Chapter Six
If Winsome had looked for any clarity this night, she had looked in vain.
Lord Manderbey had been a perfect partner on the ballroom floor.
He was so nonchalantly confident and she found it very attractive.
She found him very attractive, all of him.
When she’d put her hand in his for the Grand Chain, she’d felt something.
Something new. She’d wished to skip over all the niceties of society and simply leap into his arms to try it out.
But then, she could not forget what he’d said. People were crawling out of the woodwork to demand money from him. How could he say it so casually? She must suppose he ought to get credit for not attempting to hide his situation. He seemed to be in the habit of losing a deal of money over cards.
Though, why did he not seem at all chastened by it?
One would hope, if a gentleman had made such a mistake, he would be embarrassed.
He would seek to rectify it. Lord Manderbey seemed to take it all as a joke.
How could she trust her life to such a man?
And yet she could not dismiss him from her thoughts.
Her dance with Lord St. John had raised even more questions. She’d got the idea that Lord Manderbey owed him a deal of money and she’d gone fishing for more information. She’d said, “Lord Manderbey made an amusing joke. He said people were coming out of the woodwork, dunning him for money.”
Lord St. John had seemed very taken aback and answered. “Is that what he said? Perhaps he ought to recall that we are family and pay up.”
She was being given more and more evidence that underneath that urbane and handsome exterior might be somebody dangerous.
She had promised herself that she would pay close attention to clues and run the other direction when it was hinted that she dealt with a less than honorable man. So why was she not inclined to run?
It was confounding. All these years she’d silently scolded the heroines in her novels for not running away when they sensed danger. How could they be so foolish? And here she was, acting just like them. She was going forward pretending she did not see what she saw, she did not know what she knew.
She’d done her best to wash away her pensiveness and be a creditable partner to the other gentlemen Lady Westmoreland had put down on her card. She hoped she’d done all right.
Now, Lord Landry led her through the last paces of the dance before supper and then put out his arm. He seemed to be in better spirits than he had been when he’d arrived. The poor fellow was probably uplifted by the idea that he’d somehow got through it.
He walked her into the dining room and looked about for two chairs together. “Would over there be all right?” he asked.
“Yes, yes,” Winsome said. “It is really not necessary to gain approval for all of your decisions, Lord Landry. Take me to whatever chairs you like.”
He steered her to the chairs he had mentioned and they sat down.
Just down the table on the opposite side, Lord Manderbey sat with Lady Edith.
Winsome had been introduced to her during one of the sets—she seemed a straightforward sort of person.
Though, just now she seemed to be lecturing Lord Manderbey on some matter.
“Oh dear,” Lord Landry said softly. “What should we ask for. I’ve heard, well it’s been mentioned that—”
“It’s all terrible,” Winsome answered for him. “Ask for tea and the dry cake, it is the best we will do.”
“Yes, that must be right, I thought so myself.”
After those two items had arrived, such as they were, Winsome said, “How did you get on this evening, Lord Landry?”
His spirits seemed to perk up at the inquiry.
“Not as bad as I thought. Some of it was entirely nerve-wracking, I cannot pretend it was not. What was I to say when Lady Finella asked about my interests? My interests, she wished to know. I like to ride my horse and have a look over my estate, make sure the home farm is in good order, but can that count as an interest? To be on the safe side of things, I said I did not have any.”
Winsome bit her lip. Whoever Lord Landry landed with, it was likely not Lady Finella.
“But then,” he went on, “I danced with Lady Edith. I told her I did not have any interests, as it seemed to be the right answer, and she said, ‘Good God man, are you not interested in your crops and herds?’ Then I said, ‘I am, actually.’ Then we talked about crops.”
“Gracious, it sounds as if you had a genial meeting of the minds,” Winsome said.
“I believe so,” Lord Landry said. “We are both to attend a card party on the morrow and I think I will ask about her herds. Does she have sheep? She never had time to say.”
Winsome was delighted for Lord Landry. However, there was another topic she’d like to touch on. “Lord Landry, as I think I might call you a friend—”
“A friend! Well yes, I will be your friend.”
“Excellent,” Winsome said. “I was just wondering, Lord Manderbey said he’s got people coming out of the woodwork looking for money and then Lord St. John said that Lord Manderbey ought to remember they were related and pay up.”
She watched closely as Lord Landry took in the information. “Ah yes, I understand the money problem has created some tension between them.”
Before she could question him further, the duke appeared behind her chair. “Well Landry, still in one piece, I see.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Lord Landry said, “and it is no small miracle.”
“I see, well guess what, Winny? The dowager and I have drained our flasks. I’d usually say it is time to go home before I throw mine at your aunt’s head but she’s not made an appearance. So, I suppose it is just time to go.”
With that, they left Lord Landry considering what questions about her herds he might pose to Lady Edith.
*
Leland held his arms up while his valet removed his shirt. What a palaver. The beginning of the ball had been perfection, but then it had all gone downhill from there.
He’d watched St. John dance with Lady Winsome and he’d not liked what he saw. His cousin could be very smooth mannered when he put his mind to it.
Then he’d seen his grandmother and he’d not liked what he saw there either. She was blatantly drinking from a flask at the edges of the ballroom, accompanied by the Duke of Pelham.
Then he’d seen that Landry had taken Lady Winsome into the dining room and he’d not liked what he saw there. Why was Landry to be giving carriage rides from court and taking the lady in to dine just because they’d met at an inn?
And finally, he’d himself taken in Lady Edith.
Why the lady grilled him on every subject he mentioned, he did not know.
The lady had a lot of opinions. Why was he to justify not keeping pigs at his estate in Hertfordshire?
He’d been forced to explain that he was rarely there, as he preferred Torquay, which was not a working farm.
She’d not been satisfied with that answer and noted that if he simply hired a pig man he would not need to be on the scene.
Then he’d had to go into the details of having a tenant who raised pigs as their sole source of income and he would not like to cut into the fellow’s profits.
She’d still not appeared wholly satisfied, but there really was nothing else to say.
Talking to Lady Edith was like facing a massive wave in a small boat—the encounter could not be stopped and one had better just hold on.
He’d finally extricated himself and then had to give his arm to his grandmother, who almost certainly was in her cups. Just now, she was currently lingering outside his firmly locked door despite having been delivered into the hands of Miss Price when they arrived home.
“I only say,” she said from the corridor, “the duke is great fun and Lady Winsome is pretty.”
“Ignore her,” Leland said to his valet, Richards.
“How am I to get out, though?” Richards whispered, glancing at the door.
“Go out through the wardrobe door to the corridor and then run, she will not be able to catch you. I’ll lock it after you go, so she is not able to catch me.”
“But on the other hand,” the dowager said, “I like Lady Edith’s homegrown country sense. Is she elegant? Well maybe not, but she’s got wide hips! They come in handy for babies.”
Richards staggered just the smallest bit to hear Lady Edith’s hips mentioned.
“I’ll have my best coat on the morrow for the duke’s dinner,” Leland told him. “The new dark-blue wool.”
“Now there is also Lady Finella—do not rule her out!”
“Is there brandy in the other room?” Leland asked.
“Yes, my lord, the decanter is full.”
Leland nodded. Once he’d arrived to the house and ascertained how difficult his grandmother planned on being, he’d had a door put in, leading from his bedchamber to a guest room.
It had since been redone as a library of sorts and had a large bolt added to the inside of the door leading to the corridor.
He would retreat in there to escape this current onslaught of opinions.
“Now I think common sense will tell you,” the dowager said, “that this season is chock full of suitable ladies—pick one!” There was a long pause, then his grandmother said, “Miss Price says I have to be abed now. We will pick up this conversation in the morning.”
Leland heard them make their way down the corridor, Miss Price issuing low encouragements and his grandmother repeating, “But it had to be said.”
She wished to pick up the conversation in the morning.
They certainly would do. Leland was prepared to lecture her severely on several fronts.
Drinking at Almack’s, presuming to manage him, and loitering at his door in the small hours of the morning.
He would conclude with how she was to comport herself at the duke’s dinner on the morrow.
She was to be circumspect. He would not wish Lady Winsome to turn away from him because he was in possession of a particularly strange relation.