Page 28 of Lady Graceless
Though realistically, he supposed the time for that happy turn of events had passed by Dashlend. Montclave would drown him with his own two hands if he could get away with it.
He was in Town to assure himself that Dashlend did not take a bride. If his cousin had an interest in Lady Grace, how was he to stop it?
That was the problem he mulled over just now, ignoring what went on around him. The drawing room had devolved into a drunken scene at Vauxhall. Mrs. Featherby was in her cups and laughing at everything Doanellen said. A few of the men were gambling far too high. Mr. Crenellen had passed out in a corner and Mrs. Crenellen sang off-key at the pianoforte.
It was just as well that Lady Grace and Lady Lavender had departed before this particular scene unfolded. Montclave would not like either of them to view the company he was currently keeping.
Somehow, he must ascertain where things were going between Dashlend and Lady Grace. If it seemed to be going anywhere at all, he must wedge them apart. He could not lose his chance at becoming the earl’s heir. If he could just keep Dashlend unmarried, who knew how the fellow might end up conveniently killing himself. For years, he’d held tight to the hope that Dashlend would get in an argument with somebody and end up dead on a green, or fall from a horse he was racing, or be accidentally run through while sparring, or sink in his stupid boat.
He’d come so close on the drowning front!
One never knew when the next opportunity would present itself. He would not be so stupid as to murder his cousin as he had no wish to swing for it, but if a situation presented itself whereby he might innocently help his cousin to the great beyond, he would take it.
*
MILES ARRANGED TOtake his carriage to Lady Grace’s house to return the clothes that had been borrowed after his shipwreck. He had at first thought to take his horse, as he would always much prefer to ride, but Moreau had some sort of mental collapse over it.
According to his valet, he had slaved over the reviled “oldest set” of clothes, making certain they were perfection. They must be carefully laid on a carriage seat so that nothing should ruin his work. According to Moreau, he would do a violence to himself if another valet found reason to lord it over him. His very soul could not continue living if he were to be shamed in such a manner.
Miles did not bother to mention that a person’s soul was meant to be eternal and not likely snuffed out over a set of clothes.
Listening to his valet’s threats of bodily harm was not the only inconvenience though. It seemed Lady Margaret heard that the carriage had been called for. Miles found her sitting primly in the great hall with her coat and bonnet on, cane in hand.
He’d mentioned it would be an uninteresting trip, as he was only to return some clothes, but she’d replied that at her age every trip was interesting, but for the trip to a funeral parlor. That final trip was only interesting to heirs, not to the persons themselves.
She was determined to go and so there was nothing for it.
As the carriage made its way down the crowded streets, Lady Margaret eagerly peered out the windows taking it all in. Miles began to wonder when last she’d been out of her house.
If the streets were not so congested with carriages, people walking, people on horseback, and carts of all description, the trip to Grosvenor Square might be accomplished in well under ten minutes. As it was, they’d been inching along for a quarter hour already.
Precisely why he liked to take his horse.
“That new girl you sent to me is ever so clever in getting me dressed,” Lady Margaret said. “She knows what she’s about.”
“She is your kitchen maid,” Miles said. “I thought she might do for now.”
“Is she? How funny I did not notice. I am too used to her presenting burnt toast, I suppose. With no toast in her hands, how could I recognize her?”
“If you wish to keep her on as your lady’s maid, I do not think she would be opposed to it.”
“Ah yes, I think she would suit very well. She helps Gwen too. Hah! My lady’s maid has a lady’s maid. Is that not ironic? Now, tell me about these people we will see.”
“I do not actually know if we will see any of them,” Miles said. “They may not be at home. It is the Duke of Pelham and his daughter, Lady Grace. They were instrumental in providing me assistance when I had a recent mishap at sea.”
Lady Margaret leaned forward. “Did you come close to death?”
Miles was taken aback by the question, but he supposed the elderly often had the subject in mind.
“It could have gone that way. I was very fortunate.”
Lady Margaret rubbed her hands together. “That sounds very promising. To meet under such interesting circumstances often bodes well. When one so young faces death, they turn their attention to the future. Very suddenly, the far off someday has arrived.”
Miles did not answer, though he thought the idea surprisingly astute. That was exactly where his mind had gone.
“Of course, at my age, one spends one’s time wishing someday wouldnotarrive. Though, I must say that waking up in the morning is far more exciting than it used to be. There is something about opening one’s eyes and noticing that one did not die in the night that is particularly cheerful.”
Miles was beginning to find Lady Margaret a rather macabre personality.
