And good riddance too.
There had perhaps not been any bleaker moment in her whole life.
IT WAS A BUSYmorning. Jocelyn rode in the park, where he met Baron Pottier and Sir Conan Brougham. The latter had already spoken with the seconds of the two Forbes brothers and made arrangements for the duels to be fought on successive mornings one week hence in Hyde Park. He would single-handedly be bringing the park back into fashion as a venue for meetings of honor if he did not soon change the family of his dueling partners, Jocelyn thought wryly.
It was not a pleasant prospect. Two more men would be given their chance to snuff out his life. And he did not believe that the Reverend Josiah Forbes, at least, was one to be given the trembles by the famous black Tresham stare.
But Viscount Kimble joined them and then Ferdinand, and Jocelyn put the thought of the duels firmly behind him.
“Word spread last night like fire in a woodshed,” Ferdinand said with a grin. “Miss Jane Ingleby turning out to be Lady Sara Illingsworth! It is the sensation of the hour, Tresham. Those people who were at your soiree and heard her sing were preening themselves at Lady Wardle’s, I can tell you. Old Hardinge was trying to convince all who would listen that he had guessed it all along. She was far too genteel, he said, to be anyone but Lady Sara.”
“Where did you find her, Tresham?” Baron Pottier asked. “And how did you discover the truth? When I think that every time we called on you at Dudley House, there she was. And we never so much as suspected.”
“Is it true,” Sir Conan asked, “that her name has been cleared, Tresham?”
“It was all a mistake.” Jocelyn waved one careless hand and then tipped his hat to a couple of ladies who were riding in the opposite direction. “I spoke to Durbury last evening just before he set out for Cornwall. Jardine is not dead. Indeed, he has fully recovered from his little accident. Durbury came to town and hired a Runner to find Lady Sara simply to tell her there was nothing to worry about. The rumors spread, as rumors will, quite independently of him.”
“But the theft, Tresham?” Baron Pottier asked.
“There was no theft,” Jocelyn said. “How susceptible we all are to gossip. It makes one wonder if we need to find something better to do.”
His friends laughed as if he had made the joke of the morning.
“But rumors have a nasty habit of lingering,” Jocelyn continued, “unless there is something to take their place. I for one will be calling upon Lady Sara at Lady Webb’s and even pursuing her acquaintance.”
Baron Pottier roared with laughter. “Ho, Tresham,” he said, “that will do it. That will create new gossip. It will be said that you are hankering after a leg shackle.”
“Quite so,” Jocelyn said agreeably. “One would certainly not wish the lady to be looked upon as someone who is somehow tainted, would one?”
“I will call upon her too, Tresham,” Ferdinand said. “I want to take another look at Lady Sara now that I know sheisLady Sara. I say, this is famous!”
“It will be my pleasure to call upon her too, Tresh,” the viscount said.
“I daresay my mother and my sister would be pleased to make her acquaintance,” Sir Conan added. “I’ll take them to call, Tresham. My mother has an acquaintance with Lady Webb.”
His friends understood, Jocelyn was relieved to find. Kimble and Brougham had the advantage of knowing the full truth, of course, but even the other two seemed to realize there was a certain embarrassment in his having employed the lady as a nurse for three weeks. All were willing to do their part in drawing Jane into society, making her respectable, helping squash any vestiges of doubt about the charges that had been made against her.
The new sensation that would finally replace the old, of course, would be news that the Duke of Tresham was paying court to the woman who had once been his nurse.
All would be well. None of the few people who knew that Lady Sara Illingsworth had been his mistress would ever breathe a word of the fact. She would be safe, her reputation restored.
The conversation turned at length to a reliving of yesterday’s fight.
He was at breakfast later, having decided to remain at home to read the papers before proceeding to White’s, when Angeline arrived. She swept into the dining room unannounced.
“Tresham,” she said, “whatever could you have been thinking of, you and Ferdie, to have taken onthreeof the Forbes brothers in the park yesterday? I was all aflutter when I heard. But how perfectly splendid that all three of them had to be carried to the nearest carriage, two of them quite insensible and the other with a broken nose. What a shame it was not all five. That would have been a glorious victory for the Dudleys, and I daresay you could have done it too. I suppose it is true that you have been drawn into dueling with the other two. Heyward says such information is not for a lady’s ears, but he would not deny it so I daresay it is true. I shall not have a wink of sleep between now and then. You will be killed for sure, and what will I do then? And if you kill them, you will be forced to flee to Paris and Heywardstillsays he will not take me there, odious man, even though I would willingly forgo the pleasures of Brighton. And, Tresham,whatis this I hear of the Ingleby woman’s turning out to be Lady Sara Illingsworth?”
“Do have a seat, Angeline,” Jocelyn said, waving one languid hand at the chair opposite, “and a coffee.” He raised one finger in the direction of the butler at the sideboard. “And do remove that more than usually ghastly pea-green bonnet, I beg you. I fear it will interfere with my digestion.”
“Is it true?” she asked. “Do tell me it is. It is just the sort of story we Dudleys revel in, is it not? You harboring an ax murderer as your nurse and presenting her to a select gathering of thetonas a nightingale. It is quite priceless.” She went off into peals of merry laughter as Hawkins bent over her to fill her cup with coffee.
She had made no move to take off her bonnet. Jocelyn regarded it with distaste. “Lady Sara Illingsworth is now at Lady Webb’s,” he said. “I would be obliged if you would call upon her there, Angeline. The Lord knows why, but you are the only respectable Dudley—probably because a dry stick like Heyward married you and keeps you on some sort of rein, though heaven knows it is not a tight one.”
She laughed merrily. “Heyward a dry stick?” she said. “Yes, he is, is he not? In public, at least.”
Jocelyn’s expression became more pained as her blush clashed horribly with the pink plumes of her bonnet.
“I shall certainly call at Lady Webb’s,” she said. “Heyward will escort me there this afternoon. I cannot resist having one more look at her, Tresham. Is she likely to be wielding an ax? How enormously exciting that would be. Heyward would be forced to risk his life in defending me.”
