Page 15 of My Own True Duchess
“Thank you, Mr. Tresham.” Theo wrapped Bea in a hug. The poor woman was shaking and her arms were cold. “I’ll see that her ladyship gets home.”
“Don’t, Theo,” Bea murmured. “You can make my excuses—the ham didn’t agree with me or something. Nobody will notice if I slip out. It’s after midnight, and…” Her voice trailed off as a shudder passed through her.
“We’ll remove to Hampshire,” Theo said, wishing somebody had delivered even a single kick to his lordship’s pride. “Or to the Hebrides.”
“While I hesitate to intrude on your plans,” Mr. Tresham said, “if I fetch her ladyship’s cloak, that will engender more talk than if another woman performs that courtesy. You, Mrs. Haviland, are the logical party to accomplish the task.”
“He’s right, Theo.” Bea drew back and rubbed her arms. “And you haven’t had supper yet.”
“Bother supper.”
And yet, Mr. Tresham’s plan made sense, which was why, fifteen minutes later, Bea had been bundled into the ducal coach, the Earl of Casriel at her side. Mr. Tresham’s friend had been happy to serve as escort, having, in his own words, an aversion to the minuet after midnight.
“Shall we pick over the remains of the buffet?” Mr. Tresham asked.
“I already have a plate,” Theo replied. “I seem to have misplaced my appetite.”
“That buffleheaded swine upset you. I really ought to have called him out.” Mr. Tresham sounded unhappy with himself for that decision.
“Her ladyship’s reputation would have suffered, regardless of the outcome. I cannot let good food go to waste,” Theo said, making her way back through the conservatory. “You are welcome to join me, even if I am hardly fit company.”
She was angry, with him, which made no sense, and with Davington, and of course, with Archie. Always with poor, departed Archie.
“Are you truly considering a move to Hampshire?”
“Yes.”
They’d returned to the bench where Theo had left her supper. She rearranged the furniture and resumed her place, Mr. Tresham taking the seat beside her.
The food had little appeal. Removing to Hampshire had no appeal at all. Theo tore off a bite of beef and stuffed it in her mouth.
“Before you finalize those plans,” Mr. Tresham said, “I have a proposition to put before you, if you’re willing to listen?”
“If you are thinking to make me your mistress, I’ll take a pistol to you myself, Mr. Tresham. I’m not yet that desperate, no matter how handsome and wealthy you might be.”
“You are not that desperate yet,” Mr. Tresham said, “which suggests soon you might be.”
* * *
“You need not see me home,” Lady Canmore said. “The coachman can set you down at your club.”
She was a beautiful woman, also an upset woman. The first quality was a matter of indifference to Grey Birch Dorning, Earl of Casriel. The second meant he must pay attention to the lady, lest he aggravate her mood. Casriel had only two sisters, but those sisters had seven brothers, and thus the earl had a thorough acquaintance with exasperated women.
“I was spared the details,” he said, “though I understand Tresham will ensure Lord Davington is on a packet for Calais by week’s end.”
Her ladyship gazed out the window, thus the occasional streetlamp illuminated a perfect feminine profile… also a tear trickling down her cheek.
“It doesn’t matter,” her ladyship said. “Davington can go to the Antipodes, and next week, another will take his place. I ought to dress in rags and carry a ferret, as Mrs. Haviland has suggested.”
Tresham hadn’t said anything about the countess being mentally unbalanced. “A ferret?”
“They have a disagreeable odor, my lord. Perhaps I can find a perfumer to bottle it for me so I can sell it as rake repellant.”
Dealing with a furious woman required courage. Casriel switched seats, taking the place beside her ladyship when his every instinct prompted him to leap from the moving coach.
“Davington behaved very badly, didn’t he?”
“Horridly, and the worst part is, Mrs. Haviland saw most of it, and Mr. Tresham had to intervene, and there was nearly a duel, and now I’m being escorted home like some truant scholar overdue for a birching. I’m also hungry.” She swiped at her cheek.
