Page 37 of Lady Beast's Bridegroom
“I will stay with Miss Pettigrew and watch the children,” Clara offered. Lady Deerhaven led the rest of them inside.
Peter would have spared Arial the cartoon if he hadn’t been certain that someone else would show it to her if he didn’t. Her reaction was not what he expected. “Poor Mr. Mandeville. You must be so embarrassed.”
Mandeville was pathetically grateful for her forbearance and apologized repeatedly until Lady Deerhaven interrupted. “Yes, yes, Mr. Mandeville. It is done now, and it is to be hoped you have learned from the experience, and in future will keep your mouth shut when you have promised to do so.”
He subsided into a wilted silence.
Lady Deerhaven had more to say. “For the most part, my dear Lady Ransome, this is easily managed. You were forced to consider an arranged marriage to protect yourself from that villain Stancroft, is that not correct?”
“It is,” Arial agreed.
Lady Deerhaven beamed. “Your solicitor presented you with a carefully vetted list, but nobody suited. Then your childhood sweetheart came along, and you were wed.”
She dusted her hands, though Peter doubted the marchioness had ever touched anything dirty in her life.
Lord Deerhaven beamed at his wife. “Well done, Cordelia. Stancroft becomes the villain, Mandeville the idiot, and the two of you the romance. Everyone will sympathize with you, I can assure you.”
“But if I admit it was me, everyone will know that it is I who spoke of the matter,” Mandeville objected.
Both Lord and Lady Deerhaven subjected him to a withering glance, lifting their eyebrows in unison. He subsided again.
The marchioness cast an imperious glance around. “Anything else?”
“No, Lady Deerhaven,” Arial told her. “We will do as you say.”
Lord Deerhaven added, “John, you may tell me that the baggage who has her claws into you had nothing to do with this reaching the caricaturist, but I shall not believe you. I shall not interfere if you mean to keep her, but if you want to be rid of her, then you could do worse than to discuss the matter with my lady wife, for she knows exactly how to deal with designing hellcats like that.”
“I say,” say Mandeville, “I cannot believe that the divine Miss Weatherall meant to cause any mischief. She spoke out of turn. Might have happened to anyone.”
John looked at him thoughtfully, then spoke to Lady Deerhaven. “Perhaps we might have that discussion now, Cordelia, if it suits you.”
Deerhaven ushered the rest of them out of the library. “Mandeville,” he said, “a word, if you please.”
Mandeville managed a nervous bow. “My lord.”
“This entire conversation was confidential, man. I trust you now understand what that means. You do not breathe a word of it. Not to anyone. Not in your cups, not when stone cold sober, not under any circumstances.” He paused to study the man, his brows slightly furrowed, then pressed his lips together and nodded.
“In fact, given that almost all of Society is going to be laughing at you by this evening, once that scurrilous bit of trash has made the rounds, a repairing lease in the country would be just the thing.”
“You mean…” Mandeville paled still further, which Peter would not have thought possible. Any moment, the man was going to pass out at their feet. “But do I need to tell people it wasme. Lady Ransome—the mask, and… well… But—You won’t tell people, will you?” He looked at each of them.
Peter thought he probably looked as inflexible as the marquis. “If people do not guess, Mr. Mandeville, you may depend upon it that Miss Weatherall will tell them.” If Society laughed, so be it. Peter certainly had no sympathy for the man.
But Arial was made of kinder stuff. “You are concerned about disappointing your brother. Is that it?”
Mandeville nodded, gratefully.
“You will have to tell him what has happened, of course, but tell him, too, that you are going to stay in Town and take responsibility for your mistake. You can make recompense to me, Mr. Mandeville, by being brave enough to admit to anyone who asks you what you have told us. That you were disappointed at not winning my hand, got drunk, and told someone in confidence of my attempts to arrange my own marriage. And that you are ashamed of your breach of confidence.”
“And your weak stomach,” Peter muttered, adding in a louder voice. “I don’t think he can be trusted, Arial.”
“I do,” Arial said. “Mr. Mandeville is very sorry, and he has learned his lesson. He was brave enough to come directly to you with the flyer, Peter.”
“I can do it,” Mandeville insisted. “I will do it. Thank you, Lady Ransome. I am so sorry for… I’ll do it. Thank you. Thank you.” He took his hat and gloves from the butler who had materialized to hand them to him, and allowed himself to be conducted from the house, still repeating his thanks.
“I need a drink after that,” Deerhaven announced. “Anything, Ransome? Lady Ransome?”
*
