“She was sad enough when she came, dressed all in black and all, then Father and Mother got to talking with her and discovered she’d recently got some hapless dolt to ask her to marry him.”
“And that was when the giggles and squeals began,” James concluded. “You don’t seem to be much in favor of the wedded state.”
“No, I’m not. At least not now; I ain’t ready.–And so I told Georgia at least half a dozen times.”
“Determined to sow some wild oats first?” James asked laconically.
“It’s a man’s rite of passage!”
James raised an eyebrow at the viscount, much like he would have done to a junior officer who spewed nonsense.
“Is that what you were doing with Miss Inglewood?”
“What? No—I knew better. Father made sure I knew! Oh, we flirted, yes. She was fun to be around, but no. Nothing else. Nothing. No matter what she said, or anyone else.”
“I hadn’t known she said elsewise. What did she say?”
“She had it in her beautiful little noggin that I would be an easy catch, and she could be a countess. Said it would be to my advantage to marry her. I never could figure out how she came up with that notion. Woolly-headed female.”
“From what I have heard of her, I would have thought she would hold out for a duchess, or at least a marchioness.”
“That’s what I thought, too, but she up and decided she’d have the baby she carried and tell everyone it was mine unless I got her some pennyroyal. Damned fool chit.”
“And did you?” James asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Mr. Hopkins sliding more in their direction, listening.
“What?” Kendell asked, irritated.
“Get her pennyroyal.”
Kendell reared backward on his stool. “No! –Well, I couldn’t,” he admitted, leaning forward again. “The apothecary in Maidstone was out of the herb. Had a run on it recently. Said it only grows in marshy areas, like Romney Marsh, and he likely wouldn’t get any more for another month or more.” He waved his empty beer mug in the innkeeper’s direction. Mr. Hopkins hurried forward to grab his mug and refill it.
“When did this happen? When did you go to Maidstone?”
The viscount’s face screwed up as he considered. He scratched the back of his head. “I think two days before shedied… Yes. Two days, because that’s when I got three new decks of cards from the stationers for game night.”
“Game night?” James repeated.
“Once or twice a month at the brewery. Low stakes, as most around here don’t have the coin for more. Gives me practice for when I go to London. I intend to win big in London,” he said. He grabbed one hand with the other and cracked his knuckles, a schoolboy brag.
“I see,” James said slowly. “And when do you intend to take London by storm?”
“In the fall, during the little season. That’s when my mother wants to go. I’ll go with her and enjoy myselfotherwise,” he said, wriggling his eyebrows. “When I’m not playing the dutiful son escorting her around.” He laughed. He slouched on the bar again.
“Lord Kendell, I’d venture you had nought to eat today,” said Mrs. Hopkins. She set a bowl of stew before him along with a large chunk of bread. “Eat. Ya need somethin’ in your gullet other than beer, though fine Mortlake beer it be. Eat!” She shoved a spoon in his hand and then turned to go back to her kitchen.
“Managing female,” Kendell slurred, but he did dip the spoon in the hearty stew for a bite.
Sir James laughed. He looked over at Mr. Hopkins. “Quite like Lady Branstoke.” He tossed coins on the bar and slid off his stool. He clasped Kendell’s shoulder. “Best take Mrs. Hopkin’s advice and eat the stew. You’ll need your strength. Remember, Miss Hope Jones has a sister, and she might be here by tomorrow if the tides and weather stay in Captain Horsley’s favor.”
Kendell slid him a side-eyed glance. “You don’t need to spoil my meal.”
Sir James merely laughed again and left the tavern to return to Summerworth. It was time to compare notes with his darling wife.
CHAPTER 10
PUZZLE PIECES
“Thank you, Daniel. What you witnessed was much like I expected. Sir James and I are appreciative of your efforts,” Cecilia said when Daniel returned from his task.
