24. No Memory of a Scandalous Tale #2
What followed was a spirited retelling of the escapade, with Johan and Miles vying to outdo the other in painting a picture of Lucinda’s audacious heroism in getting into the cellars and stealing away upstairs.
The return to Grosvenor Square was recounted, and how together the three had returned to create a distraction by which they could extricate Hound and Lady.
“Fortunately Alex found Lucinda alone in a passage and employing a little chaos from Peri, he got her out and back here.”
Lady Marlstone’s indignation rose with every detail, her protests of impropriety growing louder until Miles, with the air of a man delivering a coup de grace , reminded her it was she who had instilled in her goddaughter an unyielding devotion to the welfare of animals.
Profoundly shocked, the lady found herself unable to rebut the accusation.
Forced to concede her influence, she was left to marvel at her goddaughter’s daring.
“Well, my dear, it’s over to you, now,” she directed to Lucinda’s back across the room.
“What happened between leaving the cellar and meeting Alex in the passage?”
“I don’t know,” was the weak reply.
In his concern, Alex had followed Lucinda to the window. Outwardly, she was the picture of composure; only the rigid set of her shoulders betrayed her distress. Just as he was about to murmur some words of comfort, she turned abruptly and became startled by his nearness.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, stepping back a pace.
His hand moved instinctively as if to steady her, but she had already recovered herself and now looked resolved.
“In light of this midsummer madness, ma’am, I feel I must withdraw myself from your protection, at once,” she declared, chin lifted.
“The risk of scandal to The Society is too great, the cause too important. I cannot remain here any longer.”
This pronouncement was met with immediate protest, the gentlemen springing to their feet as though she had just threatened to throw herself into the Thames.
“Withdraw? Nonsense!” cried Miles, after gently shifting Peri to the hearthrug. “Not a soul beyond this room has the slightest inkling, upon my honor!”
“You cannot all possibly think so lightly of it! Someone at the Sixes & Sevens must have seen me—no establishment of that sort is entirely free of gossipers, and I must have been a sight in breeches and cap. Tattle will reach the ton before nightfall—you may depend upon it.”
Lady Marlstone turned to her favorite nephew. “Oh, Alex, is she right? Heavens above, the impropriety of it all!”
“There’s no impropriety if it is unknown,” Alex assured his aunt.
To Lucinda, he said: “You rescued an animal being held ransom for fraudulent debts. The Bittermanns would not want this information to become public knowledge. Come now, my dear,” said Alex, stepping closer to her.
“You must trust us. No one here would breathe a word of what transpired. If you wish to avoid scandal, I suggest you do what Lady Marlstone has always taught you: hold your head high and let the world see nothing but confidence.”
“But what of your coachman, Lord Sinclair—or Griffiths, Godmama?” Lucinda asked pragmatically. She kneeled beside Lady Arabella’s armrest and whispered very low, “Or Bessie, Godmama? Someone undressed me from that dreadful garb—surely they will talk.”
Johan said wisely, holding up his broad palms. “Unless one of us decides to pen a memoir—which, I assure you, we have no intention of doing—your secret is entirely safe, Miss Harrington.”
Lucinda turned her gaze upon him, her eyes flashing. “But you don’t know the English ton, sir. If word were to reach the patronesses, my reputation—my godmother’s reputation—”
“My dear child,” Lady Marlstone said calmly, patting her goddaughter’s hands, “Griffiths and Bessie have been with me for thirty years. Their devotion is beyond question. I daresay they would sooner swallow a pin than speak a word against you.”
As if summoned by providence—and the practical needs of tea—Griffiths entered with a silver tray, followed by two footmen carrying sandwiches, scones, and a jug of lemonade.
“Ah, Griffiths,” said Lady Marlstone smoothly, accepting a teacup. “Would you be so good as to remain a moment?”
Griffiths inclined his head. “Certainly, my lady.”
Once the footmen bowed themselves out, Lady Marlstone regarded her butler. “Griffiths, I would like to know if I can count on your discretion and discernment.”
Griffiths gave the barest nod.
“My goddaughter returned home yesterday evening in regrettable circumstances,” Lady Marlstone said delicately.
Griffiths looked at Lucinda, then back to his mistress. His expression did not shift, but his voice was dry and reassuring. “Miss Harrington was in want of rest and the attentions of a physician. However, given her recovery, I would not consider the event worthy of comment, my lady.”
“And you will not consider it so in future?”
“I have already forgotten it, my lady.”
Lucinda blinked. “Oh, Griffiths.”
He inclined his head once more. “It’s nice to see you looking so well, Miss Harrington.”
“Thank you, Griffiths. You may withdraw.” Lady Marlstone arranged herself against her cushions with the air of a general whose troops had proven staunch under fire.
“Well, my dear, we find ourselves quite secure in our conspiracy. The butler’s memory fails him, my Bessie is discretion itself, and as for these gentlemen—” She cast a speaking glance at the assembled party.
“—are all deaf, blind, and mute where you are concerned.”
Alex’s lips quirked into a grin. “Mute, perhaps, Aunt—but certainly not blind.” He captured Lucinda’s hand and bowed over it with a flourish worthy of Almack’s. “You may rest assured, Miss Harrington, that in our keeping you are guarded more jealously than the Crown Jewels.”
“Hear, hear!” Miles interjected with enthusiasm.
Lucinda allowed a half-laugh. “You are all very kind.”
Lady Marlstone sat forward, fixing Lucinda with a reproving gaze.
“My dear, I could not have wished for a more devoted ally in my charitable works. And it grieves me to think of you ever quitting my household, but let this be plainly understood: our compassion for God’s creatures must express itself through proper channels—campaigns and administration.
There will be no further evening escapades, no disguises, and most emphatically”—here her voice gained an edge of finality—“no venturing into gaming hells of any description! Am I understood?”
“It was madness, ma’am. I don’t know what came over me,” Lucinda replied meekly.