Chapter 10
Ten
When Jack went to his sister’s house to arrange for Lucy’s luggage to be moved, he didn’t stay long, being in no mood for more apologies, explanations, hysterics, or discussions of Min’s character.
He gave his instructions for her belongings, then informed his peevish sisters of the brilliant plan he’d devised upon leaving Miss Sedgewick’s house.
“People will wonder why Min has left your house, Nell. Bound to. Be the talk of the town, especially after Nora’s ridiculous performance last night.”
“Me!” cried Nora. “I was not the one who fell over two steps into a simple country dance!”
“I wish you had! I wish you’d fallen out of the window.
” He ignored the wail this produced and continued, directing a stern look at his eldest sister.
“I’ll not be having any gossip about Min.
The story you’ll put about is this: Nora has contracted an influenza.
Which goes some way to explaining her behaviour last night—the girl was feverish.
Miss Fanshaw, having always been susceptible to inflammation of the lung, has moved to Miss Sedgewick’s house to avoid infection.
It turns out,” he added with a flourish of inspiration, “that they happen to know each other. And they might, you know, because the Sedgewicks have family up that way, and Miss Sedgewick knows everyone.”
Nell sniffed at this. “Miss Sedgewick’s broad and undiscerning acquaintance is hardly a point in her favour.”
“You’re only jealous because Brummell and his set like her, whereas he thinks you’re a damp stick.”
“That is not,” she said meaningfully, “my reason for disliking her.”
Choosing to ignore this jibe at his romantic aspirations, he continued.
“Nora will be ill for at least two weeks, by which time any remembrance of the disaster at Almack’s will be largely forgotten and she can re-emerge into society and begin more or less afresh.
At that point, you’ll pay a call on Miss Fanshaw and apologise deeply and profusely.
” He fixed his eye on his pouting younger sister. “Both of you.”
“I hardly see how anyone is going to believe I have the influenza when I’m engaged at the Howarth’s rout tonight,” said Nora.
“That engagement is cancelled. So are all others. You’re not to stir from this house for two weeks.
And that,” he continued loudly as she began to protest, “is small enough punishment for the mischief you’ve caused.
I ought to pack you back to Herefordshire and let Mother deal with you.
And I will, if you ever do anything like it again. ”
A shriek followed him from the room, as did the thump of something hitting the door he closed behind him.
A shoe? A book? With a wince, he walked away, feeling a nagging sense he might possibly have handled the conversation better.
But sisters! Nell ought to be Ashburton’s responsibility, and Nora ought to be his mother’s.
But Ash was no match for his wife, and Mother was too ill to travel, and he supposed that made them both his responsibility, much as the thought made him shudder. And now Min too…
He couldn’t feel entirely comfortable at leaving her to Miss Sedgewick’s care.
The woman herself was an angel, of course, had never been involved in the least scandal, despite her lively manners.
But she was constantly in society and mixed with everyone from royal dukes to mad, penniless poets.
And she said the most outrageous things—things she alone could get away with, for she was known as a wit, her character and reputation understood.
But if little Min sought to do likewise…
He would have to keep a close eye on her, wouldn’t he? She didn’t know London. She didn’t know who among Miss Sedgewick’s wide society would smile at an impertinence and who would snub her for the smallest misstep.
But it would hardly be a chore to follow her around.
They had seven years to catch up on, after all.
And she was just a little kitten… Wasn’t she lovely?
He walked briskly home to re-dress and tidy his appearance, having left the house that morning in too much of a hurry even to shave.
He stood at the edge of Piccadilly, waiting for his moment to cross the busy street, and couldn’t help but laugh.
What a panic he’d been in! And there she’d been, his stray little puss, safe as anything, right in Miss Sedgewick’s parlour.
He couldn’t have arranged it better himself. The only two women in London he gave a straw for, and there they were, both together. How wonderfully convenient.
Dodging a barrow woman who’d decided to take a rest right there in the middle of the pavement, he tossed a coin to a beggar child and carried on, very pleased at the inviting prospects his imagination conjured up for these next few weeks.
Seeing Miss Sedgewick daily. Walks in the park, visits to the theatre, and he could take them both driving.
Min would have to admit he’d improved since he’d driven her pell-mell around their village with her clutching the seat beside him, denying she was terrified no matter what he’d done to try and make her squeak.
Lord, but he’d been a wretch!
He’d make it up to her. He’d show her how much he’d improved in other ways too.
For example he…well. He couldn’t quite think exactly what might impress her, but there was bound to be something.
He was a grown man. He had a whole life here.
He’d find a way to make her laugh, and they’d be friends again, and everything would be right in the world.
When Jack reached home, his butler informed him there were letters on his desk, just as he did every day.
“Thank you, Dalcher,” replied Jack, as he also did every day. “I’ll look at them later.”
And he sometimes did, reading the interesting ones written by friends or enclosing cards of invitation. Of late, though, there’d been an increasing number from Mr Blatherstock, his man of business, and they were generally depressing. Or confusing. Or both. He really ought to employ a secretary.
Properly dressed, and finally having had his breakfast, he sallied forth once more, walking to George’s house and finding the man at his desk, where he was looking over some dull accounts.
But from the pale face he raised on Jack’s entrance and the hasty way he stood up, asking, “Did you find her?” his mind hadn’t been entirely engaged on his work.
“She’s quite safe. She’s gone to ground at Caroline’s house, of all places.”
“Miss Sedgewick?” George said, sitting back down.
Jack also took a seat, across the desk from him. “Neat and tidy, isn’t it?” He gave a crooked smile. “I was pressed most earnestly to visit frequently and see how Miss Fanshaw gets on.”
George offered no comment. He’d always maintained decidedly neutral ground on the question of Jack and Caroline, something which amused Jack more than it annoyed him.
“They have no former acquaintance, I believe?” George asked instead.
“None, other than meeting at Almack’s last night. But Caroline can make a friend of anyone, and she’s already promised Min art and artists, so she’ll be as happy as a clam. Indeed, she’s stuck as fast as a barnacle. I tried to take her back to Nell’s, but she refused.”
“You can hardly blame her.”
“No,” agreed Jack. Then he laughed. “But how ungenerous of you to my sister’s company!”
“But, Jack, after that argument…”
“Yes, poor Min is apparently an artful, title-grabbing strumpet, determined to ensnare me by any means, foul or fair.”
“She’s nothing of the sort!” George exploded. Then, blushing, he added, “I mean…that is to say…I only met her briefly and she seemed to me…erm…a very pleasant, gentle sort of girl.”
Jack eyed him, smiling. “Go on, George, don’t stop there. It’s hardly poetry, but I’m enjoying it immensely.”
George pulled a face, very red about the ears. Jack laughed.
“Never mind, I’ll do the job myself. Min is a dear, sweet girl, entirely incapable of dishonesty.
And what’s more, having known me since birth, knowing all my faults, knowing that I am, in fact, as she so often used to call me, a horrible boy, she’s the last person in the world who’d ever wish to marry me, even if I were a duke. ”
“You think so?” said George, looking at him strangely.
“Of course! It’s a miracle she ever consented to be friends with me. But there you go, as I already said, she’s all sweetness and heart, and I’ve never really deserved her.”
George was still staring at him, but he made no reply, turning a few pages absently in his ledger.
“What?” prompted Jack. “You know it’s true.”
“That you have friends you don’t deserve?” He grinned. “Oh, undoubtedly.”
Jack laughed at that.
“Come on,” he said, standing up. “You can’t mean to spend the whole day stuck at that desk. Let’s go and see how the ladies fare.”
“But we’re engaged to meet Parling at the Dragon and go to Richards’, remember? I was about to get ready to leave when you arrived.”
“Are we? Blast. Alright, then we’ll call on Min afterwards. I was given a free invitation to that house, and I mean to make use of it.”
It was evening by the time Jack managed to shake off his friends and walk, with George, to Miss Sedgewick’s house. They arrived to find the ladies busily engaged in a small room, rearranging it into what appeared to be an artist’s studio, boxes and canvases and easels everywhere.
He paused on the threshold, wincing at the sound of a desk being pushed over the floorboards before leaping in to relieve the ladies of the task. “Where’s William?” he asked Caroline. “This seems like something your footman ought to help with.”
“He already has more than enough work. And we can manage, can’t we, Lucy?”