Lady John (23 page)

The Earl was discovered at breakfast, which he took alone in
his library. Having no brandy on his conscience to trouble his appetite,
Mardries was partaking heartily of a sizable meal, and offered hospitably
enough to share it with his visitors. Lord Kit, staring at his host’s crimson
Turkish dressing gown, blue Turkish slippers embroidered with dragons, and the
interestingly wrought gold-embroidered cap which sat on his balding head,
demurred somewhat shakily; Menwin agreed to partake of some coffee. In
companionable fashion the three gentlemen sat, discussing an auction at
Tattersall’s the week before, while Mardries finished with his meal.

“Well, Matthew,” the Earl said at last, “What is it? I
misdoubt you have come merely a-purpose to pay a social visit before noon, when
you obviously have a head like thunder on your shoulders. You too, Temperer,”
he added shrewdly. “Not but what I’m flattered by the attention, of course.”

Menwin and Kit exchanged a long look.

“Have you discovered more debts of your father’s, boy? Ye’d
as well lay the budget out full before me. I’m no ogre, you know.” Mardries
leaned back in his chair and inspected his grandson.

“I know that, sir. But what I have to say—no, as far as
Brigham and I have been able to discover, you know the full of Father’s debts.
And Richard’s and my own. What I have to say, sir, concerns Miss Casserley.”

Mardries’s amiably narrow countenance became suddenly
watchful. “How d’ye mean, Matthew?”

“Sir, I find myself in the most damnably awkward position,
and believe me, I have tried to find ways of altering it. I finally came to the
conclusion that the only way to deal with the matter was to speak with you,
make my case clear, and let you act your part as you see fit. I am prepared to
accept the full responsibility for the matter, but—”

“That’s all very admirable, Matthew, but what
is
the matter?” Mardries rasped impatiently. “Have
you done something to insult Miss Casserley?”

Reflecting inwardly that he had done all in his power to do
so, without success, Menwin shook his head. “But sir, after having known Miss
Casserley for near a six-month, and having made every effort—sir, I do not
believe that we will suit each other.”

The old man regarded his grandson with scornful disbelief. “You
do not believe you will suit?” he mimicked angrily. “The engagement has been
announced for I-dunno-many weeks and you only now come to that conclusion?”

Menwin nodded mutely. For a moment grandfather and grandson
regarded each other in stony silence, oblivious of Kit Temperer’s presence in
the room. Menwin was marshaling his thoughts to explain to his grandfather what
the situation was, and to speak of Olivia, when the door was opened and a
footman appeared.

“Beg pardon, m’lord,” the man said uneasily, aware of the
tension in the room. “But Lord Whelke is arrived, asking to see ’is young lor’ship.”
The man nodded in Menwin’s direction. “Lord Whelke said the matter was
particularly urgent, m’lord,” he added.

Mardries turned to his grandson. “Suppose you tell Whelke
what you just told me, hey? Have the stomach for that?” He turned again to the
man at the door. “By all means, Darby, send Lord Whelke in.”

Darby bowed and withdrew. A moment later Lord Whelke,
looking very much perturbed, scurried into the library. He made apologies to
Mardries for the hour of his call and explained: “I stopped in Green Street to
see you, Menwin, and was told you’d come here. Wouldn’t have troubled you
except that—” and there he stopped.

“Have some coffee, Frederick,” Lord Mardries advised. “I
think my grandson has something to say to you, too.”

But Lord Whelke waved away both the coffee and Menwin’s
news. “Don’t know how to tell you this, Menwin. Wouldn’t have thought the gal
capable of it, myself. As for that Haikestill character—”

Immediately Menwin sat bolt upright. “Do I collect, sir,
that something has happened to Miss Casserley?” It was difficult to keep the
hope from sounding in his voice, and Kit Temperer, forgotten in his seat
nearby, leaned forward to hear.

Whelke gave a shrug of futility or resignation. “The chit’s
bolted, Menwin. That’s the long and short of it. Went to bed early last night
saying she was fagged to death with all this socializing. And left us a note
saying she’d gone to Gretna with someone named Haikestill. Claire says she
knows the fellow; I can’t recall meeting him myself, but—”

“An excellent fellow,” Kit Temperer broke in. “Very
sensible, well informed. I understand he has some property, too.”

Mardries and Whelke turned to stare at Lord Kit, who sat
back in his chair apologetically.

“I don’t know whether to go after her or wash my hands of
her entirely. Claire’s still in Hill Street, in hysterics, with Phoebe running
back and forth with the vinaigrette and laudanum and I know not what all. My
Janie, that always seemed so levelheaded, to do a thing like this!”

Menwin, stunned by this startling and gratifying news,
regained his voice. “I fully sympathize with you for the trouble this event is
causing in your family, Whelke,” he began at last. “I only hope that it can be
made to come right in the end. But I must confess that for some time I had
suspected that Miss Jane and I would not suit. It seems,” he added dryly, “that
she was aware of that, too. I beg you will not disrupt yourself on my account,
sir. If I can be of assistance to you, or to Lady Whelke, I beg you will call
upon me. But if Miss Jane has found a more certain route to her own happiness
than marriage to me, I am very happy for her.” How happy, Menwin hoped that
Lord Whelke would never have the mortification to suspect. As it was, the man
was now lying back in his chair, near panting with the exertion his daughter’s
defection had put him to.

“But what shall I tell Claire?” Whelke asked finally.

“Tell her to make the best of it, Whelke. Nothing to be
done, and I’m certain that with a little contriving you and Lady Whelke will
scrape through on this pretty neatly. First thing I suggest is to put an
announcement in the
Gazette
announcing the
termination of my grandson’s engagement to your daughter.” Lord Mardries had
risen and, kindly but firmly, was escorting Lord Whelke to the door. “I shall
call on you later, Frederick, and see if I cannot assist you in your
difficulties. But just at the present I think I had best—err, console my
grandson.”

Dazedly Whelke nodded, allowing himself to be shown to the
door by Darby. Mardries returned to the library.

“You needn’t think this lets you off from our bargain,
Matthew,” he began. “If I thought it possible that you had some hand in this—”
he eyed his grandson suspiciously, but found no obvious signs of guilt on his
countenance. “Very well, so your betrothal to Miss Casserley is necessarily at
an end. I still mean for you to marry. And soon.”

Menwin smiled. “I will be delighted to follow your wishes,
Grandfather. I have just the candidate for you.”

Mardries frowned. “Like that, is it? I warn you, boy, I shan’t
stand for an opera dancer or a convenient as the next Countess of Mardries.”

Now Kit Temperer spoke up. “I believe, my lord, that the
lady Menwin refers to is the widow of my brother John. A very handsome,
charming, and eminently respectable female.” He spoke with unaccustomed
hauteur, and even Mardries was taken aback.

“Quite so, Temperer. Beg your pardon.” He returned to
Menwin. “When can you bring this paragon of a widow for my inspection, Matthew?”

A little giddily Menwin rose to his feet. “As soon as I can,
sir. I shall go now and apprise her of what has happened. But, Grandfather, you
should understand that I intend to marry Olivia Temperer with or without your
blessing. I should prefer to do so with your consent, of course, and I think
that when you meet her you will love her near as well as I do. But if we must
live in a reduced fashion for a few years, we shall do so.”

Mardries snorted. “Ye will, will ye? Well, bring the girl
here this evening to dinner if you can, Matthew. I hope she’s all you say she
is. Otherwise, you can get used to rented lodgings and poorly dressed dinners,
at least in
my
lifetime.”

This threat appeared to make little impression on Menwin, who
was halfway out the door when Lord Christopher rose to join him. The Earl,
watching the two younger men leave the room, cackled to himself: “By damn, he’s
catched at last!” Enjoying the joke in private for some moments, he went
upstairs at last to share it with his lady.

o0o

Menwin, once outside the house, started off briskly down
George Street in the direction of Queen Anne’s Street, with Kit Temperer
laboring behind him to catch up. At last, in frustration, Lord Christopher
called to his friend to wait.

“They ain’t
there,
Matt.
Was going to tell you: Livvy and her mother were to come to Portman Square this
morning to visit Mother,” Kit explained breathlessly. With less reason for
elation than Menwin, his dissipations of the night before were still taxing
him, and proceeding down the street at a trot was not agreeable. “Slow down,
for God’s sake. They’ll be there when we arrive.”

Menwin agreed to slow his pace, and in a matter of a few
minutes he and Lord Kit had arrived in Portman Square, seeking Olivia. She was
to be found closeted with the Duchess, they were informed. Needing no further
encouragement both Menwin and Kit charged up the stairs, Kit in the lead, while
the footman stood helplessly at the bottom, calling after: “My Lord! Lord Kit!
For Gawd’s sake, ’er Grace ain’t even dressed yet!”

The clamor the two men made, racing up the stairs and
calling loudly for Olivia, would have woken anyone from a sound sleep. As it
was, the Duchess sent Glessock into the hallway to intercept them while she
slipped a dressing gown over her negligee and made herself more presentable.
She had barely resettled herself, with the assistance of Olivia and Lady
Susannah, when both the men burst into her chamber.

“Well, boys, I collect you have a
good
reason for this informality?” the Duchess
drawled.

Unheeding, Menwin went directly to Olivia, took her hand,
and drew her up to stand before him. “Livvy, love, if I told you I was a free
man, would you marry me?”

“Are you, Matthew?” she asked. And upon his nod she smiled. “In
a minute.”

“Thank God,” he breathed. Then, looking round at the others,
the Duchess, Lady Susannah, Kit, and a much scandalized Glessock, “You’ve all
heard her. You are well and truly committed, my darling.” And, disregarding the
company, bent his head and kissed her.

When, after a moment, Judith Tylmath said pettishly that
this romantic idiocy was all very well, but
she
wanted
to know what on earth had happened, Menwin raised his head and, still holding
Olivia tightly in his arms, explained: “Miss Casserley has done me the honor to
elope with Mr. Haikestill.”

The amazement this announcement produced in all the
audience, including Lady John, was highly gratifying; everyone demanded more
information. Menwin, exchanging loving looks with his newly betrothed, was not
particularly eager to tell his story to anyone but Olivia at the moment, and
the Duchess offered them the privacy of her dressing room. “But only if,” she added,
“Kit knows enough of this brangle to be able to explain it to me. I will not be
gainsaid!”

Oblivious, Menwin and Olivia retreated to the dressing room,
while Lord Christopher assured his mother that he knew the whole of the story
and would not hesitate to tell it to her. The last words Olivia heard were
something about “the old martinet’s face when he heard the news.” Then the door
closed behind them, and Olivia was left, breathlessly, with Matthew.

“Who,” she asked unsteadily, “is the old martinet?”

Menwin broke from his bemusement long enough to answer, “I
collect Kit means my grandfather, love.”

“Matthew, was he terribly angry over all this?”

“I suspect that at the last he was rather pleased, for more
than one reason. You see, I went there this morning to cry off from my
engagement to Jane Casserley.”

“No, Matthew, you could not do such a thing!” Olivia
murmured, both gratified and shocked.

“I meant to do exactly such a thing, my dear, but you see
that Miss Jane and your former suitor saved me the necessity for it, which I
thank them for devoutly. Should you very much dislike to dine in Montagu Square
this evening with him and my grandmother?”

“I should not dislike it in the least. Is it all truly
settled, then?”

Menwin smiled. “It is truly settled, love. And frankly, I
find it excessively tiresome of you to dwell upon my grandfather when I would
much prefer that you dwelt upon me for a time.”

Olivia apologized wordlessly, drawing him down for a kiss
that left both of them trembling. “We’ve a good deal of catching up to do,
Matthew.”

“Two years, I recall. I look forward to it.”

“So do I.” She ran one hand along the back of his neck and
into his hair. “Do you know, I have always admired the back of your neck?”

Menwin laughed, pleased with this heretofore unsuspected
facet of his love’s personality. “Have you, darling?”

“It was the first thing I recognized at Catenhaugh that
evening,” she assured him.

“Damn, I’ve a quantity of apologizing still to do. Can you
ever forgive me for my beastly behavior to you?”

“I forgave you, as I recall, in the withdrawing room at the
Whelkes’ card party,” Olivia reminded him, stroking his cheek. In answer Menwin
strengthened his clasp about her waist until they were breathlessly close. For
a long moment they looked into each other’s eyes. Then Olivia, suddenly shy,
struggled in his hold, and Menwin relaxed his arms just a little. “Matthew, you
know—”

“Yes?”

“Well, as Mr. Haikestill reminded me, I’m not a
girl.
You aren’t getting a virgin bride, and I
shall have many opinions on holding house, and marriage, and
other things
—” she blushed. “Ideas I might not
have had before I married John.”