Chapter Eighteen

As Mr. Wilburn sat at the head of the servants' table, he could hardly believe his ears.

"I am sorry, Masterson, would you repeat that," he said.

Lord Bramley's valet nodded. "The three ladies, The Stalwarts they call themselves, named our Lord Bramley a viper, a crocodile, and a magpie."

Though he had now heard it twice, he did not understand it any better than the first time.

"Why on earth should three ladies of society use such pejoratives against the lord? As well, what sort of insults are these, I hardly understand them."

Masterson said, "I see where you're confused. You see, it was at the Duchess of Ralston's secrets exposed party. The ladies were asked to name what animal a gentleman would be. If he were an animal and not a gentleman, mind you."

Mr. Wilburn had never heard anything more absurd in his life. "What are these animals supposed to mean though? A viper and a magpie do not have much in common."

"Ah, well you see the ladies had to make some comment as to why they chose their animal. Let's see, the viper was he already knew why, though he says he don't, the crocodile was something about danger beneath the surface, and the magpie was stealing things."

Masterson sat back as if everything had been satisfactorily explained. Mr. Wilburn could not make heads or tails of it.

Until an idea began to form. Perhaps the magpie gave it away. This was all due to the earl inviting Miss Semper and Lady Juniper onto the barge, and then to a dinner.

They fancied Lord Bramley was a fortune hunter and condemned him for it.

It was very unfair. Of course gentlemen must find fortunes. Mr. Wilburn was aware that the whole business was buried under the illusion of courtly love, but everybody understood the realities of the thing.

Masterson sighed. "He won't say, but I reckon he's that cut up about it. Lady Constance has gone cold on him."

Now that was a bright spot in this ludicrous situation. It seemed Lady Constance had solved the problem of Lady Constance by herself.

The less than bright spots were Lady Juniper and Miss Semper. All hope was lost there. The earl would likely need to wait until next season to locate a suitable lady for Lord Bramley.

Of course, there was the slight chance that Lord Bramley might make more of the estate, thereby dispensing with the need to bring in a dowry. But that chance seemed remote and exceedingly slim.

No, he was all but certain a dowry would need to be had. Perhaps Mr. Wilburn might gently hint to the earl to not be so obvious about things next season. Though, he would need to tread carefully, as it had been he himself who had posited the barge scheme.

It had seemed such a good idea at the time!

He supposed ladies were more astute than he had imagined—the earl's efforts had been about as opaque to them as thin chiffon curtains.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mr. Ludwig attended the Join Forces Rout every year. It was a large and crowded event that held several distinct advantages. One, the invitations went out from a dozen charitable ladies and so none of them would realize that he'd not got an invitation at all. Two, there were bowls of money scattered throughout the house.

The year before, he'd pocketed ten guineas and only left when he became concerned that he was pressing his luck when Lord Jonas had come into a room near-silently. To be caught at such a thing would bar every door in London against him.

The final advantage was that no lady worth her salt would skip it, as to do so was to look uncharitable. He was certain the countess would bring Lady Constance.

That lady would be primed to speak to him, he was certain. All anybody could talk about everywhere he went today was the scene at the Duchess of Ralston's secrets exposed party. He'd not been able to attend, as he was not invited and the duchess did not like him. But that had not stopped him from hearing about it.

Lord Bramley had been denounced as a viper, a crocodile, and some bird or other. He did not understand the bird, but he did the other monikers.

His anonymous letter had worked better than he'd even imagined it would.

Bramley was out of the running for Lady Constance. A fellow named a viper would never be able to get back into the running.

Mr. Ludwig suppressed a snort of laughter as he slipped a handful of half-crowns and shillings into his pocket from the bowl for the Home for Abandoned Children. Bramley would not have known what hit him. He would wonder, just as the rest of the ton was currently wondering, what on earth he'd done.

"Mr. Ludwig," a voice said behind him.

He momentarily froze. It was Lady Constance. When had she come into the room? Had she seen him pocket the money?

He turned and said, "Lady Constance."

"Mr. Ludwig, did you take coins from that bowl?"

"Ah yes, I put in a guinea and took back some change for it. One does like to spread the wealth around, you see."

"Oh."

She did not look entirely convinced. To stop her from wondering further, he said, "I understand the Duchess of Ralston's secrets exposed party was rather rousing last evening."

Lady Constance appeared rather pained to hear it spoken of, so perhaps he should not have mentioned it. He had hoped she would be feeling victorious over having unmasked a scoundrel, but she did not seem so.

"Well," he said, attempting to sound jocular, "they are saying that Bramley's been caught out fortune hunting. I never do understand a man, a real man in any case, looking to a wife to solve his financial problems."

"Who are they?"

"They?"

"You said, they are saying. Who are they?"

"Oh, you know, people here and there. Gossip travels and all that."

"Constance, there you are," the Countess of DeWitton said. Lady Constance's mother hurried in carrying her velvet purse of coins.

"Yes, Mama," Lady Constance said. "Lady Melvern told me the bowl for the abandoned children's home was in here and I thought I might read about it."

"Mr. Ludwig," the countess said.

He bowed. "Countess."

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. Mr. Ludwig began to fear his anonymous letter had not been as successful as he'd thought. Bramley had been driven off, but Lady Constance seemed miles from being won over.

What else could he do? He'd put his own note on the mahogany box but it had been returned, he'd tried to call at the house but had been told the ladies were not at home, he'd utterly destroyed Bramley. What next?

He could send flowers, but then if he could not sign them without them being returned what was their purpose?

"Shall we visit the other rooms?" the countess asked her daughter.

"Yes, of course we should, but…Mr. Ludwig, might you give my mother and I a moment alone? I wish to speak to her on a ladies' matter."

There was absolutely nothing he could say to that. He felt as if his chance was slipping away. He could not allow it to slip away. He must act quickly. He must speak to the earl and convince him that he was the best choice, then her father could convince her it was so.

"Ladies," he said, bowing. "Countess, I will call on the earl on the morrow to discuss an important matter."

He turned on his heel and hurried out before he could be told no. He would speak to the earl man to man. These women had no sense about them and were too ruled by their rather fraught emotions.

Mr. Frederick Ludwig would convince the Earl of DeWitton that he should wed his daughter if it were the last thing he ever did.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Matthew had not slept much the night before. He'd finally given up and taken his horse out early to clear his head.

It did not work one iota. On top of failing to understand what had happened to cause Lady Constance to despise him, it seemed he had become notorious.

Everywhere he went, people stared. He'd even seen Lady Markwell drop the curtain on her carriage window. He was a pariah and did not know why, except to guess that Lady Juniper had turned Lady Constance against him because of his father's ham-handedness at trying to secure a large dowry.

He decided he must get out of Town—there was nothing for him here. He'd thought of going to the estate, but it was all too likely that the earl would follow him home at some point. His father had really done enough for one season.

He'd finally written a note to Sir Jonathan to ask to borrow his fishing lodge in Scotland. Matthew had been there before—the fishing was excellent and, most importantly, it was very remote. Nobody would stare at him there. The local people who lived nearby would not give a toss for the Duchess of Ralston and her ridiculous parties.

He'd received an answer, and it was a better answer than he'd been expecting. Sir Jonathan would happily lend the lodge, and he was determined to go with him.

Sir Jonathan was a true friend. Which, Matthew supposed, one discovered when one landed oneself in trouble.

The only caveat had been that they must have a carriage for the journey. Sir Jonathan had taken a fall from his horse and while the horse had not gone lame, Sir Jonathan had. He would stay off horseback for the next few weeks.

It was not insurmountable. Both he and Sir Jonathan only drove phaetons, which would not do for such a trip. He decided he would borrow his father's large carriage. They would set off at dawn and he would leave the earl a note about it.

His father was bound to be annoyed, but Matthew was annoyed too. This situation he found himself in would never have happened if his father had stayed out of it. It would serve the old soldier right to have to rent a carriage until his return.

Masterson came into his bedchamber with a fresh neckcloth. Matthew looked at it and said, "I don't know what that is for, I have no intention of going out this evening."

"I see," his valet said. "So it is a sure thing, we leave at first light for Scotland?"

"It is. Tell the coachman, but ask him to keep it under his hat. Tell nobody else—I'll leave a note for the earl."

Masterson nodded. "I'll arrange to hire a sturdy vehicle for myself, Sir Jonathan's valet, and the luggage."

"Excellent," Matthew said.

"But you're sure there ain't a way to repair whatever's been done. Some way to get to the bottom of it and make it up to Lady Constance?"

"I'm afraid her mind has been entirely taken over by the spitefulness of Lady Juniper."

"She's a rum sort," Masterson said.

Yes. Lady Juniper was indeed a rum sort. Lady Constance might despise him, but nobody on earth could despise anybody more than he despised Lady Juniper Croydon at this moment.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Constance watched Mr. Ludwig leave the room with some incredulity. What did he mean, he was coming to their house to speak to her father on an important matter?

"Constance," the countess said, "I can only think of two reasons a gentleman such as Mr. Ludwig would wish to have an appointment with your father. One, he has some sort of business proposition, or two he wishes to ask for your hand."

"Then he'd better have a business proposition, Mama."

"As I think too, but if it is not so, would there be any reason why he would feel encouraged?"

"No, none at all," Constance said. "I like him less every time I encounter him."

"Well, I suppose we shall discover his purpose on the morrow. I will warn your father so he is not taken unawares and he will be fully informed of your feelings. Now let us go. I did see Lady Juniper in the room set aside for The Young Ladies Training Institute and I know you will wish to see your friend.

Constance did indeed wish to see Lady Juniper. However, she said, "One moment, Mama."

She took some coins from her purse to put into the bowl for the abandoned children. As she did so, she examined the other coins already there. There was no guinea.

Mr. Ludwig had stolen from parentless children. Now she liked him even less. If fact, she could not think of who in the world she liked less than that gentleman.

"Goodness," the countess said, "what was the ladies' matter you wished to discuss?"

"Oh that was nothing," Constance said. "I just did not wish for Mr. Ludwig to follow us from room to room."

"Clever girl."

The countess led her out of the room just as others were coming in. At least those people would be putting money into the bowls rather than taking it out.

They found Lady Juniper and Miss Semper in the room set aside for the young ladies' training institute.

The countess said, "I will leave you with your friends. I must find Lady Melton and her blankets for infants knitting club or I'll never hear the end of it."

Her mother made her way out of the room. Lady Juniper said, "I was just explaining to Miss Semper that charities like this one are the type I prefer. Training these girls to be seamstresses or lady's maids and such is at least arming them with some independence. As much independence as one can have as a woman of little means, in any case."

"It makes sense, I thought," Miss Semper said.

Constance leaned forward a bit so she could keep her voice low. "I have just seen Mr. Ludwig take money out of a bowl," she said quietly. "He claimed he was taking change back from a guinea, but there was no guinea there."

"That is dastardly!" Lady Juniper said. "We ought to inform the charitable ladies of it."

"Perhaps not yet," Constance said. "He also told my mother that he requires an interview with my father on the morrow."

"You do not think…" Miss Semper trailed off.

"I do not know what to think, really. I am a bit frightened to think…why would he imagine…"

"Ladies."

They were interrupted by Sir Jonathan. Constance could not help but notice the rather instant flutter from Miss Semper. She giggled, she turned shades, she murmured, "Goodness, Sir Jonathan."

"Miss Semper, I am glad to have encountered you." Sir Jonathan appeared very serious, though Constance could not imagine why.

"Are you?" Miss Semper said, seeming hardly able to mask how enthusiastic she was over the idea that he was glad to see her.

"I wished to take my leave. I quit Town on the morrow and likely will not return for some time."

The effect of that particular statement seemed a heavy blow upon Miss Semper. She was positively speechless.

Lest they all stand there like idiots, Constance said, "If it is not too personal, can you tell us where you travel to, Sir Jonathan?"

She asked it because she was certain it was what Miss Semper would ask if she could get the words out. She dearly hoped that Sir Jonathan was being called away by a sick relation, else he would not have chosen to leave Miss Semper's side.

"I am traveling to my fishing lodge in Scotland," Sir Jonathan said. "My friend, Lord Bramley, finds he has been much maligned and wishes to depart London."

Sir Jonathan bowed, turned on his heel, and walked out.

Constance was speechless. It seemed Miss Semper was too.

"I see what's happened," Lady Juniper said.

"You do?" Miss Semper said, her voice full of hope.

"Poor Sir Jonathan does not know what we know. For him, the monikers we applied to Lord Bramley last evening must seem out of the blue and unfair."

"Oh dear, he does not like me now," Miss Semper said fretfully.

"Nonsense, he will come to see the truth, Miss Semper. They will be holed up in a remote fishing lodge with nothing to do but talk and fish. Bramley will talk, the truth will come out, and then Sir Jonathan will understand your very sensible position."

"I'm sure he will not stay away too long," Constance said. She meant to reassure Miss Semper, though her thoughts were elsewhere. Lord Bramley was leaving Town.

"I think so too," Lady Juniper said. "When Sir Jonathan returns, we will launch an investigation into his motives regarding you, Miss Semper. I must say, I have a good feeling that we will discover his motives are pure."

"That is very comforting, Lady Juniper!" Miss Semper said.

"You are not to fret over it," Lady Juniper said.

As Lady Juniper reassured Miss Semper, Constance's thoughts spun ahead of their own accord. Lord Bramley was leaving Town in disgrace. Perhaps she ought not to have done things so publicly. Perhaps she should have told him privately that he must look elsewhere.

Or perhaps it was fair and just that everyone knew what he really was? Might it not save another lady coming along the sort of heartache she was feeling?

She really did not know anymore. As much as she understood that Lord Bramley was a scoundrel, she was saddened that he must be driven out of Town. It was all very stupid. She was very stupid.

She began to wish she'd never inherited that money. If she had not, Lord Bramley would not have looked twice at the unremarkable brown-haired lady. She would not have thought anything of it. After all, why would such a glorious man pay his attentions to ordinary Lady Constance? Her heart would have remained whole, rather than bruised and broken.

The rest of the evening was spent going room to room to read about, and donate to, the various charities. It had become too crowded to talk confidentially and Constance was left to brood in her own thoughts.