Page 39 of The Meddler
A footman appeared at Lord Langley’s side, offering a large platter of beef. As the lord dished it out for her, it seemed to break the current of their conversation.
Georgiana stayed silent, hoping he would continue. He did not and they moved on to more usual things. Georgiana was forced to turn from time to time to converse with Lord Matthew, a rather genial older fellow with a love of lawn bowling.
Her thoughts, though, were not at all about bowling. The more she considered it, the more questions surfaced. Where did his interest lie? Who had told the newspapers? Had Lord Langley really thoughtshe’ddone it? It seemed so, he did wonder why she had not revealed that she’d seen the king on the road.
Could he really have thought so ill of her right from the start? But then, he did not really think ill of her. No, she could tell he did not.
As she mulled it over, she could not believe Jenny or Carstares or the footmen would have told the tale. At least, not to the newspapers. It was far too likely that Jenny had told quite a lot of people, and one of them had done it. It would be impossible to identify the tattler.
Still, she did not like this vague suspicion hanging over her head. Especially not in Lord Langley’s mind. Especially not when it seemed to stop him from saying something else. If there were some way to discover who the culprit was, she would very much like to do it.
WhatdidLord Langley think to say before he found he must ask her about the king? It had sounded somehow momentous, but then it had come to nothing.
Georgiana knew very well that she should be grateful that he had not said anything momentous. She also knew very well that she was as ungrateful as an unruly child. She would very much like to stamp her foot just now.
*
Jasper was gladhe’d ridden his horse to the ball, rather than go in the carriage with his mother and Miss Wilcox. It afforded him time to think and he found he had so much to think about that he passed by the house and kept on going. A light fog hushed the road, dampened the sound of his horse’s hooves, and made soft halos round the streetlamps.
Making his way through the neighborhood of Mayfair, he began to check off the list of things that must be considered, beginning with the easiest of them.
He was well and truly done with Lady Annabelle. He always had been done, but now they were of the same mind. Though, according to Miss Wilcox, they hadalwaysbeen of the same mind. He was too serious and ill-humored? It was outrageous! It simply was not true.
Well, perhaps it was more true lately, and especially true when he found himself in the presence of that lady. It was also mentioned that he did not dote on her, and that most assuredlywastrue.
But who exactly was Mr. Pottsgrove? If Lady Annabelle had left some paramour behind in the countryside, why did she not simply get on with it, rather than torturing people here? Well, he’d better not wonder over it—it was, happily, no longer any of his affair.
Though he was not sorry that he’d been direct with Lady Annabelle, rude even, he was uncomfortable with the idea that she and Miss Wilcox had some tête-à-tête in the ladies’ retiring room. They’d been in there for ages!
He supposed Lady Annabelle had told Miss Wilcox what he’d said and she thought him rather a brute for it. What had she said about it? Lady Annabelle was distraught.
For all that, it was rather marvelous that Miss Wilcox was to be found at Lady Annabelle’s side. He was certain she had no love for the lady, though she was too good to say so.
Too good to say so…and too good to say other things as well.
When he asked Miss Wilcox why she had not revealed seeing the king on the road, she had said it was because it was a private moment.
His instincts told him she had not prevaricated on the subject. There had been too genuine a surprise to discover the tale had made its way into the newspapers. There was also every reason to believe she’d not seen the newspapers—they were all delivered tohim, while his mother only received Ackerman’s and various other publications full of gossip and fashion. Miss Wilcox’s reasoning for staying silent had been full of kindness and good grace. Noble, even.
The queen had commented that Miss Wilcox was either a marionette in the employ of her enemies or a lady with very fine sensibilities. It had been her fine sensibilities that had kept her quiet. Nobody, not even a spy, could have invented her defense. In fact, a spy would have had all sorts of flimsy excuses lined up and at the ready—she had been sworn to secrecy by one of the king’s guards who had fetched the king, or she had not realized it was the king, or she had been asleep the whole journey and missed the encounter.
She was everything she represented herself to be. He knew that now. All his worry over what she was had burned off, just as the fog that surrounded him would burn off by morning.
It was rather glorious to think about!
Though, thinking was all well and good. The question was, what would hedoabout it?
He would ask for her hand. That’s what he would do. In fact, that was what he must do, for if he did not some other fellow, Asturt perhaps, would swoop in ahead of him. That could not be stood for.
As the idea drifted through his mind, another idea came too. He was not just considering Miss Wilcox as a genial partner. He was in love with the lady. He had been for some time. He’d known that, somewhere in his heart. He’d just not allowed himself toreallyknow it. Now, he rather had the inclination to shout it at the dark windows that loomed over him so all in the neighborhood, asleep or not, might know it.
When had it happened to him, exactly? He did not know. What he did know was that for quite some time he had been trying to convince himself of her innocence because of it.
He no longer need try—he was certain.
There were new questions, though. Did she love him, or even like him enough? That was the big question. The smaller question, though an equally high fence to be jumped, was how his mother would take the news. His father would be no trouble, the old man seemed fond of Miss Wilcox and the estate had no need of a large dowry. As far as his mother was concerned, though, he was on his way to being engaged to Lady Annabelle. She must be turned round on that idea.
“None of it is insurmountable!” he said loudly into the silent night.
