Chapter Eighteen
Winsome and her sisters had surrounded Lord St. John. She was determined to pry answers out of him and her sisters appeared equally steadfast in the effort. Even Serenity, who would likely prefer to flee and cover her eyes, put a good face on it.
“How is it a gentleman comes to your house and yet you do not have conversation?” Winsome asked. “That does not ring true.”
Lord St. John nodded vigorously. “I really did not say anything to him. Except that I was busy.”
“Why should we believe you?” Verity asked.
“Believe me? Why would you not?” Lord St. John asked.
“I would not because I believe you to be the author of this terrible rumor about me having been compromised. I believe you are the one that locked me in the ladies’ retiring room, then you took advantage of Lord Landry’s absence from the party too, and invented a ridiculous story.
I believe you did all of that because you were after my dowry.
Now I think you’ve said some new outrage to drive him off, which is why he does not appear. ”
“Or worse,” Verity said.
Winsome turned to Verity. “Worse? Do you think this rogue would have done something to Lord Manderbey?”
“I do not believe we can put anything beyond Lord St. John at this point,” Felicity said.
“He has proved himself to be a villain,” Grace added. “Who knows what a villain might do.”
“Winsome will know better than anybody,” Verity pointed out. “From her novels.”
“We ought to beat the truth out of him,” Patience said, as they all moved closer to him.
“I do not generally approve of violence, but I will avert my eyes,” Serenity said.
Winsome leaned close to Lord St. John. “Where is he? What have you done with Lord Manderbey? If you do not tell me this minute, I will make certain that my father involves himself in your life. He will see to it that you are stripped of the ambassadorship, every bit of your villainy will be widely known, and you will be drummed out of society. You will have no chance whatsoever of recovering your finances, which is the only thing you have ever cared for. No mama would allow a daughter within a mile of you so that avenue will be cut off. We will utterly ruin you.”
Her sisters closed the circle round Lord St. John tighter. “Ruin you,” the sisters all whispered.
“Stop it!” Lord St. John cried. “I don’t know what happened to him.”
“When did he leave your house?”
The guilt that passed over Lord St. John’s features at that moment gave Winsome the idea that Lord Manderbey might not have left the house at all. “What did you do? Have you locked him your cellars? Have you injured him in some way?”
Lord St. John took that moment to break free. He knocked Serenity to the ground and ran from the ballroom.
Patience pulled Serenity to her feet as onlookers stared.
“We must go there,” Winsome said. “We must discover if Lord St. John has done something.”
“He must have,” Verity said. “He was terrified that we wanted to know when the lord left his house.”
The duke pushed in and said, “What was that all about? Are you girls handing out the what-fors to our hapless lothario?”
“Papa,” Winsome said, “Lord St. John has done something, but we do not know what. Lord Manderbey went to his house this evening and has not been seen since. Lord St. John refuses to confirm that he spoke to him or if he even left.”
“And Papa,” Felicity said, “he was very pushy about wanting to talk to Winsome and mentioned what he called ‘the circumstances’ and hinted she ought to connect herself to him, as he’s now ambassador to Portugal.”
“My instincts tell me he’s done something,” Verity said. “This evening was his last try to convince Winsome to wed, and he wished for Lord Manderbey out of the way.”
“Agreed,” Grace said.
“I do not like to accuse,” Serenity said, “but I agree too.”
The dowager, who had followed the duke at a bit of a slower pace due to the drag of a heavy beaver coat, arrived to the party. “Why has St. John run out as if his hair is on fire? Lady Winsome, you did not refuse him? I am sorry to say I believe that unwise.”
Nobody answered the dowager. The duke said, “Let us depart in all haste. We will get to the bottom of this no matter how many houses we must visit.”
They hurried away, leaving the dowager staring after them in her absurd fur coat.
*
The world came back to Leland by degrees.
At first, he dozed and touched wakefulness and dozed again, unconcerned about where he might be or why.
Then he got the vague idea that he was on a sofa.
It was not like him to fall asleep in his drawing room.
He would not like his staff to find him in such a situation.
But then, it was really too hard to get up.
He could not seem to make his muscles work.
He could not keep his eyes open, so he stretched and went back to sleep.
Suddenly, he was shaken awake. St. John leaned over him. “You’ve got to go, get up, my carriage will take you home.”
St. John pulled him up sitting, his butler grabbed underneath his opposite arm.
“What…” Leland said, grasping at wispy ideas and thoughts.
“Come on now,” St. John said. “I don’t know why you went to sleep in my drawing room but you have to go home.”
“Wait…you—”
“I, nothing!” St. John said. “It’s not my problem you are indulging in…whatever it is you are indulging in.”
“I did not…you…”
He was hauled to his feet and the two men dragged him toward the door. They dropped him in the hall and Leland could hear the butler’s heavy breathing in his ear as they picked him up again.
What was St. John doing?
Out on the pavement, the butler got the carriage door open. As they attempted to get him into it, Leland heard the clip-clopping of a carriage coming to a stop and then a rather familiar and lovely voice.
“Lord Manderbey!” Lady Winsome cried.
*
Winsome felt a terror in her heart. It was as if one of her novels had sprung to life. She was certain Lord Manderbey was in danger and now the villain had made his escape from the ballroom. Thank heavens she had her sisters and her father by her side.
They had raced out of Lady Darlington’s house, all six of them flying by Lady Marchfield who was just coming in the doors. As was usual for their aunt, she was dressed in something queenly, though Winsome could not pin the costume down to any particular monarch.
As Lady Marchfield caught sight of them looking as if they were fleeing the evidence of a crime, she cried, “Roland! What have you done this time?”
“Set more curtains on fire,” the duke called over his shoulder, knowing his reputation for setting curtains ablaze, accidental or otherwise, irked his sister to the ends of the earth.
Lady Marchfield hurried toward the ballroom, presumably to put out a fire that never was.
They burst through the doors and onto the pavement. Winsome fretted over how long it would take to fetch their carriage. The duke had a better idea. Lady Wilton was just arriving with her friend Lady Layton.
“Lady Wilton,” the duke said, “we are in the midst of an emergency and must borrow your carriage.”
The lady, startled but the sort who always liked to be in the midst of the action, said, “Of course. Ought I to come with you?”
“No, no,” the duke said, pushing past her, “we will be quite the crowd as it is.”
That turned out to be very accurate and they only managed it by Serenity sitting on Felicity’s lap.
As they barreled toward Lord St. John’s house, the coachman having been instructed to make all haste, Winsome wrung her hands.
Nothing could happen to Lord Manderbey. If Lord St. John had harmed one single hair on his head, she would wring his neck.
Or if she could not manage that, she would ask Mrs. Right to do something terrible to him.
Thankfully, Lord St. John’s house was not far off. Winsome leaned out the window as they approached and saw Lord St. John and his butler attempting to force Lord Manderbey into a carriage.
“Papa, he looks hurt and they are kidnapping him!”
“They’re trying to hide him,” the duke said. “St. John would have guessed we might turn up. Shame I didn’t collect my pistol.”
“There are six of us and two of them,” Winsome said. “We can overpower them.”
The rest of her sisters nodded in solidarity. Patience even pushed up her sleeves to be at the ready.
The carriage skidded to a stop and Winsome leapt out of it. “Lord Manderbey!” she cried.
St. John and his butler froze. Lord Manderbey shook them off and turned.
“Lady Winsome,” Lord Manderbey said. He bowed and then promptly dropped to the ground, lifeless.
“What have you done to him?” Winsome said, running to him and pushing St. John out of the way.
“Nothing!” Lord St. John cried, in a voice an octave higher than his usual. “It’s not my fault he overindulges!”
The duke took Lord St. John by the coat collar.
“And yet, somehow, I believe it is your fault. Now listen here, you rogue, I understand you are shortly to be off for Brazil. You are to take yourself out of London tonight. If you do not, you will lose that ambassadorship faster than a strong wind takes a hat.”
“But I—”
“There is no further need for conversation. Go inside, pack, get out. This house had better be empty when I return on the morrow.”
“Come, my lord,” St. John’s butler said. “Come inside.”
Presumably, the butler did lead St. John back into the house. Winsome did not see it, as she was wholly focused on Lord Manderbey.
He slowly opened his eyes. “Oh, how do you do?” he said to Winsome.
“Are you all right?” she asked, grasping his hand.
“Fine, fine, say, do you want to get married?”
“Hold on, now,” the duke said.
“Papa!” Winsome said. Why on earth was he interrupting at such a moment?
“It’s a fine sentiment, Manderbey, but it cannot be said in the condition you are currently in. You must say it when you are not under the influence of…whatever you are under the influence of.”
“Laudanum, Your Grace,” Lord Manderbey said, his head lolling back.