Her Grace in Disgrace (The Widows of Woburn Place)

by Claudia Harbaugh

  “I will do my duty, but I will not marry Miss Hyde-Price. Behind her cherubic appearance lies a deceitful, selfish, grasping chit with scheming mind and a heart of stone.”

  “Really, Andrew must you be so dramatic? She can hardly be as nasty as you paint her. She is just out of the schoolroom.” Lady Saybrooke attempted a laugh to lighten the mood. Lord Saybrooke’s mood did not lighten as only three more carriages had advanced.

  “She is that and more. The only reason I have danced with her of late is that she has an uncanny ability to sneak up on me unawares and remind me in front of witnesses of a promised dance that I did not promise. As a gentleman, I cannot refuse her the dance. One dance of an evening I can endure, but a life time of being leg shackled to her would be insupportable. If I cannot marry for love, I at least must have some affection, some respect for my spouse.”

  Lady Saybrooke was quiet for a moment. Saybrooke saw that two more carriages had deposited their occupants and their own coach inched closer to the doors. Finally his mother spoke. “Do you still love Isobel Kennilworth?”

  Saybrooke’s eyes grew stormy. “We are not speaking of Izzy, mama.”

  “Answer my question, Andrew.” Lady Saybrooke spoke in a deceptively mild tone, but the determination showed in her eyes. Andrew sighed and told the truth.

  “Yes. I will always love Isobel.” He spoke with an overwhelming sadness.

  “You must know that she is not a proper wife for you now that you have become Saybrooke. Especially after the scandal at Adelphi.”

  Saybrooke’s nostrils flared and he spoke through clenched teeth. “I will hear not a word against Isobel Kennilworth, Mama. She has been unfairly treated and is more worthy than any simpering chit with a large dowry and a spotless reputation.”

  “Andrew, you cannot think of marrying Isobel,” Lady Saybrooke gasped.

  “No, I cannot, for she will not have me.” Saybrooke saw with relief that they had reached the front of the house. Before his mother could say another word, the footman opened the door and Saybrooke alighted, gently helping his mother down after him.

  Sometime later, Saybrooke returned another young miss to her doting mama. He knew he was being hard on the young ladies assembled here. He had danced with a number of quite lovely, kind, and amusing ladies, but they were not Isobel. Saybrooke congratulated himself that he had avoided Miss Hyde-Price successfully so far. He saw Finch across the room and went to greet him.

  Lady Joanna Temple had just finished dancing with Lord Pelton and was as cross as crabs. He seemed not to notice her foul mood. Instead the attentive Lord Pelton had offered to fetch her lemonade. She had refused, and excused herself, claiming a small tear in the hem of her gown. Mary Parrish, just returning from her dance with a Mr. Fenton, agreed to accompany her to the ladies retiring room. Miss Parrish looked at Joanna’s gown appraisingly.

  “Where is the tear?” she asked.

  “There is no tear. I just needed to get away for a few moments.” Miss Parrish looked at her friend with concern. Poor Joanna, she despised all of this flummery.

  The ladies’ retiring room was, in reality, two rooms. The first, an anteroom, had several chairs and couches scattered about, the second was just beyond it through a doorway and had a little more privacy with a few screens where ladies could remove their gowns if they needed mending. The two friends entered the retiring room in silence and heard the voice of Miss Hyde-Price coming from the next room. It was clear that she was trying to speak in hushed tones, but her mama was notoriously hard of hearing, and so her words were quite audible. “No, Mama. You must wait for five minutes, and then come along. Too soon and I will not have time to prepare. It must be done subtly.”

  “Are you sure about this, Lydia?” Mrs. Hyde-Price said in a worried voice.

  Before Miss Hyde-Price could answer, two more young ladies entered the anteroom giggling, effectively drowning out the rest of Miss and Mrs. Hyde-Price’s conversation. Lady Joanna looked at Miss Parrish and raised her eyebrows. Just then the mother and daughter entered the anteroom and greeted Lady Joanna briefly before exiting.

  The other two girls were engaged in gossip and paid no attention to Lady Joanna and Miss Parrish. Lady Joanna turned to her friend. “I wonder what Miss Lydia Hyde-Price is up to?”

  “No good, I imagine,” replied the usually sweet Miss Parrish in a knowing tone.

  “I think we should keep an eye on her,” suggested Lady Joanna.

  Miss Parrish nodded her head in agreement and they made their way back to the ballroom.

  If Lady Joanna’s partners found her distracted as she danced, they made no mention of it. If they noticed the object of her fixed attention, they would have been surprised, but they did not. Nonetheless, Lady Joanna managed to keep Miss Hyde-Price in her silver shot silk gown in sight at all times. As she danced with Lord Stanhope, she watched as Miss Hyde-Price approached Lord Saybrooke, who was chatting with a group of friends. She watched as Miss Hyde-Price said something which made all of the gentlemen, save Lord Saybrooke, chuckle. The other gentlemen bowed and left the couple to themselves. Saybrooke tried to school his face into a passive mask, Joanna noted, but was failing miserably. Miss Hyde-Price spoke again to Lord Saybrooke and he heaved a sigh, but offered his arm and the two walked through the French doors that led out to the terrace and garden.

  Lady Joanna searched for Miss Parrish, but she was also dancing. They exchanged a knowing glance and Lady Joanna pretended to trip and claimed a twisted ankle. Lord Stanhope graciously led her to a chair by the French doors as requested. The dutiful young man returned with the requested lemonade only to find Lady Joanna gone!

  In the garden, Lord Saybrooke was fuming. Miss Hyde-Price chattered away in a one way conversation, trying to keep the Viscount moving further into the garden.

  “I believe we have gone far enough Miss Hyde-Price. It would not be proper to be out of sight of the doors.” Lord Saybrooke said, his tone severe.

  “Fustian! You must not be so strait-laced My Lord. Who will see us?” prattled Miss Hyde-Price good-naturedly.

  “No one, and that is quite the point.”

  Miss Hyde-Price conceded, but managed to maneuver Lord Saybrooke so that his back was to the door. She carried on an absurd monologue for a moment longer; until she saw her mother and Lady Tweed enter the garden. Suddenly she flung her arms around Lord Saybrooke’s neck. The gentleman quite taken by surprise began to protest, but before Mrs. Hyde-Price and her friend got too close, Lady Joanna popped out from behind the shrubbery and grabbed Miss Hyde-Price’s left arm, pulling it around her own shoulder.

  Loudly she said, “Oh, my dear Miss Hyde-Price, your poor ankle. Help me get her inside, my Lord.”

  Saybrooke, first stunned, now grinning from ear to ear answered her. “Indeed, Lady Joanna, we must get the injured young lady to a chair. I will gladly help you.”

  By this time, Mrs. Hyde-Price had reached her daughter and looked at the scene in confusion. She gave her rehearsed speech, however, as planned. “What is going on here?”

  Lady Joanna answered before Lydia Hyde-Price could speak. “Your daughter, Lord Saybrooke, and I were walking in the garden and Miss Hyde-Price had the misfortune to lose her footing and twist her ankle. I do not believe it is serious, but we should have her ankle examined.”

  Miss Hyde-Price found her voice. “My ankle is fine!” Without further comment she pulled away from Saybrooke and Lady Joanna and stomped back into the crowded ballroom, closely followed by her baffled mother and a clueless Lady Tweed.

  Lord Saybrooke, extending his arm to Lady Joanna, looked at the girl with gratitude and something closely resembling awe. “I don’t know how to thank you. The wily chit almost caught me in the parson’s mousetrap. I owe you a great deal, Lady Joanna. Ask anything, I will try to do it.”

  “There is one thing,” said Lady Joanna slyly, making Lord Saybrooke a bit discomfited. “I would like you to give me Miss Kennilworth’s direction.”

  Saybro
oke was relieved at the simple request. “Is that all? Why, anyone could give you that?”

  “Ah, but no one will. I have ferretted out that it is on Woburn Place in Bloomsbury and I have even gone there to watch for her, to no avail. I can now tell you a number of houses where she does not live, but that leaves a host of others to choose from. I even contemplated going from door to door, but soon gave up the idea. So, will you help me?” Lady Joanna asked prettily.

  “But, how will you go to see her? Will your mama approve?”

  “Certainly not, Lord Saybrooke, but I have my ways, and remember you owe me,” returned Lady Joanna a trifle sternly.

  “I will gladly give you the address with one provision,” countered Saybrooke.

  “Name it,” said Lady Joanna gamely.

  “Report back to me after your visit and tell me how she does.”

  “Agreed,” said Lady Joanna, extending her hand for a handshake.

  Laughing, Lord Saybrooke shook the minx’s hand and their deal struck, they continued into the ballroom.

  Chapter 11

  The following afternoon, Isobel stood in the parlor staring out the window at Woburn Place. Other than her treasured early morning rides in Regent’s Park with Bella, Isobel had only attempted to venture past the four walls of her house a handful of times since the house party at Adelphi. Twice she had gone to Bond Street; once to replace threadbare gloves at the milliners and once to buy a new perfume. On both occasions, she was given the cut direct by former friends. On an outing to Hatchard’s on Piccadilly Street to replenish her rapidly dwindling book supply, Lady Middleton had left the shop without her books when Isobel entered. She did not fare much better in Green Park or at Gunters. She was feeling decidedly sorry for herself when a crested coach drew up outside her house and Lady Joanna and Miss Parrish alighted.

  Renfrew, a red-blooded young man, was speechless at the sight of two pretty young ladies in their finery. So overcome was he that he led them into the parlor without announcing them or relieving them of their lightweight wraps. After greeting her guests, Isobel noted his negligence.

  “Renfrew, please take the ladies wraps.” Renfrew did not move. “Renfrew!”

  “Yes, Miss?” he asked, still dazed.

  “Lady Joanna’s spencer and Miss Parrish’s cape, if you please.” Renfrew reddened, took the wraps and hastened to leave. “And Renfrew, please ask Mrs. Kitchen to prepare tea.”

  “Tea, Miss?” he said stupidly.

  “Yes, Renfrew, tea. The beverage we partake of at least three times daily.”

  “Of course, Miss. Tea.” Renfrew quickly left the room, his face the shade of Lady Joanna’s crimson pelisse.

  “I must confess to be surprised at your visit,” said Isobel uneasily.

  “Are you?” cried Lady Joanna, completely at ease. “I distinctly remember making plans to visit, don’t you Mary?”

  “Yes, of course, but that was before,” Isobel stated vaguely.

  “Before what?” Lady Joanna asked feigning ignorance.

  “You well know what, you little minx.” Isobel could not help smile at this imperturbable girl.

  “Oh, if you mean that nonsense with Westcott, no one blames you.”

  “Do not try and gammon me. I know that everyone blames me. According to the ton, the gentleman is always guiltless.”

  “Well, I for one do not subscribe to that point of view. Do you, Mary?” Lady Joanna asked her young friend.

  “No, I do not,” said the vicar’s daughter.

  “While that is all well and good, I highly doubt that, your mother, Lady Doncaster is in accord with you. She will be livid when she finds you have come here,” insisted Isobel.

  “She will never know, Miss Kennilworth.”

  Isobel stared at Lady Joanna, amazed at her nonchalance. “You came in your parents’ coach, Lady Joanna, with a coachman and footman. You cannot think that they will not tell.”

  “Oh, I do not think it. I know it,” said Lady Joanna in all seriousness. “You see, John, our coachman has been pilfering Papa’s brandy and I am blackmailing him. If he tells Mama, he will be found out.”

  Isobel was in awe of the complete composure with which Lady Joanna admitted to blackmailing her coachman. “And the footman?”

  Miss Parrish, mostly silent until now, giggled. “Oh, he fancies himself in love with Joanna.”

  Joanna had the grace to blush. “It is true.”

  “Please do not tell me that you are considering running off with the footman!” declared Isobel with concern.

  “Oh, no, Miss Kennilworth. For though he is exceedingly pleasing to look at, as most footmen are, he has absolutely no conversation,” said Joanna with disgust.

  “Are you saying you would consider it if he was a lively conversationalist?” asked Isobel in amazement.

  “Perhaps, but since he is not, it is neither here nor there,” the young lady pronounced with finality.

  The tea arrived at that moment and Renfrew managed to carry in the tray without spilling a drop, despite the fact that his eyes continually strayed to the young female visitors. Isobel quickly rid herself of the moonstruck butler and poured the tea.

  “Since you are here and are sure you will not be found out, we might as well enjoy a good gossip. Tell me of all the ton doings and leave nothing out.”

  The door opened to the parlor and Lady Whitcomb entered. “Isobel,” she began, and stopped when she took in that there were visitors.

  “Aunt Maude, allow me to introduce Lady Joanna Temple and Miss Mary Parrish. Ladies, my Aunt, Lady Whitcomb.”

  Lady Whitcomb looked at Lady Joanna and cocked her round little head to the side. “You are the Earl of Doncaster’s eldest, are you not?”

  “His eldest daughter. I have a brother, James, Viscount Montrose, the ‘heir’ ”. The last she said with disdain. “I also have two sisters who are still in the schoolroom.”

  “I know your mother slightly, though she is a good bit younger than I. I hate to spoil the prospect of such a lively visit with two young ladies, but would she approve of your being here, my dear?”

  And so, the story of Lady Joanna’s cunning and conquest had to be retold. Lady Maude squealed with joy. “My dear Lady Joanna, you are so like Isobel that I know that I shall like you very well. And you, too, Miss Parrish, for your good taste in friends.”

  “Am I truly like Miss Kennilworth?” asked Lady Joanna hopefully.

  “Indeed you are, and I have many a story to prove it,” Lady Whitcomb said with glee.

  “Aunt! You must not tell stories; Lady Joanna is wild enough without giving her further ideas,” protested Isobel. But her aunt, of course, ignored her.

  And so the better part of an hour was whiled away in the telling of Isobel’s many misdeeds and fixes, all of which Isobel dearly wished would remain untold. Once that subject had been exhausted the younger ladies regaled the tenants of 65 Woburn place with all of the on dits of the Beau Monde, including Saybrooke’s near miss with Miss Hyde-Price.

  “You brazen baggage!” declared Isobel, full of admiration despite her words.

  “She saved him,” added Miss Parrish unnecessarily.

  “I wanted him to be free to marry his choice, not to be gulled by that harpy, Miss Hyde-Price,” she looked at Isobel pointedly. Isobel colored and changed the subject.

  “And what about your beaux, Lady Joanna? Miss Parrish?” asked Isobel with interest.

  “Mary has captivated Captain Danvers,” Lady Joanna teased, proud of her clever word play.

  Miss Parrish, not to be outdone said, “And Joanna has landed Lord Pelton.”

  Lady Joanna frowned at her friend. “That is not nearly so clever and it is also not true,” she asserted acidly.

  “Fustian. He is smitten with you!” cried Miss Parrish.

  “He is amused by me. He claims I am a clever little minx and he finds me enormously entertaining. ‘Such a charming child’ ”, mimicked Lady Joanna, sounding a good bit like Lord Pelton
. “He also says I am beautiful.” With this she rolled her eyes.

  Mary elaborated by way of explanation. “She does not believe she is beautiful.”

  “Because I am not,” said Lady Joanna bluntly.

  “Do not be a widgeon, Lady Joanna. Considering how little effort you put into your appearance, you are quite stunning,” contradicted Isobel.

  Lady Joanna blushed at the compliment and rushed into speech to cover her embarrassment. “It is true I dislike fussing over my appearance. My maid has given notice three times since we have come to London, but Mama always talks her round.”

  “I think Lord Pelton truly cares for you, Joanna,” Miss Parrish affirmed.

  “Well, I do not believe it,” Lady Joanna said with passion. She looked at Lady Whitcomb pleadingly. “You understand, do you not, Lady Whitcomb. Miss Kennilworth tells me that you believe that romantic relationships should be based on love and mutual respect. Is that not so?”

  “Indeed it is, Lady Joanna. It seems to me that Lord Pelton’s interest in you is superficial,” pronounced Lady Whitcomb.

  “Do not encourage her, Aunt Maude,” hissed Isobel.

  “It is become late, Joanna. We should go. We still need to stop off at the circulating library to get books as we told your Mama we would do,” Miss Parrish said practically.

  Before they could take their leave, Renfrew entered again, having regained a bit of his dignity, what little he possessed, and announced: “Lord Charles Aiken”.

  Lord Charles entered and was taken aback to see two young ladies in addition to the two ladies he had expected to see. Hasty introductions were made and Charles, though polite, seemed uninterested in Isobel’s guests. Miss Parrish reiterated their necessity of a prompt departure, which they did with embraces all around, except for Lord Charles, of course, and promises to come again.

  Once the younger ladies had departed, Isobel sent Renfrew to refresh the tea tray and Lady Whitcomb begged herself to be excused, claiming a deadline she needed to make. Lord Charles gladly released her, for it was Isobel he wanted to see.