The Earl's Inconvenient Wife

The matron paled. ‘I hardly think society would be interested in...in a silly contretemps from so many years ago.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. When a lady is one of the premier arbiters of society, whose judgements about the character of young ladies have made or destroyed reputations and Seasons, I expect there might be exceptional interest in the story of a—’

‘Never mind,’ Lady Spencer-Woods interrupted, bright spots of colour blooming in her cheeks. ‘I don’t think any further details are necessary.’

Not with a highly interested witness sitting in, Temper thought. Lady Sayleford, how clever you are indeed.

‘For a woman, “incidents” are never truly past and forgotten, are they? Even when one has lived blamelessly for thirty years.’

‘Felicia Lattimar has hardly lived “blamelessly” for thirty years!’

‘She might have, had her idiot of a husband paid her any attention. And might have still, had that cad Hightower not spread his malicious stories all over town. In any event, you will invite Miss Lattimar to your ball—won’t you? Ladies of power and influence should present a united front.’

Lady Spencer-Woods held her hostess’s unflinching stare for a moment, before dropping her gaze. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Then we understand each other. Excellent.’

Lady Sayleford smiled serenely, as if she hadn’t just manoeuvred her outraged guest into checkmate. ‘You need do nothing more than receive Miss Lattimar. I shall not hold you responsible for her ultimate success, or lack of it. Unless, of course, I learn you’ve said or done something disparaging to compromise it.’

‘I shall not forget this, Emily,’ Lady Spencer-Woods said, looking back up at the Countess, her expression a mixture of resentment and reluctant admiration.

‘I don’t expect you will. Now, I know you’d like to become better acquainted with Mrs Moorsby, who will be accompanying Miss Lattimar to all her entertainments.’ She gestured towards the other group, a clear sign of dismissal. ‘I shall look forward to seeing you at your ball.’

‘I shall be delighted to welcome you. And your lovely protégée,’ she added with a resigned glance at Temper. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. ‘Emily, what a trickster you are! One never knows what outrageous thing you will do. Have no fear, I shall play my part.’

‘I never doubted it. I know just how...ingenious you can be, Elizabeth,’ the Countess replied, amusement in her eyes as her guest’s cheeks once again went rosy.

* * *

And so it went with each matron in turn. Lady Sayleford immediately demanded support for Temper, countered any objections about her and her mother, then moved in for the kill with a hint about some questionable event in the lady’s past the Countess might just happen to recall, should her guest not prove accommodating.

After the guests took their leave, Temper turned to gaze in awe at her sponsor. ‘You really do know everything about everyone!’

Lady Sayleford chuckled. ‘The benefit of a long life spent building such a reputation for discretion, every bit of scandal finds its way to my ear.’

‘Still, I regret that you had to play so many of the trumps you’ve kept close in hand. I hope giving them up—and the animosity you may have incurred for playing them now—won’t come back to harm you.’

‘You needn’t worry, my dear. I have enough other trumps tucked away to be in no danger of losing whatever game I choose. Now you are privy to some of that knowledge, too.’

‘And you made sure all those ladies knew it!’

‘I don’t intend to go everywhere with you. But they all know their secrets will. Shall we join the others?’

‘How well you work your magic!’ Mrs Moorsby said to the Countess as she made room for Temperance on the sofa beside her. ‘After chatting with you, each lady came back to express her delight in making my acquaintance and her hope that my charge and I would be able to attend the entertainment she intended to give later in the Season. Bravo, Aunt Lilly!’

‘One does one’s possible,’ Lady Sayleford said, a satisfied smile on her lips. ‘The two of you did well, too, keeping your group from listening in—though, after each one finished her session, she must have known something similar was being said to the others and been agog to discover what lapse that lady had committed.’

‘Have you made out a social schedule for us yet?’ Mrs Moorsby asked.

‘Not yet. We shall do that together, once the invitations begin to come in.’

‘With Mr Newell present, as well? I imagine he has duties in Parliament, and we will want to make sure the entertainments we attend will not conflict.’

‘Why would they?’ Temper asked. ‘Surely with you on hand to provide protection and assistance, Mr Newell’s part is finished—and I sincerely thank him for his efforts!’

‘Unless I’m mistaken, it’s not at all finished,’ Mrs Moorsby said. ‘I may be your chaperon, but the Countess believes that Mr Newell should act as a sort of...guardian. Don’t you, Aunt Lilly?’

The Countess nodded. ‘You must admit, Miss Lattimar, that if some...unscrupulous man tried to take advantage, a female chaperon would be of limited assistance. Having everyone know there’s a gentleman nearby, watching over you, will ensure that no blackguard makes such an attempt.’

‘And while standing guard, Mr Newell shall have a chance to review the field of prospective brides,’ Mrs Moorsby added.

‘But wouldn’t his being in my company compromise his reputation—limiting his chances of meeting eligible young ladies? For their mamas will surely want them to avoid me,’ Temper countered.

Lady Sayleford waved a dismissive hand. ‘If he were seen as a suitor, perhaps. But as my godson, delegated to look after the young lady I’m sponsoring, society should expect him to be in your company.’

Her chaperon’s bright smile indicating how entirely unaware she was of the consternation this alteration in plan had just evoked, Mrs Moorsby stood up. ‘I will leave you now to take my rest, but I understand we are to do some shopping later, Miss Lattimar. I shall look forward to it! A pleasure to meet you both.’ After dipping them a curtsy, she walked from the room.

‘Lady Sayleford, you cannot mean for Giff—Mr Newell to...to dance attendance on me at every social event I attend!’ Temperance cried as soon as her chaperon exited. ‘I would never have consented for him to consult you had I any notion you might require such a thing! You must release him from that obligation, or I shall—’

‘What?’ Lady Sayleford interrupted. ‘Cancel your Season? Kick about the house in Brook Street for another year, or go bury yourself in the country at Entremer? Or do you think making a second attempt to convince your father to fund you will have better success than the first?’

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