‘Pray compose yourself, ma’am,’ the Duke said, lips twitching. ‘I am desperate to hear the end of the tale!’
‘Why, but she is quite beautiful! Quite distractingly lovely!’ Lady Eleanor said crossly, reaching for a handkerchief and blowing her nose hard. ‘And the sweetest of girls! How could Philip do such a thing? How could he?’
The Duke was accustomed to his aunt’s slightly long-winded and sometimes circuitous route when approaching a subject. There was no doubt, however, that he had not been expecting this.
‘The girl is beautiful?’ he echoed, dumbfounded. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I am sure! How can you be so nonsensical? She is beautiful and charming and intelligent! They are the perfect foil for each other, the one so fair and the other so dark! They’ll break all the hearts in Town!’
There was a silence. Alex got to his feet and strolled over to the window, hands in the pockets of his beautifully cut bottle-green coat. Lady Eleanor viewed his tall figure hopefully. If anyone could think of a way to bring them out of this mess, it had to be Alex. He was as cool-headed and resourceful as Philip was rash and quixotic. In fact, Lady Eleanor regretted that he sometimes seemed too cold, too passionless.
It had not always been thus. She could remember the youthful Alexander, Marquis of Hawarden as he was then, flushed with happiness and good humour on his wedding day some fourteen years before. Before his parents had died so tragically in a carriage accident, before he had had to take on the upbringing of his five siblings and before his beautiful young Duchess had disgraced his name with her open affairs, her gambling and the drinking which had lead to her premature death some six years after their marriage…
‘Are you still of a mind for Philip to wed, Alex?’ she asked a little hesitantly, as her godson seemed sunk deep in thought.
‘I am.’ Alex shook himself, turning away from his contemplation of the view of Berkeley Square. ‘He has to be made to conform, Aunt Eleanor, and what better way than by a respectable marriage and a brood of infants? And the Verey match is a good one! You may remember that it was my grandfather’s dearest wish that there should be an alliance between the Delahayes and the Vereys! I even went to Ambergate myself a few years ago to speak to Verey about it! All was set fair, and now Philip-’ He broke off, his lips tightening in exasperation.
‘You went to Ambergate?’ Lady Eleanor sat forward. ‘I had no notion! Did you meet Miss Verey whilst you were there?’
‘I did not. I saw her, but I did not speak to her. She was unaware of my visit since her father wished to keep the proposed marriage a secret from her at the time. I believe she was but fifteen and no doubt he did not judge her of an age to be considering her future husband!’
Lady Eleanor raised her brows. In her experience young ladies with far less than fifteen years in their dish were pre-occupied with their marriages.
‘What was your opinion of her?’
Alex shrugged as though he did not have an opinion. ‘Her looks were pleasant enough, I suppose, although she was a little plump. She seemed a bright, lively girl and hardly the frumpish dullard Philip is suggesting!’
Lady Eleanor frowned. ‘How could he have been so mistaken in her? I can scarce believe it! Why, the girl he described and the one that I met cannot be the same person!’
Alex was also frowning now. ‘Yes, I confess that that is the part that exercises me the most! I have every respect for your judgement, Aunt-’ he flashed her a grin ‘-and were it a choice between your assessment and Philip’s, I should settle for yours any time! But the fact remains that Philip describes Miss Verey in terms of pungent denunciation whilst you have seen her to be a veritable angel! One of you must be mistaken!’
‘My dear Alex,’ Lady Eleanor said trenchantly, ‘the whole Town will shortly see that my description is the accurate one! And not only can I vouch for Miss Verey’s personal charms, I know she has wit and style to match!’
‘Then,’ Alex Delahaye said slowly, ‘Philip must be lying. I can only assume he made up this outrageous fabrication to strengthen his refusal of the match. Perhaps he thought that I would relent if I believed Miss Verey to be utterly unpresentable! Evidently he is prepared to go to extreme lengths to avoid the marriage!’
‘Foolish,’ Lady Eleanor said shortly, ‘and dangerous. It only needed for Miss Verey to come to Town for him to be seen to be a liar and a scoundrel! I am surprised at Philip! He may be a loose fish but he is no fool!’
‘No,’ Alex said, ‘he is no fool. Which is why-’ He broke off and Lady Eleanor looked at him curiously.
‘What is in your mind, Alexander?’
‘I am thinking that there are various strands to be resolved here,’ the Duke said thoughtfully. ‘I am still of a mind to try to save the Verey match if I can. More importantly, I must speak to Philip about the sudden transformation in Miss Verey’s person and character. It is that, dear ma’am, which interests me the most.’ His dark gaze, reflective but with a faint hint of humour, rested on Lady Eleanor’s puzzled face.
‘We have assumed that it is Philip who is at fault here,’ he enlarged, ‘but no one has yet thought to ask of Miss Verey’s reaction to the proposed match. I imagine that you had too much delicacy to mention it to her, Aunt?’ Then, as Lady Eleanor nodded in bewilderment, he continued.
‘You say that she has wit and charm. Supposing, dear Aunt…just supposing…that Miss Verey herself has objections to Philip’s suit, objections that have been set aside by those making the match. She might have told her mother that she did not wish to marry, only to be overruled. Would she perhaps take matters into her own hands? And take any steps within her power to make herself displeasing to him?’
Lady Eleanor gasped, recoiling, grasping her parasol as if for comfort. ‘Alex! What a suggestion! How could she possibly-?’
‘Anyone may play the fool if they choose,’ Alex said drily. ‘It is more difficult to appear ugly if one is not, but scarcely impossible with a little disguise! And Philip is not very discerning! I wonder…’
‘Are you truly suggesting that Miss Verey has tricked Philip?’ Lady Eleanor looked as though she would be reaching for the hartshorn next. ‘No! Oh, no, I cannot credit it!’
Alex smiled. ‘I may, of course, be doing Miss Verey the greatest injustice. But it should be possible to discover the circumstances under which she and Philip met, the witnesses, the words that passed between them. I believe that I could find out quite easily whether or not Philip has been cozened!’
Lady Eleanor was still looking confused and deeply reproachful. ‘Alex, you have the cunning of the devil even to think of it!’
‘Thank you, Aunt Eleanor!’ Once again, Alex grinned at her. ‘I confess to a certain curiosity about Miss Jane Verey! It is stimulating to suspect that I may have met an adversary as devious as I!’
‘No, it is impossible! Not that sweet girl!’
‘Well, we shall see!’
‘How do you intend to go about it?’ Lady Eleanor asked with misgiving.
‘I will make inquiries,’ Alex said slowly, ‘and I intend to meet Miss Verey. I will judge for myself if she be innocent angel or cunning jade!’
‘Oh, Jane, is this not fine?’ Sophia sighed in ecstasy. ‘Such beautiful shops! Why, not even Bath can rival it! I declare, I could spend an entire day just looking!’
Jane stifled a yawn. She already felt as though she had spent a whole day doing precisely that. This had to be the twentieth shop that they had visited that afternoon.
When the shopping trip had been mooted after breakfast, Jane’s brother Simon had looked horrified and had taken refuge at his club. Jane wished that she had a similar choice. It was not that she disliked shopping, precisely-she paused to watch her mother and Sophia agonising between two exquisitely painted fans-it was simply that she grew bored with it so very quickly. The silks and taffetas, slippers and shoes, hats and gloves that so fascinated her friend could not hold her attention for long. Now, if only it had been books…Jane smothered a giggle as she remembered the look of pained disapproval on her mother’s face when she had tentatively suggested that they visit James Lackington’s ‘Temple of the Muses’ in Finsbury Square.