A Certain Want of Reason (5 page)

“You wouldn’t!”

Sophie looked up with a wicked grin. “Wouldn’t I?”

“That is terribly cruel. If Eugenie has no interest in the gentleman, you’ve spread false rumors. And if she does, it is even worse, for you’ve put her in an embarrassing position indeed.”

“No worse than when she threw a fox at me last year at Vauxhall Gardens. In front of my whole party.”

“She threw a fox at you?”

“Well, she did not actually do the throwing, as she was a member of the party at the time. I believe she had one of the footmen lie in wait.” She popped a tiny toast triangle into her mouth.

Lucia shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”

“For my birthday last year, we made up a party of friends and took a trip to the gardens. While we were walking about, we passed a small grove of trees. Then a fox jumped out—or rather, was thrown out—in front of me. It was quite a shock, as you can imagine. I’m afraid I screamed rather indecently. And I hiked up my dress and cowered against one of the gentlemen of the party. Only for a moment, mind you, until I recovered. But the damage was done. For the rest of the season, I was known as the ‘Screamy Mimi’.”

“What makes you think Eugenie was responsible? Why on earth would she—”

“Oh, she confessed. We had a bet, you see. We’d had a discussion about hunting, and I said foxes were rather sweet, meek creatures and it was a shame to set great dogs and men on horseback to hunt them down. Eugenie said they were vermin that would bite you as soon as look at you and that I would be afraid of one if I saw it face-to-face.”

“And so she—”

“She had to have someone throw it at eye level in order for me to see it ‘face-to-face’. That’s how she explained it, anyway. I believe she did it just to make sure I really screamed in front of all those people.”

“Ah. So you desire revenge.”

“Naturally. I’ve only been waiting for a good chance. And this seems it. For I believe Eugenie really does have an interest in Lord Adrington.”

Lucia looked over the remains of her breakfast. She had eaten little of her toast and bacon, and while she disliked waste, she had been unable to persuade herself to take another bite for the last quarter of an hour. It seemed unlikely she would do so now. “Sophie, I understand your desire for revenge—”

“Do you? I do not see that quality in you. I’m sorry, I should not interrupt.”

Lucia leaned closer, hoping to impress on Sophie the need for restraint and some sense of familial loyalty. “This is much more serious that being embarrassed in front of a party of friends.”

“First of all, I was not merely embarrassed before a party of friends—it was a slow week for gossip, so everyone in the
ton
knew of the event within two days. Second, the matter of Eugenie’s interest in Lord Adrington is not a serious matter because it will not signify. The Adringtons are so far beyond us they would never consider a match with anyone in our family. We were extraordinarily fortunate even to be invited as one of the lowest guests at their enormous gathering. We can only hope to clutch at one of the other guests on the lower rung of the ladder. To aspire to the top is ludicrous.”

Hearing the matter set forth so bluntly was a bit of a shock. But it made sense. Lucia supposed that had she spent more time in society, she would become as pragmatic about marriage matches as Sophie.

“I will see Lady Adrington at a small party in a few days’ time. That should be just the place to enlighten her.”

Poor Eugenie. Though Lucia could well believe her capable of setting up the fox episode for a bit of fun, she knew her friend would never stoop to the meddling machinations her sister Sophie now outlined. Eugenie had far too much respect for others to even think of such a thing.

* * * * *

He would have to tell someone. Edmund had spent the better part of the morning playing scenarios in his mind in between bouts of blissful slumber. Now, finally, he felt a little more himself. He could even sit up in the bed without too much difficulty, so long as he moved very slowly.

Bright light filtered through the cracks in the window shutters. It might be late into the afternoon, for all he knew. A tray sitting on the table in the corner offered an unappetizing array of breakfast food, however, so he assumed his initial assessment was correct—he had spent only the entire morning in bed.

And no one wanted to talk to him this morning.

But he had to talk to someone. If he were to keep up this ruse, he needed to ensure that at least one person knew that underneath the façade, he was still himself. One person to whom he might occasionally confide. And one person who could help him prove, when it was all over and Jeanne safely married to someone else, that he was indeed quite sane.

He would be ruined in society, but his friends might one day forgive him.

Who could he choose for a confidant? Who would be able to keep this secret until events played out as he planned?

Edmund looked longingly at the pot of coffee on the table. Certain to be cold as the Thames, and probably as cloudy. Was it worth the effort to drag himself over to pour a cup anyway? He could ring for a servant, if any were brave enough to enter while he was awake.

Curiosity suddenly overcame the headache. He slid off the bed, padded gently across the floor and reached for the door handle. It turned, but the door did not open. They had locked him inside.

So his choice of confidants might be severely limited, if he needed to divulge the secret any time soon.

His sudden burst of energy now drained away, Edmund sank into a chair near the table with the untouched breakfast tray.

Adrington would be sure to stop in sometime during the day. It was, after all, his house. And he would dearly love to enlighten his friend. The look of anguish on Adrington’s face last night, which Edmund had so blithely ignored at the time, now came back to haunt him. His friend thought him lost entirely. And unfortunately, for the time being, he would have to let him continue to think so. After his performance last evening, essentially ruining the party, he could hardly saunter into Adrington’s study and admit he had engaged in a calculated ruse.

For that reason, there was no one in the house in whom he could confide.

Who else?

Mountdale was not clever enough to keep the secret. In fact, he probably wouldn’t even understand the need for secrecy.

But perhaps one of the other members of his club…

He could tell his valet, if he had one. It had seemed disloyal to interview replacement candidates right after Mayer’s death, but the days soon turned to many weeks. He had been without a valet for longer than he realized.

It looked as though his best option would be to find a suitable confidant at White’s. If he hurried to dress now, he should have plenty of time.

But not if he remained locked in his room.

He stood and looked about for a bell pull, but could see none. Perhaps the less elegant guest rooms had not been outfitted with such devices. So on the rare occasion when a guest found himself locked in his room, presumably to prevent him from biting another member of the household during the night, he would simply have to stay put until someone thought to check on him.

But how long would that be?

Edmund walked back to the door and pounded on it three times. “Open up!” He pounded several more times. “Is anyone about?”

No answer. No sound at all, in fact. It was as if all occupants had deserted this section of the house, like rats fleeing a ship in a storm.

Perhaps they had. After all, he had provided a storm last night.

He smashed his fist against door in a careless, sloppy blow that nearly broke his knuckles. He would have to use more sense than that. Hit hard and straight on.

Or quit banging on the door altogether.

If Adrington and his guests heard frantic hammering and pounding on the door, they might not be terribly anxious to let him out. He would have to wait, perhaps act as though the episode had never occurred. Once he’d found someone to confide in, then he could act the crazy man again.

* * * * *

“Lucia?” Eugenie rapped on her door. “Are you within?”

“Yes.” Lucia pulled the bedroom door open and beckoned for her friend to step inside. “Come in.”

Eugenie remained in the doorway. “No, no, I want you to come downstairs.”

“I will soon. I need to finish packing my trunk.”

“Just for a moment. Please?”

Lucia smiled. “You are as impatient as a child. But I really do need to finish. I promised your father my belongings would be ready to be delivered this evening, since we leave so early in the morning.”

“You no longer need to concern yourself about that.” Eugenie grabbed her arm.

“But I promised your father—”

“He will not mind. Trust me.” Eugenie pulled her into the hallway.

“Eugenie!” Lucia laughed. “You are behaving in a ridiculous fashion.”

“I have something to show you. A surprise.”

Lucia allowed herself to be propelled down the stairs where Eugenie parked her in front of the door to the first parlor.

“Now, close your eyes.”

“Eugenie!” Lucia found her friend’s enthusiasm contagious—she could barely contain a fit of giggles.

“Close both eyes, if you please!”

“I am. I am!”

“Very well,” Eugenie intoned with mock solemnity. “I shall now say the magic incantation—words that will keep you in London so you can enjoy the season.”

“What in the—”

“You cannot interrupt the magic! It could prove most dangerous.” Now Eugenie apparently had trouble maintaining her serious demeanor, for a sound very much like a giggle escaped her lips as well. “If you mess up the incantation, who knows what might happen?” She mumbled something about eating toads and remaining in town for an impossible length of time. When Lucia began to laugh, Eugenie put a hand over her eyes. “Keep them closed!” She turned the squeaky knob and opened the door with a tremendous yank. “You may open your eyes now.”

Chapter Five

Lucia was still laughing when light began to flutter through her opening eyelids. But the sound died away as the room came fully into focus. “Geoffrey! And Helen! How…however did you get here?”

“I brought them down.” Eugenie beamed with pride.

“You did?” Lucia stared at her brother and sister incredulously.

They, in turn, stared shyly at her, standing almost so still as to appear as if they had been carved of wood.

“Well,” Eugenie confessed, “I had them brought by hired coach as far as Roxeth. Then I went to collect them with our carriage. Is this not a wonderful surprise?”

“It’s a wonder, certainly.” It was a wonder that they survived the trip without Geoffrey insisting that he take the reins and driving them all into a ditch. Lucia reached out to take their hands to assure herself that they were really here, in the flesh and safe. “Are you quite well, Helen?”

Her sister nodded, her big eyes solemn, her mouth drawn closed in a prim bow.

“And you, Geoffrey? Did you stand the journey well? Does Nicholas accompany you?”

Her brother waved her questions away as if brushing falling leaves from his cloak. “Yes, the journey was quite satisfactory. And of course Nicholas accompanies me. You did not think I would leave Helen alone in the coach while I drove, do you?”

Lucia groaned. “You drove?”

“Of course. Is that not what a driver does?”

“But I thought—Helen said you’d taken up shooting as a profession.”

Helen grabbed her wrist and shook her head emphatically.

“Ah, no,” Geoffrey scoffed. “A beggar’s sport, that’s all it is. But to drive, to drive a team of fine horses over hill, through dale…now that is a fine undertaking indeed.”

Lucia nearly held her breath. “Through the country, then. You did not try to—that is, care to—drive in London traffic?”

“Certainly not.” Geoffrey sniffed.

Lucia allowed herself to relax ever-so slightly.

“I was a guest in the Bayles’ carriage,” Geoffrey continued, “under the guidance of the most excellent skills of Christopher Smith. I would not presume to put a fellow driver out of his place.”

“Well…” Lucia felt her spine stiffen as she prepared to be on guard once again. “I think you’ll find here in London that all the drivers take their role seriously, just as you do. You, of course, will not want to put any of them out their place, either.”

“Of course not,” Geoffrey agreed. “Unless their driving stands in need of improvement. Then it would be incumbent on me to demonstrate—”

“Oh, look, Geoff!” Lucia dashed over to a glass-enclosed bookcase in the corner. “I believe I see a copy of Cosin’s Devotions. Does it not make you long for the blissful days you spent studying with Reverend Cadwallader?”

“Tedious in the extreme,” Geoffrey drawled as he strolled over to join Lucia. “I never did understand all that fuss made over a piece of bread.” He leaned over and peered through the glass. “And that is a book on horticulture, in any case.” He turned back to face his other sister. “Helen, you might find it of interest. Perhaps it might inspire a new collection?”