Page 90 of Marry in Secret
Poor Gerald... Cholera was a terrible way to go. Thomas was no stranger to death by cholera. But for his body to be sent home in a barrel, it must have broken Uncle Walter’s heart. “When you say Uncle Walter died on the hunting field, how exactly did it happen?” Uncle Walter had always been a punishing rider to hounds.
“I’m sorry, Thomas,” Lady Ashendon interrupted. “You must have a hundred questions for the—for your cousin, but we’re in the middle of a ball here, and I’m afraid it will cause a great deal of gossip if all the principals disappear for such a long time. You know what society is like.” She glanced at the clock. “Supper will be announced in a few minutes. We should all be out there.” She added, “And perhaps nobody should mention this new development until we’re more sure of our facts.”
Thomas frowned. “I can’t let him just walk out of here.” He wasn’t going to let Cousin Cornelius out of his sight until he’d wrung the truth out of him.
Cornelius gasped. “You can’t force me to stay!”
“I could lock you in a closet,” Thomas growled.
“Thomas, you will do no such thing,” Emm said.
Galbraith, who’d said nothing up to now, stepped forward. “I’ll take him home to my place. Lily’s staying here for the night, so she won’t need an escort home. How would that be, Cornelius? A nice comfortable bedchamber for the night, instead of a cramped closet.” He glanced at Thomas. “I’ll keep him safe.” In other words, he’d lock him in his bedchamber.
Thomas turned to his cousin. “There’s your choice, Cornelius—a closet or Galbraith’s hospitality.”
“Why can’t I just go home?”
“Because I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you,” Thomas said bluntly.
“Such a frightful ruffian you’ve become, Thomas,” Cornelius said, but seeing that Thomas wasn’t going to backdown, he gave in with a pout. “Oh, very well, I’ll go with Galbraith if I must.” He stood, hesitated, then said in a rush, “I have no idea what bee you’ve got in your bonnet, but I assure you I know nothing about whatever letters you’re talking about. And it’s not my fault that I was declared the earl. Everyone, even the navy, said you were dead, so you can’t blame me.”
Thomas, aware of Emm’s desire to get back to the ball, stood. “We can continue this conversation tomorrow morning.” He turned to Galbraith. “Will you bring him back here at ten?”
“Ten?” Cornelius shuddered. “Ineverarise before noon.”
“Then it will be a new experience for you. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning, here”—he glanced a silent query at Ashendon, who nodded—“at Ashendon House.”
Cousin Cornelius pouted. “I think you’re all being horrid. And I was so looking forward to the ball.”
“Come along, Cinderella,” Galbraith said. “Pumpkin time.”
***
They returned to the ballroom. The supper dance was in progress and at the end of it, supper was announced. They went in to dine, Thomas escorting Lady Ashendon, Rose escorted by her brother while Lily, most unfashionably, sat with her husband, who had returned, having locked Cousin Cornelius in a guest bedroom and setting a sturdy footman to guard the door.
Ollie escorted Miss Peplowe to the table, behaving in a very attentive manner toward her. Rose caught Thomas’s eye and made a see-I-told-you face. Thomas shrugged. It was just supper.
Finally, in a move that caused a great deal of murmuring and subtle nudging, the Duke of Everingham escorted Lady Georgiana in to supper. Lady Salter and her tame escort followed, her smug expression making it clear who was responsible for that pairing. George grimaced at Rose as she passed. Rose laughed.
The supper was a veritable feast, with all kinds of dishes to tempt the appetite: white soup, of course, chicken fricassee, as well as squab and pheasant. There were pies—beef pies, veal pies and fish pies. There was venison, ham sliced paper thin, lobster, prawns and crab patties and two whole baked salmons. There was a range of vegetable dishes, including asparagus and green peas, and there were curd cakes, both savory and sweet.
For those with a sweet tooth there were cakes, blancmanges, glistening tartlets, cream pastries, ices, colorful jellies and brandied custards. For fruit lovers there were compotes of fruit, and the centerpiece of every table held an ornate arrangement of fresh fruit, including grapes frosted with sugar and several whole pineapples.
The tables positively groaned. No expense had been spared.
Remembering his duties to his supper partner, Thomas tried to tempt Lady Ashendon with morsels from the various dishes, but she ate sparingly, even though she was eating for two. He ate without tasting much—though he did enjoy the crab patties. His mind was wholly on the news he’d just received.
Uncle Walter and Gerald dead. And Thomas was now the earl. It was unthinkable.
It wasn’t long before Thomas became aware that many of the murmurs and whispers and glances, sidelong and direct, were directed at him. Whenever he caught someone’s eye he was treated to a congratulatory smile and a raised glass. It was a strong contrast to the curious and often disparaging looks he’d received at the beginning of the ball.
Lady Ashendon leaned across. “I suspect your secret is out.”
Thomas frowned. “But I thought we agreed to say nothing.” Cousin Cornelius was safely locked away, so he couldn’t have spread the news. In any case, he would hate having to explain his demotion back to plain old Mister.
Lady Ashendon sent a meaningful glance toward Lady Salter. “I’m guessing she’s the source of the gossip.”
“You mean my dear aunt-by-marriage who always knew I was noble and never once called me a nobody? Or a scarecrow. And certainly nevereverordered me to be tossed into a gutter. Twice.”
