“But last time he was set up.”
“Perhaps, though the implications were correct.” She snorted inelegantly. “Crossbridge applies different standards to himself than to others. Despite pretending to be a strict judge of propriety, his own behavior is appallingly lax. And his judgment is worse.”
“Quite true, alas,” said Lady Beatrice. “I have never liked his self-righteousness.”
“But what did he do now?” demanded Lady Stafford, who had arrived during the laughter.
Lady Horseley straightened, adopting a censorious tone. “As he had promised last evening, he brought me his copy of the
Botanical Magazine
, which contained a colored plate of the bee orchis. They are becoming quite rare.”
“Not wildflowers!” gasped Lady Stafford, a hand to her throat. “How decadent! What
is
the world coming to?”
“Really, Penelope,” hissed Lady Hartford. “You are doing it much too brown.” But her face was alight with laughter.
Lady Beatrice’s eyes gleamed.
“The magazine was perfectly innocuous, as you well know.” Lady Horseley glared. “But when he tripped on entering my drawing room, he dropped it, allowing a print to flutter out – a most shocking print.”
“Not one of
those!
” Lady Stafford widened her eyes.
“Exactly.”
“Appalling,” agreed Lady Debenham. “How can so arrogant a prig justify having such a thing?”
“The poor man must have been terribly embarrassed,” said Lady Hartford.”
“He turned red as Captain Harrington’s uniform coat,” confirmed Lady Horseley. “Claimed he’d never seen the cursed thing before, then accused Ellisham of tripping him to perpetrate another of Lord Sedgewick’s pranks.”
“Lord Sedgewick has made him a laughingstock more than once,” Lady Debenham reminded her.
“But never without cause,” said Lady Beatrice, a smile twitching the corners of her mouth.
“What will Crossbridge do now?” asked Lady Hartford. “Will he accost Lord Sedgewick at the Harwood ball tonight?”
“They might not be there,” said Lady Beatrice. “Vauxhall’s opening gala is tonight. We all know how Lord Sedgewick loves the gardens.” Her smile more closely resembled a sneer.
“As does Crossbridge.”
More knowing glances were exchanged.
Joanna ignored the subsequent chatter. Crossbridge’s activities did not interest her. She did not even care that Lord Sedgewick, arbiter of fashion and manners, indulged in juvenile pranks.
Reggie was back. At last.
* * * *
“We missed you, Reggie.” Joanna smiled broadly when he joined her that evening. “I trust you encountered no trouble.”
“Not at all. My father merely read me a new lecture on duty and responsibility.” Anger flared briefly in his eyes, but mellowed into a warm smile. “You look enchanting.”
“Fustian, Reggie. Don’t waste your breath on flattery. I need your help.”
He frowned. “Surely Sedge is not annoying you.”
“The other way around, I fear.” She blushed at the reminder of the lemonade episode. But Lord Sedgewick was watching her, so she refrained from explaining. This was not the ideal place to talk, but she must broach the subject before his brother spirited him away for another week. “Lord Wicksfield charged me with screening Harriet’s suitors, but I know little beyond their public faces and fear that they may be hiding truths that would make them unsuitable.”
“Such as?”
“If I knew that, I would not be asking.”
“Forgive me for teasing. You are right that many facts are known only by other gentlemen. What do you look for in a suitor?”
“Lord Wicksfield is naturally concerned with family background and financial stability. But beyond that, I must find someone who will care for Harriet. Her ephemeral appearance is misleading, for she is not physically frail, but she
is
emotionally fragile. She needs a husband who can handle her megrims.”
“I see.” He drew her nearer the wall, lowering his voice. “Who is seriously courting her?”
“I know Almont means to make an offer. I’ve put him off in hopes of seeing you first. He strikes me as insincere.”
“Astute of you. Almont needs to settle his succession – he recently had a falling-out with his brother, who is next in line. But he wants only an heir. He will invest no time or emotion in his wife, for his heart belongs to his mistress and their four children.”
“Good heavens.”
“He will offer Harriet his name, a large allowance, and the freedom to pursue her own interests once an heir is born. But that is all she can expect.”
“She needs more – support during hysteria, tolerance for her mistakes, genuine affection.”
“She won’t get that from Almont. Who else might offer?”
“I am not sure. Lord Penleigh has been growing more particular.”
“Good Lord. He’s older than I am.” He frowned. “His primary need is for a hostess. But he would expect her to arrange everything without help, whether for social occasions or political gatherings.”
“I did not know he was active in politics.”
“He is very involved in Parliament, and becoming more so each year. His mother currently serves as his hostess, but she is getting older. He wishes to lessen her burden, but she strikes me as a lady who will cling to control until the day she dies – which could easily be twenty years or more; she is stubborn beyond belief.”
She understood his hints. Penleigh would not care which woman ran his household. He lacked both the patience and the interest to train a wife or support her against his mother. Harriet would likely become Lady Penleigh’s companion. “What about Mr. Parkington?”
“I doubt he is serious. He attaches himself to every new diamond, but he has yet to offer for anyone. His principal interest is horses. And since he has no title, I doubt he will wed without love.”
“Which he shows no signs of feeling.” And just as well. Harriet was terrified of riding. She would hardly enjoy a husband devoted to horses. No wonder she was cooler toward him than her other suitors. “What can you tell me of Mr. Stoverson?”
“Not much. He rarely visits the clubs. I’ve heard little against him, but I can ask. I believe we have mutual friends.”
“And Mr. Wethersby?”
He sighed. “Like Stoverson, he is ten years my junior and moves in different circles.”
“Can you find out his exact financial position? Harriet may have formed a
tendre
for him, but I doubt Lord Wicksfield will approve.”
He met her eyes. “There is more to this than you are saying. What do you really wish to know?”
She glanced nervously at the crowd. “Call tomorrow morning, and I will tell you the whole story. This is not a propitious time.”
“That sounds ominous.” He frowned.
“Merely circumspect. London is too fond of gossip. But what do you know of Mr. Reynolds and Lord George Sterne?”
He sighed. “When did they join her court?”
“The day you left.”
“Dear Lord, I feel old. Reynolds is barely out of school, but he might be well suited. He is wealthy in his own right, is heir to the Earl of Bounty, and has close ties to the Marchioness of Woodvale.”
“You sound uncertain, though. Is it only his age?”
“His father is venal. Not that it should matter. Reynolds refuses to go near the man. But the lad is very intelligent, so I must question whether he and Lady Harriet would really suit.”
“I see. He would soon grow tired of her limited understanding.”
“Or he might not. It would depend on how attached he is. As for Lord George, I find the man tedious beyond belief. We disagree on nearly everything. Since I avoid him, I cannot say whether he would suit. But Sedge would know. He keeps track of everyone.”
“Do I?”
Joanna was hardly surprised that Lord Sedgewick had joined them, for she’d felt his eyes from the moment Reggie had arrived. But she blushed, wondering how much he’d heard. Despite his unexpected reticence over yesterday’s clash, she didn’t trust him to keep a secret. The man was too fond of gossip.
“Joanna was asking about Lord George Sterne. Would he make a convenable wife for Lady Harriet?”
Sedge raised his quizzing glass toward Harriet’s set, pursing his lips as he examined her. “I shouldn’t think so. He is a fastidious prig, while she seems rather flighty.”
“So I feared.” Joanna sighed, too concerned over Harriet’s problems to feel nervous tonight. Success was looking grimmer every day. At the moment, Mr. Reynolds seemed the best choice, but she wasn’t even sure he was serious, let alone what Harriet thought.
Lord Sedgewick turned to his brother. “Crossbridge has decided that you were behind this morning’s embarrassment.”
Reggie shrugged. “He blames both of us.”
“I doubt it. I made peace with him two months ago. He knows I would not set him up again.”
She looked at Reggie. “You refer to the incident at Lady Horseley’s?”
He nodded.
“What exactly did he drop – between friends?”
“A rather suggestive drawing of a man and a woman.” He winked. “But that is as much as I will say.”
“If it was anything like the one my brother keeps in his desk, it was more than suggestive.”
Reggie laughed. “I am shocked that you know of such things.” His voice made a joke of the statement. “I am more shocked that you would snoop through your brother’s effects. And I am appalled that a vicar’s son would keep such a print where it might be found.”
“As well you should be.” Lord Sedgewick was not joking. “Mother is looking for you, Reggie. You had best find her before she stages a scene in public. She expected you to call upon your return.”
Shrugging, Reggie excused himself.
Sedge turned a puzzled stare on Joanna. “You are not tongue-tied tonight.”
“I am not embarrassed tonight.”
“Don’t you fear that I might ruin you?”
“Not in the least.” She met his eyes. “It would hardly enhance your reputation to destroy someone from a lower class who poses no threat to your own – unless Society considers lemonade a lethal weapon. I know you would gladly consign me to Hades, but since I am incapable of changing your opinion, it no longer matters. Thus I need not cringe when you appear.”
Unfortunately, her claims were false. His stares always made her feel guilty of some gross solecism. His very presence made her squirm. But she was determined to prove that she could control her voice and face, despite his renewed use of that dratted glass. “I do owe you an apology for last night, though, and my thanks for twice rescuing me from disaster.”
“It was nothing.” Having studied every inch of her costume, he turned his quizzing glass toward Harriet. “Regardless of her age, she is rather young to be marrying.”
“I agree, but her father wishes her to wed. My job is to screen her suitors and prevent her from forming unsuitable attachments.”
That snapped his eyes to meet hers. “You?”
“If you are honestly shocked, then your opinion of me is lower than I thought. I fear your reputation for judging people to the inch must be overstated.”
“Despite Reggie’s claims to the contrary, you’ve given me little cause to consider you sensible.”
Heat stained her cheeks. “Touché, my lord. You have indeed seen me at my worst, though I suspect your judgment is based on gender more than our brief acquaintance. Shallow beings rarely look past the surface.”
“Are you not a female?”
“So are Lady Hartford, Lady Comstock, and Miss Washburn,” she said, naming an intellectual, a gamester, and a brainless widgeon.
“Touché, yourself. So which of them is more like you? Until recently, I would have sworn it was Miss Washburn.”
“It hardly matters, my lord. As Mary Wollstonecraft noted, a woman’s sex even stands between her and rational converse.”
“Ah, another of her radical devotees, I see.”
“Hardly. The only radical notion I espouse is that women are as capable of rational thought as men – sometimes more so.” Especially in his case. A rational man would hardly spend his days in vapid conversation.
“Perhaps you also agree with her comment that many men are capable of a tolerable understanding.”
“Do you claim such an aptitude?” she dared, surprised to hear him counter her quote from
A Vindication of the Rights of Women
with a quote from
A Vindication of the Rights of Men
.
“Many believe so, though others might quibble.”
She pursed her lips in thought. Reggie was right. Lord Sedgewick was quick-witted – which made his public persona more enigmatic than ever. “Perhaps we have both been guilty of judging on too little acquaintance. But why would an educated man choose to play the part of a mindless fribble?”
He flinched. “An odd question. I must wonder why you ask it.”
“Rudeness. I spoke without thought, though the question itself is hardly odd. I will shortly assume a post as a governess. Training girls will be easier if I understand the society they must enter.”
“An interesting ambition.” His quizzing glass again examined her.
The music stopped, recalling her to duty. She had already passed too much time on conversation. “We can debate my ambitions another time, my lord. But for now, I must distract Lord Darnley. He is not a man I wish to see in Harriet’s court.”
“Quite unsuitable,” he agreed. “But loath to take direction from women. With your permission, I will deal with him.”
“Thank you.”
* * * *
Sedge left Darnley in the card room.
He had maintained his facade of aloof amusement during the entire confrontation with Miss Patterson, but it had been difficult. Every erotic dream he had suffered in recent days had risen up to torment him the moment he caught sight of her. It didn’t help that Reggie had been right about her intelligence. When she was not in the throes of temper or embarrassed from dousing him with lemonade, she was a most intriguing woman.
The admission added to his turmoil, for Reggie was more enamored than even their mother had feared. He might claim simple friendship, but when he had arrived in the ballroom, his face had revealed the truth. His eyes had locked instantly onto Miss Patterson, joy stripping years from his countenance. He had all but ignored greetings in his haste to reach her side.