A Wedding In Springtime

chapter Sixteen





“George!” Genie flung her arms around a well-built young man and gave him a good squeeze. “Whatever are you doing here?”

“Took a break from school and thought I’d come see you.” The young man was tall, well-proportioned, and if his coat was not cut with the exacting precision of the latest mode, he at least filled it out better than most young gentlemen of the ton. His hair was dark and short, a contrast to his sea blue eyes.

“Do you mean you have a break from university or you are taking a break?”

George gave a guilty smile. “I needed a break. Too many books, makes me batty.”

“So of course you decided to meet me at the lending library,” laughed Genie. She had responded to George’s note by agreeing to meet him the next day at Hookham’s Lending Library.

“I suppose that was poor planning on my part.”

“Does Father know you are here, Brother dear?”

“No, course not!” He took her hand and pulled her gently into a secluded corner of the room and lowered his voice to speak privately. “What’s this I hear of your debut? What happened?”

“Oh, please tell me the news has not traveled all the way to Oxford.”

“Aunt Cora wrote to Mum and she wrote me concerned.”

Genie sighed. She was tired of telling this story. It was good to see her brother, but she was not pleased at how her failure was becoming well known even outside of London. Had people nothing better to do? “I laughed in front of the queen.”

“And?” prompted George.

“And nothing. I laughed. She did not find it amusing, and that made me laugh harder.”

“You are in trouble for laughing? What an odd lot these town folk are.”

Genie shrugged. “I did not make a positive impression with the queen and that is apparently enough to become a social pariah.”

“So go back home. You’re in no need of anyone’s good opinion.”

“Go home after only a few weeks here? After the way Mama was forced to leave London? She was so hoping I could restore the family name by being accepted in society. How could I possibly face her?”

“Got a point there. Tell you what, I’ll think on it for you.”

Genie gave her younger brother another little hug. His presence was comforting, even if he could hardly do anything to repair the damage she had done.

“Shall we walk back to Bremerton house for tea?” asked Genie. “I should like to introduce you to our cousin Louisa whom you have never met.”

“No, no, and I’ll thank you not to let anyone know I am here. If Aunt Cora sees me, she’ll write Mother before the tea gets cold.”

“I suppose you are right,” conceded Genie. “But where are you going to stay? What are you going to do?”

“I came down with some friends from school. They know some places for amusement.”

“Please tell me you are not going to visit one of those filthy gaming”—Genie searched for a word that was not a synonym of Hades—“a gaming establishment.”

“Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m about.”

But Genie did worry. Particularly if her baby brother—he would always be that to her—was going into one of those gambling hells, known for preying on young men.

“I have heard horrible things that happen in those places,” said Genie.

“Yes, I’ve heard that too. Why else would I want to go?”

“George!”

George smiled, looking all the more endearing for being naughty. “I’ll be careful, but I must be allowed some fun. I’m going about as Mr. Smythe—isn’t it a famous scheme? No one will know I am here. I’ll get to have a lark and return to Oxford before anyone is the wiser.”

Genie sighed. “I miss the time when a rocking horse was all you needed for amusement.”

“Maybe if you made me a big one.” George smiled. “Maybe I can help you too.”

“How would you do that?”

“Don’t know. But I should think myself quite flat if I didn’t at least make an effort to help my favorite sister.”

“I am your only sister.”

“See? Your place in my heart is forever secure!”

Brother and sister talked for a while longer before George offered to hail Genie a hack to take her back home. When they left the library, the Comtesse de Marseille looked up from a particularly large volume with a particularly wicked smile.

***

“Must I be present?” asked the duke the next day over tea.

“Yes.” The dowager unlocked the tea caddy and carefully mixed a blend of teas to suit her.

“There is no option?”

“We have invited Lord and Lady Bremerton, Lady Louisa, and Miss Talbot. Of course you must be present.” The dowager poured hot water into the teapot to warm the vessel.

“And who else will be at the table?”

“A few gentlemen, no one for you to be concerned about.” As part of the plot to find Genie a husband, the dowager and Penelope had planned a dinner party of eligible men. The dowager had waited until teatime to let her grandson know his presence was required.

“Do I need to keep guessing or are you going to tell me what plot you are hatching?” Marchford glanced between the dowager and Penelope, but neither spoke. The dowager appeared consumed in her duties as hostess, sprinkling the tea into the teapot and pouring fresh hot water over the top.

“Grandmother…” ground out Marchford.

“Do not ‘Grandmother’ me with such a tone,” rebuked the Dowager Duchess of Marchford. “After all I am only trying to help the family of your betrothed. You know that Eugenia’s presentation was less than optimal.”

Marchford raised an eyebrow. “Less than optimal indeed.”

“You needn’t be cruel,” chastised the dowager. “We must do what we can to help the family. If she can form an attachment soon, her reputation can be salvaged.”

Marchford nodded his head in understanding. “How do you two pick these young men to the slaughter? I beg you would indulge my curiosity.”

“We try to find young men who showed an interest in Miss Talbot or at least spoke to her,” said Penelope. “We look for men who are respectable, appear to have the qualities of a good husband, and might appreciate the dowry she brings. Also, considering her debut, a gentleman who lived primarily in the country might be a good fit.”

“I should not have asked. It is quite a business for you, is it not?” asked Marchford.

It was more business than he realized, but Penelope said nothing more. She was generally honest to a fault, but several years in Town had taught her to keep her own counsel when the situation called for it.

Penelope had expected a large fight over the lapse in the dowager’s funds, but she was mistaken. In person, the dowager and her grandson were perfectly civil and polite. They certainly never gave the servants any material for gossip. After the unfortunate incident where her rant was overheard by Lady Bremerton, the dowager had not spoken about money again. She had, however, exchanged a series of written messages with her grandson that often resulted in her exclaiming “bah!” and throwing the missive in the fire.

“I cannot be a bridegroom for Miss Talbot. Perhaps you can make my excuses,” suggested Marchford.

“I certainly cannot!” declared the dowager, placing a strainer over a teacup. “How would it look if Louisa were to come to dinner and you not be here? Besides, it will give you an opportunity to speak with her. A date must be set.” She poured the tea into the cup, straining away the tea leaves.

Marchford accepted a cup of tea from his grandmother and took a slow sip. “I recognize the understanding between Lady Louisa and the Duke of Marchford is of long standing, but even you must concede that the lady does not appear interested in the relationship. Would it be unacceptable to end the betrothal?”

“James!” The dowager clanked the teapot down on the table. “This marriage has been planned since before you were born. Louisa has been waiting for your return for three years. You cannot back out now. You are honor bound!”

“Even though the relationship would cause misery to the parties involved?”

“Misery? How could it cause misery unless you make it so? If you are displeased with the relationship, change it. Be charming. Crumpet?”

“Yes, please,” replied the duke, accepting the buttered crumpet. “She does not appear interested in my charm, such as it is.”

“What would you suggest? Can you imagine any situation in which you could honorably dissolve the understanding between you?”

Marchford took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. His posture diminished slightly, the only sign that he had been defeated. Penelope watched the pair of aristocrats from her vantage point over tea and cake. Although she was new to the dilemma, one thing was perfectly clear—it was not within Marchford’s power to end the contract.

“Have another slice of seed cake.” The dowager offered Marchford the platter. “I also had cook make some ham sandwiches. I know you often get hungry before dinner.”

Marchford accepted the sandwich but not without suspicion. “What is it you want?”

“Can I not offer refreshments without accusation? Are you going out this afternoon?”

“Yes, I am going with Grant to Tattersall’s. Our trip yesterday was postponed.”

“Good, then you won’t mind delivering this finalized guest list to Lady Bremerton.”

Marchford finished his tea. “I should have known I could not enjoy a ham sandwich without the expectation of repaying the favor.”

“I am merely giving you an excuse to visit Louisa. Did you not suggest you needed to charm her?”

“As you wish.” Marchford accepted the list.

“And another thing,” continued the dowager in a businesslike tone. “I was thinking about why Louisa might be put out. You know you have made her wait for marriage three long years. She is considerably past the age where most girls are wed. You need to make a formal announcement, set a date, and hold a ball to celebrate.”

Marchford eyed his meal. “That is a lot to ask for a sandwich.”

“James, it is time to commit.”

Marchford was spared making a reply by the announcement that Mr. Grant had arrived. Marchford bowed out of the room and met his friend in the foyer. Grant appeared less than his normal resplendent self. His hair was out of place, his cravat sadly crushed.

“I have been tasked to give this to Lady Bremerton. Would you mind stopping by on our way to Tatt’s?” asked Marchford.

Grant groaned.

“You mind telling me what is wrong?”

The men climbed onto Marchford’s curricle and Grant proceeded to tell him how he had acquired a child. The story was so remarkable, prompting Marchford to ask multiple questions, that Grant was unable to complete the tale before they arrived at the Bremerton household and were required to make an appearance.

Marchford discharged his duty, handing Lady Bremerton the guest list. Naturally they were invited to visit, and naturally they obliged. Despite the presence of Miss Talbot and Lady Louisa in the parlor, Lady Bremerton dominated the conversation. “I hear you are considering making some changes to your garden,” said Lady Bremerton.

Marchford acknowledged this was true.

“Why don’t you take a stroll through our garden, so you can get some ideas? Louisa has been instrumental in the placement of our new rose bushes.”

It was a clear ploy to get Marchford and Louisa to spend time together, but despite the apparent disinterest from either of the primary parties, the plan was accepted. Lady Bremerton bowed out of the excursion and so the young people went out into the garden.

The garden was quite beautiful with straight, manicured shrubs in neat lines and occasional rows of flowers, also neat and well manicured. After a few prods from Grant, Marchford took the hint and became more verbose, asking Louisa about the garden and describing his plans for his own garden expansion. Louisa responded infrequently, with hardly more than monosyllabic replies.

Genie and Grant held back to allow the betrothed time to foster their relationship, such as it was.

“I must thank you for encouraging Marchford to develop an acquaintance with his future wife,” said Genie when the dubious couple was out of hearing range.

“I believe the honor of this visit belongs to the scheming of the dowager duchess and Lady Bremerton.”

“Then I thank you for being one of the party. I am anxious to know how things are going with little Jem.”

Grant knew she would ask him and he was going to have to make a reply. He took her gloved hand and led her to a stone bench where they both sat down. He should release the dainty hand, but he did not, holding it loosely for fear he might crush her hand.

“Jem is quite a scamp. A more incurable heathen I have never met, which is saying quite a bit since I was educated at Eton,” added Grant.

Genie shook her head. “That is very bad. One can only hope he grows out of it.”

“Maybe he is growing. It would explain the appetite. Despite being fed here, he declared himself hungry and has been eating almost without ceasing. Must be hollow inside. He may beggar me on his board alone.”

“I do apologize for getting you into this predicament. I will certainly reimburse you for any expenses you incur in his upkeep.”

“Certainly not! Besides, the situation may be resolved, though perhaps not to your liking.”

“Has he caused any problems?”

Grant smiled. “My entire staff from the housekeeper to the cook threatened to quit if I did not find a new home for him.”

“Oh! That is very bad. Whatever did he do?”

“I put the lad in the charge of my housekeeper.”

Genie nodded in approval.

“Apparently, this morning, they tried to give him a bath.”

“Very reasonable,” said Genie in agreement. “He did appear to be in need of it.”

“He disagreed. A housemaid was bit, a footman has a black eye, and apparently the bath water was flung on François’s soufflé.”

“That is terribly bad!”

“Quite! You should have seen François. He brought me the soufflé, which had fallen something awful, and he was soaked through. The only one who did not take a bath today was Jem.” Despite the commotion it caused in his mother’s household, Grant could not think upon the incident without a smile.

Genie put her hands on her cheeks in an expression of dismay. “I am sorry I plagued you with such a child.”

“A plague! Yes, that is exactly what my housekeeper called him.”

“We shall definitely need to make better arrangements for him. Where is he now?”

“That is the part I fear will not please you. Jem took off running, with most of the staff in pursuit, destroying a vase in the process. Caused such a commotion I could not help but join in the fun. I chased the miscreant into the garden and over a hedge, but I fear I lost him.”

“You poor man! Well, that explains your cravat. I am very sorry.”

“Thank you for recognizing that the true victim here is me. I fear my cravat is a hopeless case.”

“You must let me at least reimburse you for the vase.”

“Oh no! Did us a favor there. My mother never liked it, but it was given to her as a wedding present by her mother-in-law. Been wanting it gone for years.”

“I am glad it was not of sentimental value.” Genie sighed. “I suppose we did our best. I felt sure I was being led to help this child, but I suppose we cannot help him if he will not allow it.”

“I’m sorry!” squeaked a small voice from under a nearby bush.

“Jem!”