Chapter Seventeen
Leland had meant to go and see St. John in the late afternoon and then return home to change into his domino. However, it seemed whenever the dowager was nearby, all plans must be upended.
The dowager was determined to attend the masque and then remembered she had nothing to wear to it. Leland had counseled that nobody would mind it if she wore her regular clothes, but she became a regular badger about it. She must have something.
Miss Price had named for her several shops that might have something that would suit. Miss Price had claimed those shopkeepers would all lock their doors by six.
Time was suddenly of the essence and he was sent halfway across London to dig something up.
The first shop had stared at him uncomprehendingly and had nothing but bolts of cloth, ladies’ gloves, and hats.
The second had gone up into their attics and, after an interminable time, returned with a moth-eaten beaver coat and matching hat.
Leland had inquired what his grandmother was meant to portray dressed in that ensemble. The shopkeeper had shrugged and said he understood that trackers and hunters in the American West dressed in such a manner.
So, the dowager was going to the masque as a moth-eaten pioneer.
It was no surprise to him whatsoever to find the dowager waiting for him at the door, flanked by the ever-nosy Miss Price.
They examined his offering and declared it preposterous.
He’d declared back that it was the only thing going and if the two of them had been more organized they would not be in this fix.
Miss Price had sniffed and claimed they could do something with it, before carrying it up the stairs. His grandmother lingered. “I will look a madwoman, but I’ve got to attend the masque. Important to be on hand, I think.”
“I really do not imagine so,” Leland said, hoping very much that she would choose to stay home rather than drape herself in moth-eaten beaver fur.
“We’ve got to broaden the search for a wife,” the dowager said. “I found out that Lady Edith is betrothed to Lord Landry, so that’s out. Good hips on that one, I still say.”
Leland ignored yet another reference to Lady Edith’s hips. “I am aware of the engagement and, as you are well aware, it means nothing to me more than good wishes for Landry. I am set on Lady Winsome.”
“Un-set yourself! Her reputation is in tatters! First she is compromised by Landry and then that fellow leaves her to face it and instead engages himself to Lady Edith. It is one humiliation after the next.”
“None of it is true, though,” Leland pointed out.
“I do not think what is true and what is not true matters at this late date. What matters is what people think is true. Now, I am in no way against Lady Winsome. When two people make a mistake of that variety, it is always the woman who will pay the price and I recognize the unfairness of it. That does not change the situation.”
“There is no situation.”
“Manderbey, do see sense. Now, the best thing for Lady Winsome is to be far away for a long time. Then she might return and it is all forgotten about. Remember? Lady Wilhemena did just that after her indiscretion with Lord Moresby. She went off to the Netherlands for two years. One sees her everywhere now.”
“Lady Winsome is not going to the Netherlands, Grandmama. I am tiring of this going round in circles.”
“Who said anything about the Netherlands?”
“You did.”
“Not for Lady Winsome,” the dowager said, shaking her head at him as if he were a dolt. “I’m thinking of Brazil. St. John was here this afternoon and he’s got the ambassadorship. He has graciously offered to step into this situation and rescue us all.”
Leland had his back to his grandmother as he sorted through letters laying on the table in the hall. He whipped round to her. “He offers to graciously step in?”
“Well why not? He likes her well enough and she’s got enough money. It will be good for her and good for him. Everybody wins.”
“Do not be absurd.”
“He is going to pose the question this very night, and if Lady Winsome has a sensible bone in her body she will accept. Furthermore, if you really had a care for the lady you would wish to do right by her. She must take herself out of view for an extended period if she is ever to recover her place in society.”
“Richards!” he shouted toward the stairs. “I will be in my domino and off in the next quarter hour. Somebody get a horse saddled.”
“Do not tell me you go to see her,” the dowager said. “Have some control over yourself.”
“I am going to see St. John. And as for control, perhaps look inward, Madam.”
Leland took the stairs two at a time. His valet had the domino laying on the bed at the ready and he was quickly changed.
The dowager made one last effort to stop him from going to St. John, with the ever-present Miss Price fanning herself as if the sky was falling. He paid them no mind and set off.
He trotted through the dark streets and thought of what he would say to St. John.
He’d like to pound him, but would rather not end up on a green over it.
He was by far the superior shot and equally skilled with a sword, but St. John could be impetuous and might throw all caution to the wind.
If he did, St. John would not survive the encounter.
Unlike what his grandmother thought, Leland was not over-worried that St. John would get anywhere in attempting to press his ridiculous suit.
No, it was that St. John was the author of all this trouble, he was sure of it.
St. John, for selfish and venal reasons, had damaged a blameless lady’s reputation and then would have the unmitigated gall to pretend to rescue her from it.
As if marriage to that man would be a rescue of any sort.
St. John was too concerned with his own wellbeing to have a care for a wife.
His wants and needs took precedence above all else.
Whoever he eventually talked into it would end up miserable.
St. John would forever chase the money, whether at cards or the stupid idea he had of mining precious stones.
Perhaps Leland ought to pay him off? He would not like to do it, but his cousin must be got rid of in some manner. First, though, he would ensure that St. John knew he’d been exposed in all his villainy.
He dismounted his horse, handed the reins to a groom, and banged on the door. He was admitted by St. John’s rather startled butler who claimed St. John was not at home.
Leland did not have to guess if that were true of not, as St. John had just appeared at the top of the stairs. It seemed he was dressed as an old king. Henry the VIII, no doubt. Very fitting.
“What do you do here, Manderbey?” he asked in a suspicious tone.
“I would have a private word,” Leland said.
St. John seemed to debate his response, then he said, “Very well, go into the drawing room. I will attend you after my valet puts the finishing touches on my costume, which is clearly more elaborate than your own.”
With that, St. John disappeared down a corridor. Leland supposed he did not have much choice but to wait, as he would get this matter settled.
The butler led him into the drawing room and closed the door. Leland looked around, noting the signs everywhere of a man in financial straits. He’d even sold some paintings, as evidenced by the darker squares of wallpaper that had not had the same exposure to sunlight.
As he stood in the silence, he began to think he heard whispering in the hall. He walked to the window to be certain St. John was not attempting to slip out of the house.
A few minutes later, the butler came back into the room with a tray and a glass of brandy. “My lord, Lord St. John’s valet is struggling the smallest bit with Lord St. John’s crown. It is too big and he is making adjustments. Lord St. John begs your patience.”
His crown, indeed. His cousin was a puffed-up idiot. At least he could be counted on to have decent brandy. St. John’s pockets might be empty but his tastes had remained rich.
Leland took the glass and downed it in one gulp. Then he coughed. There was a bitterness underneath the brandy that came as an aftertaste. It was revolting.
He stared at the butler, who stared at him back. “What is in this?” Leland said.
Rather than answer, the butler backed out of the room and closed the door.
As the bitterness settled on his tongue, he understood what it was. Laudanum, and quite a lot of it. If he sipped it, he might have been all right, but he hadn’t. He swallowed it all.
He had to get on his horse and get home before the worst effects overwhelmed him. He could take an emetic when he got to his house and might still be all right.
Leland made his way to the door. It was locked. The devil. He could already feel the effects beginning to steal over him. He did not have much time.
He staggered to the window. It was a long drop down to pavement. What were the chances of coming out of that sort of fall without a broken leg or broken head? And where was his horse? The groom had taken his horse somewhere. It would leave him to walk home and he’d never make it.
His head was clouding over rapidly. He staggered to the sofa and the room began to dim.
*
Winsome was ever so cheered. She and her sisters had been very merry.
The six of them had squeezed into one carriage, leaving the duke to take the other.
Valor had made a great show of waving them off in what Winsome supposed was meant to be a dignified manner, though there was nothing much dignified going on inside the carriage.
They had giggled and poked each other and whispered as if they were children again. It was so comforting to be all together!
Felicity said Stratton was terrified of encountering the feminine horde coming in force. He claimed he did not know what it was all about, but it was bound to be something hair-raising.