Chapter Six

Matthew paced his bedchamber. Something had happened, but he was in the dark as to what it was. The prince's fête for the regatta had not gone at all as he'd envisioned it. He'd wished to shake off his day at sea with Lady Juniper and Miss Semper and have a lively conversation with Lady Constance.

Instead, he'd found Lady Constance by the side of Lady Juniper, they were to have tea together to "compare notes," and Lady Constance had not known what he was talking about when he mentioned the daffodils.

Finally, his valet knocked and entered.

"Masterson, you did remember to send daffodils to Lady Constance?"

"Ah, the daffodils. Mr. Wilburn insisted he do it himself. Sometimes that fellow doesn't think anybody else can do anything right."

"It seems then that it is Wilburn who has not done something right," Matthew said.

"That's surprising," Masterson said. "He's rather a stickler for doing things that ought to be done."

"Yes, he is," Matthew said thoughtfully. "So perhaps the truth is he did not think it should be done."

Masterson rubbed his chin. "You think he didn't send them on purpose? That he's in league with the earl? About the dowry?"

"He might be."

"Now that I think of it, I'll wager he is," Masterson said. "Considering some things that have been said below stairs."

"What things?"

"Well, he might'a said something about how if the money runs low, the servants are the first to go."

"Did he now…"

"Aye, the kitchen maid has been sniffling round the place for days as she's convinced she'll be the very first out the door."

Matthew was not quite certain what to do about it. If Mr. Wilburn were acting on the earl's directions, there was not much he could do about it.

"Maybe Mr. Wilburn is taking advice from those other gentlemen he walks the park with," Masterson said.

"What other gentlemen?"

"The other butlers of the square. They're thick as thieves, those fellas. One day last year, I saw them all leave their houses in carriages, at the same time. Was that a coincidence? Where were they all going? And then, being a person who likes to have their ear to the ground, I've heard that at least four of them take Thursday afternoons off, including our Mr. Wilburn. Why all the same day?"

Matthew had no answers for those questions, though he did not think having the same afternoon off signified anything. After all, there were only seven days in the week, not a hundred.

"I just wonder if they're conspiring together," Masterson said.

Matthew always marveled at his valet's vivid imagination. The idea that a group of butlers who all lived on the same square during the season were conspiring to some nefarious purpose was ludicrous.

"I think a bunch of butlers conspiring is less of a possibility than Mr. Wilburn conspiring with my father. The earl is determined to push me on Lady Juniper or Miss Semper, though the effort is futile."

"Lady Constance is not futile, but she doesn't have the money," Masterson said, pointing out the difficulty that Matthew kept purposefully ignoring.

"No, she does not. But certainly there must be a way round that. Perhaps I ought to take up gambling after all."

Masterson shook his head. Very vigorously, Matthew noted. "I don't advise it, my lord. You've never taken to it and it's no game for a novice. You'd just end worse off in the end."

Matthew knew that assessment was probably right. He'd never gambled for large amounts and it would probably not be prudent to start at this juncture. It would not be very clever to find himself putting a bullet in his head because he couldn't settle his debts.

"Well, there's got to be something to do," he said. "I just have not thought of it yet. I cannot be pushed into tying myself to a lady I do not even like. In the meantime, send daffodils to Lady Constance and make sure Wilburn does not get in your way about it."

Masterson nodded gravely. "Fool me once, as they say."

"Just be certain you are not fooled twice. Wilburn can be cagey, in my estimation."

"I'll be keeping a close eye on that butler," Masterson said. "Now, what's this about the earl telling me that you're to attend some sort of poetry night? I hardly believed it when he told me."

Matthew sighed. "Lady Thurston's poetical tableau, which has very little to do with poetry and very much to do with Lady Thurston's pique of the moment. I understand last year's offering was a scold to her husband over her pin money. Every year she transforms her ballroom into a theater, boxes included. She'd probably have more pin money if she did not spend so much on her tableau."

"Why should you wish to go to such a palaver?"

"Because unbeknownst to my father, I have spoken to Lady Thurston and she has confirmed that Lady Constance and her parents have accepted the invitation. My father wishes to go because he knows Lady Juniper and Miss Semper will be there too. I have exacted further insurance of not being harassed by those two ladies by swearing that if they are found in our box, I will turn on my heel and leave."

"I suppose the old soldier took that as well as could be expected."

"If you expected not very well, then he did," Matthew said. "I left him in the breakfast room, my mother soothing him with the idea that it was the way of the world."

Masterson snorted, as everybody in the house knew it was the countess' habit to blame the world for any and all difficulties.

"There is one other problem looming on the horizon," Matthew said, "but I am not certain I have even grasped what the problem is. It just feels like a problem. Lady Constance and Miss Semper are to have tea with Lady Juniper at her house. To compare notes, Lady Juniper said. She said ladies liked to compare notes."

Masterson dropped the coat he'd been brushing and stared at him.

"All right," Matthew said, "obviously you have some idea of the problem."

"Some idea? Some? Three ladies trading confidential opinions? It's a disaster."

"Come now, it cannot be as bad as that," Matthew said, a bit uncomfortable that maybe it could be as bad as that.

"Mark me, it is as bad as that. It is worse than that. I have three sisters—their notes-comparing would put a curl in your hair, if your head didn't burst into flames first."

"As bad as that? Well, if my name comes up at all there cannot be so much against me. It is true I was not, perhaps, as gallant as I could have been on the barge. But I have committed no actual crime."

Masterson sniffed. "When ladies are comparing opinions, it is a small leap from not very gallant to rogue of monstrous proportions. One time, my sisters were complaining of the butcher shorting them on meat. The fat hadn't been properly trimmed. Less than an hour later, they were speculating that he needed extra money because he kept a mistress."

Matthew shuddered. My God. What would be said at that tea?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Constance was rather impressed as the carriage slowed to a stop on Bedford Square. Lady Juniper's father, the Earl of Wellerston, had a marvelous house of fine white stone and restrained and elegant architecture.

A footman who'd been on the lookout hurried to the carriage door and helped her down.

Her mother had been pleased to understand that Lady Juniper had invited her for tea in her garden. Constance was rather pleased herself.

Lady Juniper was an interesting sort of person. She was exceedingly direct, surprisingly so, but she also seemed very kind. Apparently, Miss Semper had failed to find her sea legs when she'd been on Lord Bramley's barge and Lady Juniper felt the lady would need some propping up to recover from the experience.

The butler, a rather dignified old fellow, led her to the back of the house and out into the garden.

Constance did not know what she had expected from an earl's garden in Town, but it had not been what was before her.

There were flowers, there were bushes, there was a footman standing by in case something was needed—all very usual. But the rest of it…

Lady Juniper noted her arrival and hurried forward. "Lady Constance, you are most welcome." Seeing her guest gaze round the garden, she said, "I do hope you like dogs, I probably should have asked."

"Goodness, I am very fond of dogs," Constance said. It was well that was the truth, as there seemed to be a dog everywhere she looked. They lay under tables and on top of benches and along the hedgerow and on the paved paths.

The dogs did not seem to take much notice of her as Lady Juniper led Constance over to a charming arbor. Cushioned chairs were set round an inlaid marble table, atop which was laid a tea service and a tiered tray of cakes and biscuits.

The footman stood by, occasionally glancing at the dogs to ensure they were still in order. Constance had never seen so many dogs together outside of a foxhunt. These dogs were a deal quieter and far more calm than her father's pack.

Lady Juniper looked somehow softened from what she'd been at Carlton House. Her demeanor was more relaxed and it made her rather pretty. She had angular sort of features that could easily seem pinched with annoyance. They had definitely been pinched at the prince's party, but they were not so now.

"Miss Semper has not yet arrived, but I am certain she will be here shortly."

"I very much look forward to being acquainted with that lady," Constance said. "May I ask, how you come to have so many dogs?"

Lady Juniper nodded and smiled, and Constance was grateful she did not seem offended by the question. She could not help asking it—how on earth did one acquire so many dogs?

"I never started out with so many dogs, nor was it ever my plan to get so many dogs. However, it came to my attention one day, some years ago, that my father was attempting to pawn off one of our hunting dogs. That poor little mite was not at all suited for the work—undersized and rather fearful. Well, I stepped into it and demanded Roscoe as my pet. My father relented, of course. Since then, every sad case somehow lands at our doors—deafness, blindness, lameness, crippling shyness, I've seen it all. It seems people have little patience for anything out of the ordinary."

"And the earl does not mind it?" Constance asked, imagining her own father would mind it very much.

"There was some rough going in the beginning. The fortunate thing about having so many now though, is when a new one arrives, my father does not even notice it."

Constance gazed round the garden at the dogs in every location. She would have imagined it would be chaos, but it decidedly was not.

"They are all very well behaved," she said.

"Indeed," Lady Juniper said. "I theorize that they all somehow know that they have escaped an unlucky fate of some sort. They are satisfied to enjoy the sunshine and have a good dinner. And then, at home they all run where they like."

"It must have been quite the job getting them all here," Constance said, having not the first idea of how it would have been managed. Or even why it had been managed.

"Four farmer's carts," Lady Juniper said. "Fortunately, it was not a long journey and they were all very courteous. One of the drivers said he'd never seen the like. Interestingly, that one over there hopped aboard at some point—I haven't the first idea where he came from."

Constance watched an old hound roll on his back to catch the sunshine on his stomach. Lady Juniper was a regular Saint Francis.

The butler led a lady into the garden.

"Miss Semper, my lady," he said.

"Dear Miss Semper," Lady Juniper said, rising. Constance rose too.

After everyone had duly curtsied and got that out of the way, Lady Juniper said, "Miss Bessy Semper, may I introduce you to Lady Constance Condower."

"I am very charmed, Lady Constance," Miss Semper said.

Just as Constance had noted when she'd viewed the lady on Lord Bramley's barge, Miss Semper was a rather short individual. Possibly made shorter by the enormous amount of frills and ruffles that seemed to pop out in every direction. She was drowning in material.

"Gracious, dogs!" Miss Semper said, just now noticing how many of them were about.

"You are not afraid of dogs, Miss Semper?" Lady Juniper asked.

"Only the ones that bite," Miss Semper said, looking around as if to identify any that might be thinking of it.

"Fear nothing, then," Lady Juniper said. "I would never allow such rudeness."

They seated themselves and Lady Juniper poured the tea. After they were comfortably settled, she said, "Would I be stepping too far if I presumed the season's early days have so far felt rather fraught?"

Miss Semper nodded vigorously. Constance found herself nodding too. It had seemed rather fraught.

"I do not see any virtue in tiptoeing round a subject, though every governess I ever had vehemently counseled against it. So, I will be plain. I come with a lot of money, Miss Semper comes with a lot of money, and I speculate that there are some in society who at least believe Lady Constance comes with a lot of money."

"It's like a noose round one's neck," Miss Semper said sadly.

Constance did not disagree. It was one of the reasons she did not wish anyone to know what she came with. One of the reasons she hoped that information had not somehow got out.

"I have always viewed it as being for sale in some manner," Lady Juniper said. "My father says my choice is up to me, as long as I do not bring him someone who is not a gentleman."

"That is very liberal," Constance said. In truth, she thought it was exceedingly liberal. Some fathers, had they funded their daughter in such a generous manner, would expect what society would deem a ‘brilliant match.'

"So it is left up to me to discern if a gentleman is interested in me or my money," Lady Juniper said.

"Have you any ideas?" Constance asked, hoping Lady Juniper might speak of Lord Bramley in some manner. She was not in the least concerned that Lady Juniper liked the lord, as anybody could see that she did not. But perhaps she knew some bit of information that would somehow redeem him from having two well-funded ladies on his barge for the regatta.

"Oh yes," Lady Juniper said. "In fact, I have put those ideas into action already. It is in my manner, you see. I do everything I can to drive them all away."

"I see!" Miss Semper said.

Constance did not see at all. "But, if you drive them all away, how will you ever marry?"

Miss Semper's forehead wrinkled, as apparently she'd not thought that far ahead.

"It is my intention that I will eventually wed the very gentleman my father will not like to hear of. His name is Mr. Witherington, son of a viscount in my neighborhood."

Miss Semper leaned forward. "Is it a secret engagement? Is Mr. Witherington to sweep you off to Gretna Green?"

"There is no engagement. Yet," Lady Juniper said. "He would have asked, I know he would have, but my father has told him in no uncertain terms that it shall not be sanctioned. All because he's got a long-running argument with the viscount over a fence line."

"It's like Romeo and Juliet," Miss Semper said with a satisfied sigh.

"Perhaps," Lady Juniper said. "Though I will not be so stupid as that couple and neither will Roddy. We intend to live. So, I will muddle through this season, driving off the money-hungry, and then go home and propose to my gentleman. My father will have a screaming fit over it but I will remain unmoved by his histrionics. If Gretna Green becomes necessary, then Scotland should prepare for my arrival."

Constance was flabbergasted by Lady Juniper. She had known the lady was direct, but this was something altogether different. She was very bold. It was as if nothing in the world could frighten the lady.

"I wish there were a Mr. Witherington waiting for me at home," Miss Semper said. "My father sent me here to live with my aunt, Lady Florence, and I'm to wed a titled gentleman with good prospects."

"Have any caught your eye, Miss Semper?" Constance asked.

"No, I cannot say so. I feel…well I do not know if I should actually say how I feel."

"Out with it, Miss Semper. You are perfectly safe in our company."

Constance nodded to confirm the idea.

"I feel," Miss Semper said slowly, "as if people, gentlemen, find me silly. I do not understand it, as I do not feel silly at home."

"It's the clothes," Lady Juniper said matter-of-factly. "I cannot imagine what your modiste was thinking of."

Constance set her teacup down with a clatter.