered cryptically. “It is very legal.”

“Are
you thinking to destroy it, for Mr. Pickens has already seen it and documented
it.” Isobel remained wary and confused.

“You
are correct. I have considered that and discarded it.”

Isobel
suddenly became impatient. “Must I continue guessing or will you tell me?”

Lord
Charles’ face alit with amusement and excitement. “You know I have not led a
blameless life. I have within my acquaintance a number of unsavory types.”

“Charles!”
barked Isobel her impatience growing.

“Patience!”
he said with a grin. “If I am to explain you must allow me to do it properly.”

Isobel
handed the paper back to Lord Charles and reclaimed her teacup. “I am
listening.”

“I
had very briefly considered murder…”

“Charles!”

“After
Adriana had refused to help me, I was livid and I tried to harden my heart.
But, I had met the boy that day and of course, I could not do it. The next day
I returned to Wren House through the kitchen.” Isobel smiled, knowing Charles’
habit and Mrs. Bromfield’s preference for the youngest Aiken. “I went to the library
searching for this paper. At that time, as I told you, it was my intention to
disprove the marriage. But, slow top though I may be, I realized it would not
fly. It was then that it came to me. One need simply change the dates!” Lord
Charles said this with a flourish.