“And he’s got Bertram with him!” Edward jumped up and down, pulling on Nurse Twinkleham’s arm. That redoubtable woman took the added weight in stride, her attention on thegentleman who was casting vicious aspersions on one of her charges.
“Accident! What happened to my son weren’t no accident. That hellion Bertram is responsible. It’s what comes of being cabined and cribbed by a bunch of mollycoddling spinster women. And if that boy ain’t here, it must be ’cause he knows he’s earned and due for a whipping,” Mr. Culpepper roared his lower lip thrust pugnaciously forward.
“I beg your pardon,” huffed Lady Elsbeth.
“Cut line, Culpepper,” snapped a deep voice from behind the group.
They all turned, astonished to see the Earl of Royce descending from an elegant equipage. He was accompanied by a disheveled Bertram who, it appeared, was developing a splendid black eye.
“There you are, you little beast!”
Mr. Culpepper strode over to Bertram and would have taken him by the lapels to shake him like a dog if the earl hadn’t laid a hand square in the middle of his chest, holding him at bay.
“Now see here, Royce, what’s the meanin’ of this? Can’t you see what he did to my boy Henry? You’re no kin of the boy. Stand away. The lad needs to be punished,” he said, pushing up his coat sleeves.
Royce held the man firm. One corner of his mouth rose in cold, sneering contempt. "What I see first is that Miss Grantley has met with some accident for which she needs attention, not verbal bullying from a man of breeding who should know better. Furthermore, I see nothing in your Henry’s condition to indicate he got the worst of the match.”
A frown of uncertainty creased Mr. Culpepper’s brow. He turned to look at Miss Grantley, finally appreciating her condition. "What happened to you?” he inquired bluntly, pouting a bit for having his sails trimmed.
During the altercation, Jane managed to adopt her formal society cloak. "I misstepped and took a tumble down a hill," she said serenely. "Won’t you all come inside? I’m confident we can discuss this situation in a more civilized fashion with the addition of some refreshments.” She gracefully extended her arm in the direction of the house and proceeded, head held high despite the trailing ruffle, filthy attire, and squashed bonnet, to lead the way.
It was a surprisingly subdued group that followed in her trail. Mrs. Culpepper, requesting her husband’s arm in lachrymose accents, leaned heavily on him as they walked toward the manor. Her whimpering and sniffles accompanied the procession. Henry sneered at Bertram and tried to look superior. Bertram held his head high, adopting Royce’s disdainful mien. Though engaged to Viscount Lemington's son, Maria Culpepper sidled up to the earl to bat her faintly darkened eyelashes and beg, in high, breathy accents, his arm to the house. The earl looked down his nose at her and allowed faint surprise to lift his brows. He gently reminded her she was not a matron yet, and Lady Elsbeth Ainstree's position as the daughter of a duke came before hers. Miss Culpepper blushed fiercely, stammering excuses, and ran off to follow her parents.
Lady Elsbeth’s lips twitched once, but she kept them from turning upward in a smile. "Well done,” she murmured, her eyes dancing with contained mirth.
“Do you think so?” drawled the earl.
“Oh yes, and don’t try to play that bored, jaded aristocrat with me. I’m entirely too familiar with the role. I know it for what it is and isn’t.”
“Why do I feel back in the schoolroom suddenly?” the earl mused to no one in particular. "And I find myself wondering how you came by your knowledge, for you are much too young.”
Lady Elsbeth could not help but preen slightly at his compliment, but in reaction, looked at him more severely. "I am older than you, my lord, and I’ll thank you to cease your cozening ways.”
He did not respond to her scold but stared ahead at Jane as she led the group. There was a considering expression in his eyes as if he suddenly remembered something and was turning that memory over in his mind, examining it. It was an expression that made Lady Elsbeth uneasy.
“I have discovered in my travels that people have layers upon layers of meaning behind their actions,” he said, as languidly as one would speak of the weather. "What at first may be taken for good or bad, upon reflection reveals hidden, almost forgotten reactions to circumstances in one’s past. The trick is to discover these repeat habits and sever the ties so that they may cease binding one in knots.”
He looked down at Lady Elsbeth, a slight smile playing upon his lips. "I find myself wondering from what experience you speak. Just as I find myself wondering what experience has driven your niece to her Ice Witch persona. Intriguing questions, don’t you think?”
Lady Elsbeth’s step faltered, but she responded readily to the gentle pressure he exerted to continue. She looked up at him uncertainly. She prayed he did not know any of her history but feared he did, for she remembered he’d been sent down from Oxford and was on the town the year she had her disastrous season. And he was just the sort to have been in John’s train, she thought bitterly. She felt a soupçon of relief that there was no discernible knowledge of her past in his expression. It was not something she wished anyone to remember. She silently congratulated herself on deftly staying out of John’s orbit all these years so that memories could not be stirred to bubble to the top of society’s scandal broth pot.
“La! I take back what I said. You must be bored to be considering that which would not plague an ant." She laughed slightly and smiled her understanding spinster smile, though her heart hammered loudly in her chest.
He did not react as most did. "My interest does not lie with the insect world, Lady Elsbeth, but rather with people,” he returned deftly and smiled so charmingly Elsbeth was left in doubt as to the precise meaning of his words. "But tell me,” he continued crisply, his bored air falling away, “how came Miss Grantley to her current state of disarray?”
She was relieved to have the conversation turned from herself. Lady Elsbeth launched into a detailed recital of the events of the afternoon. The earl nodded thoughtfully and patted her hand where it rested on his arm.
“I’ll take care of Culpepper,” he promised as they crossed the threshold, and her hand fell away from his arm. He strode over to Bertram’s side and placed a hand on the lad’s shoulder. "Culpepper,” he said loudly, “let’s allow the ladies to retire to the parlor while we gentlemen adjourn to the library to discuss this matter. A discussion of any pugilistic match is not for a lady’s delicate sensitivities.”
“My lord, you overstep yourself!” protested Jane, whirling around to face him. Her white, pinched face was beginning to show delicate signs of bruising.
“Now see here, Royce!” argued Mr. Culpepper, his lower lip thrust out as he pried his wife’s fingers from his arm.
The earl went cold. "We will discuss this matter in the library in a gentlemanly fashion. If afterward, you still feel the necessity of addressing Miss Grantley or Lady Elsbeth, you are free to do so. But I am not in the habit of discussing affairs of honor before women.”
“Affairs of honor!” Jane shrieked.
The earl ignored her. "Bertram, lead the way. Ladies, if you will excuse us, we will join you later. Miss Grantley, I would see to those scrapes and bruises immediately.” He turned to follow Bertram to the end of the hall and the door leading to the library. Mr. Culpepper and Henry followed silently behind. At the doorway, Royce stopped and requested a hovering Jeremy to fetch a bottle of port and glasses to the library.
