Chapter Fourteen

Lord Varnay poured himself and his sister large glasses of brandy. The bottle was running low and he doubted the merchant would extend him any more credit, so it was well that they would soon be off to Lady Dudmore's party in Kent. It was high time he drank someone else's brandy for a few days.

"Do you suppose, brother, that the Duchess of Ralston would have taken your suggestion to invite Lady Jemima to be her companion?"

"I do not see why she would not have," Varnay said. "The question is, did Lady Jemima accept? I was more confident of the idea before those rumors started going round. Now, I am not so sure that her mother will wish her to be in view of the queen at this unfortunate moment."

"But certainly, the stories cannot be true," Miss Pickering said. "They are too absurd to be true."

"As I think too," Varnay said. "Are we really to believe that Lady Jemima set herself on fire and then leapt into a fountain? I do not know what actually occurred, but I will lay bets that whatever it was, it was Barstow's fault. Him and his stupid garden party everybody is always talking about. Who even wants a park to walk round in the middle of one's house?"

His sister did not answer that question. If he were being honest about it, he would glory in a house that size, its originality, the envy it inspired in others, and all the money required to keep it up. It was criminal that a man like Barstow had such opulence handed to him. It was even more criminal that a humorless sot like Barstow should have been handed the title of duke.

But, Varnay would cheer himself in remembering that Barstow's style of life was within reach. He must just stay steady to his purpose and secure Lady Jemima. Her dowry would carry him until she received her inheritance—it would be a smooth sail down a gentle river and he would have a decanter of brandy in every room. The merchants who turned up their nose now would beg for his custom.

"We must not waver, sister. We must go forward confident that we will see Lady Jemima at Lady Dudmore's party, Barstow will be nowhere in sight, and we will make her see what a genial family we are. I will be her suitor and you will be as her sister."

"Perhaps I ought to write her a note that I will attend and inquire if she has the same plan?"

"Yes, do it. Somehow inquire what her plan is. If we are so unlucky that she does not go, it would be helpful to know what she does do."

"I do hope her parents do not think to take her home because of these ridiculous rumors."

"That would be stupid. If the ton talks, they must be faced down," Varnay said. "No, I cannot think they would make such a bad move. I think they must send her to Kent under the protection of the Duchess of Ralston. That's what I would do."

Miss Pickering nodded. "Then certainly that is what they will decide. If we play our parts, Lady Jemima will forget all about that stern duke. Though, that still leaves my own situation very much up in the air."

"Yes, the duke is out, I suppose. You must look round Lady Dudmore's and find some likely fellow. You may not end a duchess, but you need not end a spinster."

At least, he dearly hoped his sister would not end a spinster. They were very inconvenient to have around one's house.

"And you, brother, must be wily indeed to avoid the attentions of Mrs. Ventriss. I understand she is not yet remarried and will still be on the hunt. She was very fond of you last year."

Varnay sighed. Mrs. Ventriss was a fortyish widow who had somehow deluded herself into imagining a match between them. He'd rather hang himself from the highest tree.

Now, if the lady had been sinking under the weight of a vast fortune he might hold his nose and proceed with such a notion.

She was of decidedly middling finances though. There was absolutely nothing the lady had to offer.

"Perhaps Mrs. Ventriss will have a tragic carriage accident on her way to Kent," he said.

"Or wed someone her own age," Miss Pickering said.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jemima had spent a full day in bed, stewing over the events at the Duke of Barstow's garden party and vowing she would never go near rum again, and she'd be more careful with Canary too.

In the following days, the effects of the rum had disappeared, but a heaviness of heart remained. Though her mother had denied it, she suspected that there was talk about her awful performance that evening. They had been meant to go to a rout just the day before and they did not go, the duchess claiming it would be a bore.

Jemima thought otherwise. She got the idea that she was being hidden until the Duchess of Ralston whisked her away to Kent.

She was not entirely against the idea. She rather wished to hide too.

Two things had occurred to break up the monotony of staying at home. Miss Pickering had sent a note, which Jemima had promptly answered. The lady would also attend Lady Dudmore's party.

Jemima had not recognized her own deep trepidation about the trip until she discovered she would have a friend there. She felt she might need a friend there, and finding out she would see Miss Pickering had raised her spirits.

The second thing that had happened was a bit more murky in its meaning. The duke had sent a bouquet of primroses. He sent the message of constancy. But constancy in what? That he constantly thought her a lunatic? The Duke of Barstow was never very clear!

She must admit she was surprised to receive flowers of any sort from the duke, considering what had happened. It was very confusing.

In any case, she need not attempt to untangle it, as she would not see him in Kent. She hoped that when she did see him again, so much time had passed that it made her actions of that terrible night just a distant and foggy memory.

Now, she paced the front hall as she and the duchess awaited the Duchess of Ralston's carriage. Whatever was to be faced outside of the house would shortly be faced.

"She is here," her mother said, striding out of the drawing room.

The footmen picked up her trunk from either side, while Mr. Harkinson opened the door. Aggie hurried out after them.

It had already been arranged that the duchess would not come in, as they were making an early start to Kent.

Her mother walked her out to the pavement. "Your Grace," the duchess said, while Jemima dropped to a deep curtsy.

"Bah," the Duchess of Ralston said, "what have we come to if a duchess is to address another duchess in such a manner?"

Jemima's mother nodded with a smile. "Duchess, then."

"Much better. And here is the young lady with the bright ideas about cake at Almack's. Lady Jemima."

Jemima rose. "Your Grace, I am very grateful for the invitation."

The duchess laughed and said, "I will not be "Your Graced" to death for the next three days. You'd better call me duchess too. On no account add dowager to the moniker—it reminds me of my age and I find that irritating."

With that directive, Jemima's trunk was loaded into a second carriage with Aggie and the duchess' lady's maid. Jemima was got into the duchess' carriage. She waved to her mother, the coachman slapped the reins, and they were off.

The duchess leaned back and said, "Well, Lady Jemima, you are making quite the name for yourself in Town."

Jemima blanched. Certainly, the lady had heard something. What the extent of it was, she could not know.

The duchess patted her arm. "Never mind it, dear. I will at least give you congratulations on the novelty of the tale. It is not every young lady who can be both on fire and swimming on the very same night. A less original girl would have done one thing at a time."

"It was an unfortunate series of events," Jemima said. That was how her mother had said to describe it if she were pressed to make a comment.

The duchess laughed loud and long. "It certainly was. Now, I have the ear of the queen. What I shall say about it is that I believe the rumor to have been started by some lady who has set her cap on Barstow. Whoever she is, the lady is consumed with jealousy over any other lady in the vicinity. The real story, as I will tell it, is that a transparency fell over of its own accord and was promptly extinguished. In a separate moment, your shoe was soaked in a puddle. From those two very innocent occurrences, a preposterous story was born."

Jemima was very grateful for the kindness, though she was not certain she wished the Duke of Barstow's name included in the story.

"Put it out of your mind," the duchess advised. "It is not the end of the world you may have thought it was. Have you heard of the house fire that occurred at the Duke of Ralston's house in 1762?"

"Goodness, no I have not."

"I set it myself in a fit of pique because the duke had made clear he preferred me and then I was certain he was paying far too much attention to another lady at a dinner at his house. I was Miss Price at the time and I had taken myself to the library, attempting to collect myself. When he came to find me, I threw a lit candle at his head, which promptly set the curtains ablaze."

"The Duke of Ralston? So…"

"Yes, exactly so. After the fire was put out, he swore his undying love and proposed, as he should have done from the start. Mind you, the talk about the fire and my part in it was terrible at the time, but nobody remembers it now. That is the way of things—the ton always has the next thing to talk about."

Jemima was very encouraged by the Duchess of Ralston's words. In truth, she was very encouraged by the duchess herself. Perhaps the circumstances she found herself in were not as dire as she'd thought. She had not hurt anybody; she had committed no crime. She had not even set the house on fire; she'd only set herself on fire. The duke's garden party was just an awkward moment in time, and it was a moment she would get past.

If only everybody else would view it in that light.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jasper was working his way through a pile of correspondence in his library when Randolph burst through the door without so much as a knock.

"You will not be happy," Randolph said, nearly breathless.

Jasper jumped from his seat, all manner of emergencies flashing through his mind. Was something flooded? On fire? Had something happened to his horse?

Then, even worse calamities—had an engagement been announced? Was he too late? Had Varnay somehow managed to prevail?

"What?" he shouted.

"Lady Jemima is, as we speak, on her way to Kent to attend Lady Dudmore's party. I heard it from a very reliable source. She goes without her parents."

Jasper sat back down again. "That cannot be right," he said. "Why on earth would her mother send her to a house party alone when she is in the midst of a dangerous setback?"

"It's right. My cousin is always right."

"It cannot be though; it flies in the face of reason. How is a young lady meant to go off alone to a house party, particularly if that young lady is experiencing a head injury that can lead to…outbursts?"

"Oh, I forgot one last bit of it. She does not go alone, she goes as companion to the Duchess of Ralston."

Jasper leaned back. Suddenly, with the addition of the duchess to the mix, it made much more sense. He could imagine the thought that had gone into it. Lady Jemima's mother would have weighed the advisability of hiding from the ton or facing them down. Then, the idea of putting her daughter under the protection of the Duchess of Ralston in Kent had come upon her.

Lady Jemima would be out of London, but not hiding at home. Most importantly, she would have the stamp of approval from the Dowager Duchess, who in turn had the ear of the queen. If anybody chose to talk about what might have occurred at his garden party, they would close their lips when it was known that Lady Jemima was currently acting as companion to the Duchess of Ralston at a party that the queen herself attended.

The vast majority of the ton lived in fear of ending on the wrong side of things. A bit of gossip would never be worth risking their place over. Matrons all over Town would hush the talk when it started by pointing out that Lady Jemima just now accompanied the Duchess of Ralston to Kent.

It was rather genius, but for one thing. Lady Jemima was about to be placed in a house with Varnay. He suspected her mother and father did not understand that particular danger.

"So?" Randolph asked. "Do we go to Kent?"

"Of course we do, there is no other option. As much as I detest the idea of Lady Dudmore's ridiculous party, we must put off Varnay."

"Lady Dudmore will be delighted that she has finally enticed the duke to attend."

Jasper tapped his fingers on the pile of papers in front of him. "That presents a second problem. I have already written Lady Dudmore that a distant cousin died and I am tied up with arrangements to be made for his widow and children. A certain Mr. Grainger has supposedly expired unexpectantly from a farming accident."

"Well, you could always say you decided that somebody else could manage the Grainger family," Randolph said.

"I'm not a beast!"

"They are not real people," Randolph pointed out.

"No, that will not do. I cannot shirk my responsibilities, even if they are invented responsibilities." He pulled a sheet of paper from his desk. "Stand by, while I inform Lady Dudmore that I will, after all, attend her house party. You will send the note by fast horse and then pack my things."

Jasper searched for just the right words regarding the changed fate of the phantom Mr. Grainger.

My dearest Lady Dudmore—

The most extraordinary circumstance has occurred. I have just been informed that Mr. Grainger has not, in fact, died. It seems that at a particular moment after his accident, there had been so little hope for his recovery that his steward had taken the liberty of writing me of his demise. Said steward has just written me a second and rather sheepish letter, advising me of his precipitous mistake.

This news has been cause for more than one celebration. Naturally, I am pleased that Mr. Grainger has pulled through. It has also freed me to accept your very kind invitation after having had to regretfully decline in past years.

I realize this is not much notice and pray you will find room for me. I shall be at your door by nightfall.

Barstow

Jasper sealed the letter with his crest and handed it over to Randolph. "Get this going on its way to Kent. We will like to be on the road ourselves in under two hours. Pack our bags and I will alert the stables and confer with Jacobs regarding the management of the household while we are gone. Oh, and if anybody in Kent asks you—Mr. Grainger was never really dead."

Randolph snorted, but he did not make comment on the ever-changing fate of Mr. Grainger. He hurried from the library, letter in hand.

Randolph could be unruly and take too many liberties and tell far too many jokes at Jasper's expense, but when something needed to be done in a hurry he could be counted on.

The library door closed and the full realization of what he proposed to do settled on his shoulders. The primary reason he'd always avoided Lady Dudmore's annual Upside Down party was the embarrassment of it. Lady Dudmore and the queen appeared to delight in making everybody look foolish.

Of course, there were those people who did not care about that aspect of it. They were so desperate to be noticed by the queen that they would suffer any sort of humiliation. Varnay was, of course, one of those types.

He did not know what Lady Dudmore had planned this year, other than to know it would be predictably ghastly.

But what else could he do? Lady Jemima was being delivered into Varnay's clutches. At a house party no less! There were far too many opportunities for an ambitious young man to press his suit at a house party. Random encounters in the house or in the garden were an ever-present opportunity.

And then, there was Lady Jemima's condition to consider. Somebody who understood it must be there to head off any dangerous situation that might develop. He did not know what the situation might be. So far, Lady Jemima's outbursts and setbacks had been wildly unpredictable. He must be ready to step in at every moment. He must protect Lady Jemima from Varnay and protect her from herself.