Page 16 of The Meddler
Tonight, Ryland’s penchant for murder and mayhem might be an opportunity in disguise. If Jasper were to take Miss Wilcox into dinner, he could examine how she approached the inevitable mystery that would be thrust upon them. Perhaps he might glean how clever she was, or how criminal-minded she was. The usual young lady at these annual affairs read through the description of the murder and then fanned herself, squealed about how dreadful it was, claimed she had no knowledge of the sort of low neighborhoods where a murder might occur, and vowed she would never sleep again. What she never seemed to do was solve it. Perhaps Miss Wilcox might give away that she was not so innocent.
Or, perhaps he wished to take her into dinner because she was very nice to look at.
He was so rarely of two minds over anything! It was really very irritating.
“Oh my dear,” his mother said, coming down the stairs, “you do look well turned out, as always.”
“That brocade suits you, Mother,” Jasper said. He was not certain it was true, but recently the lady had become enamored of the sort of heavy fabrics he might himself favor as curtains. He suspected she was influenced by the Duchess of Stanbury, to whom every female of a certain age would follow despite her questionable taste. He would never say it, but it had resulted in flocks of middle-aged ladies appearing as waddling and well-padded furniture.
“Your father has managed to wiggle out again,” Lady Mendleton said, smoothing the brocade of her skirt. “He claims his gout has flared, though I know perfectly well he does not have the gout. He cannot even decide which foot—last time it was the right, now it is the left. He shall be down in the library with a brandy as soon as we leave the house. Though, I will not harass him over it, as he has been very agreeable about Miss Wilcox.”
Jasper smiled. He knew as well as his mother did that wily Lord Mendleton did not have gout. In fact, during one of his fatherly talks with his son he had laid out how when one reached a certain age, one might excuse oneself from almost anything by claiming a gouty foot. Lord Mendleton, if he understood his father at all, was a gentleman keen on having his way when he could manage it, though very much not keen on having any sort of battle over it.
His attention was called to a movement at the top of the stairs. Miss Wilcox descended, carefully picking up the hem of her gown as she did. She wore a blue silk gown, the color reminding him of the sea at Dover. It was embellished with darker blue rosettes at the hem and the sleeve, and the neckline was graced by a simple sapphire necklace chained in silver. Her color was high and her glorious dark hair artfully composed in soft curls, complimenting her delicate features.
My God, she was smashing.
Though he silently warned himself not to be so easily taken in by a pretty picture, hewasfairly taken in.
“Goodness,” Lady Mendleton said, “you take my breath away, Georgiana. You are simply lovely.”
“Miss Wilcox,” Jasper said, “charming.”
The lady’s color rose somewhat higher and she said, “If there is any real compliment to be given, it is in your generosity in dressing me so.”
Jasper watched his mother nearly swoon over the sentiment. It was prettily expressed and yet might it not also be exceedingly clever? Lady Mendleton had ever had a soft spot for any being that was grateful to her, as evidenced by the strays both canine and human that she was forever collecting. A clever interloper would have picked up on that quality in less than a day.
“We should set off,” he said.
Perry, who seemed to be always lurking nearby and on hand when he was needed, opened the front doors. The carriage was waiting—the footmen stood by ready to help the ladies in, two grooms were poised to leap on the running boards, and Carstares held the leads with his dependable scowl.
As the carriage made its way the short distance to Berkeley Square, Jasper waited for some moment when Lady Mendleton might pause in her speech. His dear mother had been rattling on ever since the door closed.
Finally, she did pause, and he leapt into the momentary silence.
“Miss Wilcox,” Jasper said, “this will all be new to you as you have so far been introduced only to my mother’s friends. I think I ought to take you in to supper for this first outing. As a practical matter.”
Miss Wilcox had only nodded, though he thought she seemed not ill-pleased with the idea.
Lady Mendleton clapped her hands. “What a capital notion, my darling. You know absolutely everybody and can explain to Georgiana who is who, and who is the right sort of gentleman and who is…perhaps not.”
Though that was not Jasper’s intent in squiring Miss Wilcox to supper, he understood his mother perfectly well. There would be some she would not approve of, for varying reasons. Skeffington was rumored to have a mistress he was none too discreet about. Clamarin was a member of Ryland’s criminal society and was sure to attend. Though he was a large landowner from somewhere in the north, Lady Mendleton distinctly disliked him, though she could not say why. There would be others that his mother would feel not precisely up to snuff. Though she liked Harry Vance exceedingly and he was to inherit a barony, she could not entirely get over the idea that his grandfather had been in trade. Lady Mendleton would conveniently ignore the fact that Miss Wilcox was only the daughter of a baron who had married a lady from a family in trade.
Jasper paused, stealing a glance at Miss Wilcox. He thought it was not only his mother who would ignore Miss Wilcox’s not-particularly lofty credentials.
With a face like that, a lady might start a war.
Chapter Five
Georgiana knew verywell that she’d blushed violently when Lord Langley had suggested he take her into supper. Her complexion was both a blessing and a curse. With naturally rosy cheeks, she always appeared in perfect health. However, when she was taken off her guard, that rosiness could begin to look like a fever. She had high hopes that the darkness in the carriage had hidden her flush.
He had asked for her supper! She had all but convinced herself that Lord Langley would escort the much talked-of Lady Annabelle into supper.
She had been wrong! It was not Lady Annabelle who was to be taken in, it was herself. Of course, she understood it was only a courtesy. She was new to Town and this was her first ball—it was only natural that she would be guided properly.
Still, it would be very pleasant.
They had entered the house and been introduced to Lord Ryland. The gentleman was urbane and had what seemed to be a rather confident manner. What he did not seem like was a gentleman who would serve what Lady Redfield had worried would be afunny dinner. Georgiana could only wonder what would be offered, though she speculated that the gentleman had probably been to India and brought back some rare spices. That would be a deal better than the funny dinners that had been served at Manley Hall, which were usually gone funny because Marta had made a mistake somewhere. Nobody in that house would soon forget the mustard in the custard incident—it had been an interesting Christmas dinner with Marta the worse for drink in the kitchens and each dish coming out more bizarre than the last.
