Chapter Eight #2
An agitated Lady Eamont turned the ring on her finger and glowered at Madam Bouffant.
Bridget’s stomach tightened. She sensed trouble brewing.
*
After dinner, Nate and his friends retired to the smoking room, which was purposely situated far from the drawing room where the women congregated. Here, the men could gamble, drink, and smoke cigars to their hearts’ content without disturbing the ladies.
“Oh, come on, Squires, it will be most entertaining. The moon is beautiful outside.” Frederick sat, cigar in hand, on the dark-brown buttoned-leather sofa next to Dodsworth and Jefferson. All three men wore matching burgundy smoking robes.
Nate pushed aside the burgundy curtain, coordinated to match the robes, and peered out the window.
The night was indeed clear, and the moon was out, shining over the lake.
But after two months in the Lake District, he knew the weather could turn on a moment’s notice.
Clear skies could become covered by fog in seconds, and calm could be replaced by sudden storms.
Besides that, he was exhausted after the stressful day of receiving guests. And although it was early by London standards, he desperately wanted sleep.
“Do let’s go for a row on the lake now, old chap,” Frederick said. “Why wait for tomorrow?”
“Have you gone mad?” Nate replied. “You lot are far too drunk for that. One of you will end up falling in and drowning. Don’t be fools.”
“He has a point,” Dodsworth said. “I’m a strong swimmer, but throw me in the lake right now, and I’ll sink like a leaking ship.”
At that, all three of his friends burst out laughing.
“I have a better idea,” Jefferson said.
“Do tell.” Frederick leaned forward and filled his brandy glass.
Jefferson fished in his pocket, extracted a copy of Wordsworth’s Guide to the Lakes, and proceeded to fumble through it.
“Good Lord!” Frederick snickered. “You don’t plan to read poetry under the moonlight, do you?”
“No, it’s much better than poetry.” He took a folded piece of paper from between the pages.
“I came across this in a book on wildflowers and fungi before we left London.” Jefferson unfolded the paper.
“It’s a type of wild mushroom found in this region that can give you the most delicious hallucinations.
I say we go out and hunt for it and then see how it changes the way we view the sunrise. ”
“Splendid idea!” Frederick said. “What’s it called?”
“Who knows? Plants don’t grow out of the ground with labels. Here. I drew a picture of it.” Jefferson handed over the drawing.
Frederick reached for the paper, but Nate swiped it away first. “Let me see that.” He inspected the sketch.
Jefferson had drawn a small, long-stemmed mushroom with what looked like a domed cap on top.
Nate frowned. “Do you realize how much wild fungi grows in these parts? And some of them poison? You can’t risk eating a mushroom based on a crude drawing. ”
“Good heavens, Squires, you sound like someone’s mama—or worse—wife! I came out here to cheer you up, but it seems you like being stuck in the doldrums,” Frederick grumbled.
Nate shrugged. The truth was, he liked his life at Villa De Lacey more than he was willing to admit. “I only want you to be safe,” he said. “You’re not used to these parts.”
“Oh, bosh! You fuss too much, Squires.” Frederick downed his brandy. “What can happen to us here in this little plot of quiet countryside? Do you forget what London becomes at night? The worst thing that can happen to one of us here is that a moth might land on our coats.”
All three of his friends began laughing again.
“Very well, do as you wish. But please, stay far away from the wild mushrooms. I don’t need one—or all three of you—dying because you were stupid enough to ingest poison fungi. And be quiet if you venture out. The ladies are sleeping.”
“Don’t worry, we will creep outside like little field mice.” Frederick grinned. “And, if it pleases you, we will ask your gardener’s assistance in finding the edible gems tomorrow. That is, if he can make sense of Jefferson’s drawing.”
“Good idea.” Nate silently thanked the Lord that he’d been able to talk some sense into his friends. “And do be careful on the lake. The weather can change at the drop of a hat here.”
“It’s you who should be careful when you row out on the lake with Miss Eamont tomorrow,” Dodsworth said. “That Adelia looked like she wanted to eat you with a spoon.”
“He’s right,” Frederick drawled. “If you are not heedful, she and her mama will connive to trick you into being alone with her, at which point she will accuse you of compromising her reputation, and you will be forced to marry her. Then you will be as miserable as poor Harley here.”
Nate had almost forgotten about Harley, who sat apart from the others, quietly nursing a bottle of brandy.
“It’s true. I am miserable,” Harley said, looking up. “My aunt forced me into marriage by threatening my inheritance, and now she continues to threaten it because my wife is yet to produce an heir.”
“You’ve been married four years, have you not?” Nate said.
Harley nodded.
“And she’s never been with child?”
“Never,” he said miserably.
“But earlier you implied that your wife might be enceinte.”
Harley shook his head. “She isn’t. Her nervous stomach is down to fear. She is terrified every month when she has to give my aunt the disappointing news that she is not with child.”
“How awful,” Nate said.
“Especially since it’s my aunt’s fault—forcing me to marry a barren woman.”
“How do you know the fault lies with your wife?” Dodsworth asked.
“Pardon? What do you mean? Of course, the problem lies with her.”
“I have heard that the fault can lie with the man,” Dodsworth said.
“How dare you!” Harley said.
“Well, if you wish to know for certain, it shouldn’t be difficult to find out.” Frederick waved his hand casually.
“What are you talking about?”
“There are plenty of young, and might I say, fine-looking maidservants about. See if you can get one with child. If you do, then you will know that the problem lies with your wife and not with you.”
“Are you suggesting I father a bastard child?”
Frederick shrugged. “It’s not uncommon. I’m certain I have a few myself.”
“You mean you don’t know?” Nate asked with disgust. He’d always found Frederick’s rakish ways amusing. Perhaps he’d been blind to reality.
“No, do you?”
“Of course. I don’t have any children. There are ways to protect yourself.” Nate spoke with conviction, but something inside him shrank. How could any man be certain?
“I protect myself if I engage the services of a bawd. I don’t want a disease, but a maid is usually innocent—”
Nate shook his head. “Stay away from the maidservants at Villa De Lacey. I’m warning you.”
“I’m afraid, I can’t do that. There’s a little redhead whose—”
“For goodness’ sake, Frederick, don’t you have enough on your hands already?”
Frederick shrugged. “I suppose. But one gets so easily bored.”
“Well, you’ll have to find another way of entertaining yourself. Eat hallucinogenic fungi and go for a midnight swim in the lake if you must but leave my servants alone.” Nate glanced around the room. “All of you. I mean it.”
The four men looked at him with bleary eyes and nodded obediently. But as he watched them exchange their smoking robes for their jackets, he wasn’t convinced they’d keep their promise.