Chapter Twenty-One
Bertie was in a rage. That brother of Lady Catherine’s had no idea of taking care of her. All he cared about was getting rid of an encroaching suitor. Granted, it had looked pretty damning, but the man still had not spared a thought for his sister. He did not even react to the account of her attack.
And now that Redmayne was home, Bertie would not be able to see Lady Catherine again. He only hoped the maid would check on her. Perhaps he had better go inform Miss Braithwaite and Lady Clarice. They could see to it.
He changed his direction and walked swiftly to Blossom House.
“Is either of the ladies at home?” he asked Pursley.
“They are having tea, Sir Herbert. Follow me. They are in the Chinese saloon.”
Both ladies greeted him effusively.
“How did you leave dear Catherine?” Miss Braithwaite asked.
“Well enough. But I’m worried about her. Lord Redmayne came home. Tossed me out. Didn’t properly take in that his sister was injured. I’m afraid he won’t see to her care.”
Miss Braithwaite stood and tossed her napkin on the tea table. “I shall take myself off immediately. She needs to be seen to for a while yet. Insufferable man!”
She left the room as he called after her, “Thank you, Miss Braithwaite. You are a brick.”
Lady Clarice said, “This is all most unfortunate, Bertie. Sit down and have some tea. It’s scones and raspberry jam today.”
She prepared him a cup, remembering that he took neither milk nor sugar. He helped himself to a scone, realizing he was deucedly hungry.
“Lord Robert Redmayne is far too concerned with his own consequence,” said Lady Clarice. “He deserves to be taken down a peg or two.”
“Wish I had him in the boxing ring,” said Bertie.
“Sukey will settle him, never you worry. She is not afraid to speak her mind.” She set her teacup down. “Now, we never did get a chance to talk about the property you looked at.”
For the next few minutes, they discussed Lady Clarice’s plan for her reading school, then Pursley entered.
“Lady Deveridge is here with her children, my lady.”
Bertie looked up in surprise.
“This morning, I invited them over to meet Henry Five,” Lady Clarice explained.
Gweet burst into the room. “Uncle Bertie! I thought you were helping that sick lady.”
“Her brother is home,” he said.
Running to him, she threw her arms about his neck. “We have been to Astley’s Amphitheatre today! It was wonderful above all things! The animals are so clever.”
Bertie turned to his nephew. “And what did you think of it, Lord Deveridge?” he asked.
“It was top of the trees!” the boy said.
Having risen at his sister’s entrance, he went to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry I have deserted you. I’m glad you went to Astley’s without me.”
Lady Clarice pulled her bell rope. When a footman answered, she asked the man to bring Henry Five into the saloon. After he retreated on his errand, she offered the children tea and scones.
The tortoise was an immediate success. Warrie and Gweet were soon on the floor examining him. Henry Five stretched out his neck as though preening himself.
“He is ever so big,” said Warrie. “What does he eat?”
“Vegetables,” answered Lady Clarice. She said to Marianne, “I am sorry you have missed Sukey. She is attending Lady Catherine Redmayne.”
Marianne looked at her brother with a raised brow. “How is the lady?”
“Recovering,” said Bertie.
* * *
Once Bertie had left Blossom House, he decided a call on Cumberwell was in order. The man needed to know about Lady Catherine’s adventure at the Fotheringills’.
Cumberwell was packing his case to leave the office when Bertie arrived.
“Is anything amiss with Lady Catherine?” Cumberwell asked.
“No. She’s recovering well. Came to tell you what she told me about the night before her injury.” He recounted the scene that took place in the garden of the Fotheringill home.
“So she knows him, by Jove!”
“No. She doesn’t know him. It was his companion that spoke. They appear to be in business together. She didn’t see either one, but they most likely saw her. The more I think of it, the more I believe that is what was behind the attack on her.”
“I wish we knew who the blighter was,” said Cumberwell. “In my opinion, these attacks on her person do not make sense unless the Gentleman Smuggler is deathly afraid of being exposed for some reason. The only punishment for smuggling is a fine. There must be some added inducement for him to attempt murder and risk hanging.”
“You are right,” said Bertie. “That’s the only thing that makes sense.”
The man looked at Bertie, frowning. “What exactly is your interest in Lady Catherine?”
Bertie looked the man in the eye. “Personal.”
Startled, Cumberwell pulled in his chin. “I was unaware of your attachment.”
Bertie decided not to elaborate. After all, the man was betrothed to another woman. He owed him no explanation. Seeing no reason to prolong the interview, he took his leave.
* * *
Bertie was certain Redmayne had left instructions with his butler not to admit him, so his only recourse was to write a letter.
Wellingham House
London
Dear Lady Catherine,
I am distressed to have caused a disagreement between you and your brother. However, I wanted to let you know that I have been to Cumberwell and related to him your account of what happened in the garden at the Fotheringills’.
If you would be good enough to let me know how you are progressing in your recovery, I would appreciate it greatly.
Again, I regret the unpleasantness with your brother.
Very truly yours,
Sir B.
He dined at home with the Wellinghams and his family, deciding he would rather spend the evening at home with his friends than attend any of the entertainments to which he had been invited. He was not at all anxious to see Miss Mary Gilbert again.
Gweet and Warrie, who had been allowed to eat dinner in the dining room, now performed a simple piano duet for the group before adjourning to the nursery for bed. The rest of the evening was spent at cards.
At ten o’clock the butler brought Bertie a note that had been delivered from Westbury House. He put it in his pocket to read when he was alone. Penelope was his partner at whist and would allow no lack of concentration on his part.
After the women retired, he remained in the drawing room with Beau for a nightcap.
“What is the situation between you and Lady Catherine, old fellow? She is the reason you tried to give the Season a miss this year, is she not?”
“You are too perceptive by half,” Bertie replied, pouring himself a short whiskey. “Two barriers: Redmayne and Cumberwell.”
“Cumberwell is engaged, surely.”
“He still owns her heart, if I’m any judge.”
“As for Redmayne, he is an idiot,” Beau said. “Lord Westbury is the one who has the right to approve who she marries.”
“I decided when I came up to London that I would exert myself to claim the lady’s heart. But one can’t claim a heart that lives elsewhere.”
“Dreadfully sorry, Bertie. So is Penelope. She likes her. You know she came to the house the day after her ball in Somerset. I think she was looking for you.”
Bertie took this in. “That is strange. I wonder why.”
“Don’t give up. A woman’s heart is never an easy thing to understand. Sometimes I don’t think they understand it themselves. Penelope had another suitor she was determined to wed. You will remember, she didn’t think London would do for her.”
“What changed her mind?”
“A well-timed kiss, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Hmm.”
“Think about it.”
* * *
Lady Catherine’s letter was a thoughtful length.
Dear Sir Bertie,
Thank you for your letter, and do not worry about Robert. Please allow me to apologize on his behalf. He has far too much self-consequence. My father is not that way at all. He knows what is due the marquessate but is not a snob. Robert thinks for some reason that you want to marry me. He does not realize that could not be further from the truth. Do not worry. You have made that quite plain.
Speaking of my father, I have written him to tell him of my difficulties and asked him to come to London. He is an experimental botanist and, at this time of life, his major interest is in his projects, but he is also a fond father, and I miss him.
I feel that if I could just get a proper look at the man who belongs to that voice, I will be able to hand you the smuggler on a silver platter. At present, I am not at all kindly disposed toward him.
Miss B. says I am to get up tomorrow and take some moderate exercise around the house. Thank you so much for sending her to me. Robert was impossible, and she was able to quell him quite nicely.
Very truly yours,
Lady C.
Could not be further from the truth? What had given her that idea? He teased his wits. Perhaps the fact that he had not come to London until a month into the Season? That he had as much as given her the cut direct at the Fotheringill ball? How would things have gone on between them had she not been attacked? Surely she must guess his true feelings now!
Robert was right. Bertie was interested in marrying her. Maybe Beau and Penelope could help promote his cause. What a shame Lord Redmayne had not gone on to Newmarket.