"But there must have been a mistake. Graystone would never offer for me." Augusta pondered the problem furiously as she paced back and forth. " 'Tis obvious what happened. He offered for Claudia and you misunderstood."
"Don't believe so." Sir Thomas buried himself deeper in his book.
"Come, now, Uncle Thomas. You know you get quite absentminded on occasion. You have frequently confused Claudia's name with mine, especially when you are working on one of your books, as you are now."
"What do you expect? You were both named after Roman emperors," Sir Thomas said by way of excuse. "Bound to be the occasional mistake."
Augusta groaned. She knew her uncle. When he was concentrating on old Greeks and Romans it was impossible to get his full attention. He had no doubt been just as preoccupied earlier when Graystone had called. No wonder matters had gotten confused. "I cannot believe you have done something that will affect my future so drastically without even consulting me."
"He'll make you a sound husband, Augusta."
"I do not want a sound husband. I do not particularly want any sort of husband at all, least of all a sound one. What the devil does that mean, anyway? Sound. A horse is sound."
"The thing is, my girl, you are not likely to get a better offer."
"Very likely not. But don't you see, Uncle Thomas, the offer was not for me. I am quite certain of it." Augusta whirled about, the ruby skirts of her habit pooling around her boots. "Oh, Uncle Thomas, I do not mean to be short with you. Heaven knows you have been all that is kind and generous to me and I shall be forever grateful, you must know that."
"Just as I am grateful to you, my dear, for all you have done for Claudia this Season. You have brought her out of her shell and turned her from a shy little mouse into a sensation. Her mother would have been proud."
" 'Twas nothing, Uncle Thomas. Claudia is a beautiful, accomplished woman. She merely needed advice on her clothes and on the proper ways of conducting herself in Society."
"All of which you could provide."
Augusta shrugged. "A legacy from my mother. She entertained frequently and taught me much. I have also had the assistance of Lady Arbuthnott, who knows everyone. So you must not hand me all the credit. I am well aware you gave me the task of launching Claudia as a remedy for my melancholy. And it was kind of you. Truly it was."
Sir Thomas grunted in surprise. "As I recall, I merely asked you to accompany Claudia to a soiree one evening. You took charge from there. You made her one of your projects. And whenever you are involved in a project, my dear, things have a way of happening."
"Thank you, Uncle Thomas. But about Graystone. I must insist—"
"Now, don't you worry about Graystone. As I said, he'll make you a sound husband. Man's solid as a rock. Got brains and a fortune. What more could a woman want?"
"Uncle Thomas, you don't understand."
"You're just feeling a bit emotional at the moment, that's all. The Northumberland side of the family always was emotional."
Augusta stared at her uncle in seething frustration and then she rushed from the room before she burst into tears.
Augusta was still simmering with frustration later that evening as she dressed for the night's array of soirees and parties. But at least she was no longer on the point of tears, she told herself with pride. This was a crisis that called for action, not emotion.
Claudia studied Augusta's scowl with gentle concern. Then, with a naturally graceful gesture, she poured two cups of tea and offered one to her cousin with a soothing smile. "Calm yourself, Augusta. All will be well."
"How the devil can all be well when such a dreadful mistake has been made? Dear God, Claudia, don't you understand? Disaster is upon us. Uncle Thomas got so excited he went ahead and sent the notices off to the papers. By tomorrow morning Graystone and I shall be officially engaged. There will be no honorable way for him to get out of the arrangement once the news is in print."
"I understand."
"Then how can you sit there pouring tea as if nothing has happened?" Augusta slammed her cup and saucer down and shot to her feet. She whirled about and began striding back and forth across the width of her bedchamber. Her dark brows were drawn together above her narrowed eyes.
For once Augusta was hardly aware of what she was wearing. Her mind had been in such turmoil that she had been unable to concentrate on the usually pleasant task of choosing her attire. Her maid Betsy had selected the rose-colored evening gown with its daringly cut neckline edged with tiny satin roses. It was Betsy who had chosen the matching satin slippers and elbow-length gloves. And it was Betsy who had decided to dress Augusta's dark chestnut brown hair in the Grecian style. The cascading ringlets bobbed about wildly as Augusta stalked back and forth.
"I fail to see the problem," Claudia murmured. "I had the impression you were growing rather fond of Graystone."
"That is simply not true."
"Come, now, Augusta. Even Papa noticed your interest in the earl and remarked upon it just the other day."
"I asked to read a copy of one of Graystone's recent treatises on some moldering old Roman, that's all. You can hardly call that a sign of deep fondness."
"Well, be that as it may, I am not surprised Papa went ahead and accepted Graystone's offer on your behalf. He assumed you would be delighted, as indeed you should be. It is a wonderful match, Augusta. You cannot deny it."
Augusta stopped pacing long enough to give her cousin an anguished glance. "But don't you see, Claudia? 'Tis all a mistake. Graystone would never have asked for my hand in marriage. Never in a million years. He thinks me a terrible hoyden, an unruly scapegrace who is always one step away from falling into a scandal broth. To him I am an ungovernable little baggage. In his eyes I would make a most unsuitable countess. And he is quite right."
"Nonsense. You would make a lovely countess," Claudia said loyally.
"Thank you." Augusta groaned in frustrated annoyance. "But you are quite wrong. Graystone has already been married to a most suitable female, from what I have heard, and I have no desire to try to live up to my predecessor's standards."
"Oh, yes. He was married to Catherine Montrose, was he not? I seem to recall Mother talking about her. Mrs. Montrose was a great believer in the value of Mother's books for young ladies. She raised Catherine on them, I believe. And Mother always claimed Catherine Montrose was a fine example of the efficacy of her instructional techniques."
"What a jolly notion." Augusta went to the window and stood gazing forlornly down into the gardens behind the town house. "Graystone and I have absolutely nothing in common. We are violently opposed on all the modern questions. He does not care for free-thinking females, you know. He has made that quite clear. And he does not even know the half of it. He would no doubt have a fit of the vapors if he realized some of the things I have done."
"I cannot envision Lord Graystone having a fit of the vapors under any circumstances, and in any event I do not think you behave so very poorly, Augusta."
Augusta winced. "You are too generous by half. Believe me, Claudia, Graystone cannot possibly want me for his bride."
"Then why did he ask for your hand?"
"I do not believe he did," Augusta announced grimly. "In fact, I am certain he did not. As I told you, it was all a ghastly error. He no doubt thought he was asking for your hand."
"Mine?" Claudia's cup clattered in the saucer. "Good heavens. That is impossible."
"Not at all." Augusta frowned intently. "I have been thinking about it and I can see precisely how the mistake occurred. Graystone no doubt arrived here this afternoon and asked for the hand of a Miss Ballinger, Uncle Thomas persuaded himself the earl meant me because I am the eldest. But of course he did not. He meant you."