Page 28 of A Much Maligned Miss

Caroline cleared her throat. “I quite understand the misconception, Eliza, and I’m afraid that the fault lies with his lordship entirely. If he had not been ‘in a pet with me,’ then I should not have been confined to such secondary quarters at all.” She shot a haughty look across the table, and Gervaise found his bad mood miraculously dissipating. “I hope you will excuse my husband’s eccentricities, as I am forced to.”

Eliza turned a confused look in her fellow servant’s direction. “Yes, milady.” She faltered. “Very good, milady.”

Gervaise nodded and the servants hurried out, almost falling over one another in their haste to be excused.

“Well, they certainly will not forget us in a hurry,” Caroline said grimly as she helped herself to toast. “I only hope it may not come back to inconvenience you some time in the future!”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why it should,” he said optimistically.

“You never know!” Caroline said darkly. “Sometimes these things come back to haunt you.”

“For example?” he asked, watching her covertly.

“Well, one time at school I made a casual boast to Cynthia Jarrow—”

“Ah, the distinguished Cynthia Jarrow, head girl of Hamberleigh,” he murmured.

“Yes, her. It was in the days before Mama had poisoned her against me, you understand? I told her that I had experience with oil pants, secure in the knowledge that we only ever did sketching and watercolors in class. Then the very next term, what do you supposed was introduced to the curriculum?”

“Oil painting?” he hazarded with lurking amusement.

“I was horrified and looked like the biggest fool in Christendom.”

“Nonsense, just because you had experience, does not ensure it was a good experience.”

She paused, butter knife in hand. “I never thought of that,” she admitted.

“I am very good at thinking up ways to extricate myself from awkward situations,” he admitted. “I consider it quite beneath my dignity to ever look foolish.” She snorted.

“What?” he asked, drawing a dish of devilled kidneys closer.

“Have you no idea how you must have appeared mere moments ago when you announced that I was your wife and you had banished me from your bedchamber in a sulk?”

He could not prevent his smile. “I assure you; he was too busy wondering how to make reparation to find my behavior in any way ridiculous.”

“Maybe in the heat of the moment,” she agreed, “but in the retelling, and I assure you the tale will be rehashed in the kitchens, you will be thoroughly lambasted.”

“Lambasted for a despotic husband, maybe, but not for a figure of mockery.”

“I think you will find over time it will become both,” she insisted.

“But by then, I will be long gone,” he pointed out. “Faded into the annals of The Red Lion’s ancient history.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded thoughtfully. “Let us hope that none of them remember your family name by that point,” she added dryly. “For your sake!”

11

Caroline’s heart sank a little when they found an elderly clergyman with a battered case awaiting them outside in the courtyard, stamping his feet and blowing on his hands. He peered at them shortsightedly and nodded and smiled with vague benevolence.

Caroline tugged on Gervaise’s sleeve. “Please don’t ask him to sit on the roof,” she murmured. “He looks far too frail to withstand such an ordeal.”

Gervaise subjected him to a sweeping glance. “He’s not the type to take bribes in any case.” He shrugged. “He’d mistake my intention and think it a donation for the church roof fund.”

Introductions were made all around and the newcomer turned out to be a Canon Petrie of St. Catherine’s in Shoreditch. He was a sprightly older gentleman with a kindly eye and a rather spartan appearance. His coat looked cheap and thin, he wore no gloves, and only a threadbare-looking muffler.

Caroline wondered who he had at home to look after him, and on enquiry it seemed he lived in ecclesiastical digs. “I am very fortunate in my circumstances.” He beamed. “Very fortunate indeed, for I retire next year and will need to move out of my lodgings for they are owned by the diocese, but a kindly nephew and his wife have agreed to take me in.”

“You are fond of your nephew?”