Chapter Five
“Eldridge,LordEldridge…” murmured Sir Rodney from the depths of his overstuffed chair. “Seems to ring a bell somewhere.”
“Yes, I recall hearing that name.” Lady Jocelyn frowned. “Quite a while ago, though. And only in passing. Damned if I can even recall the conversation.”
“Wait,” Reid’s father held up one finger. “If my memory serves me, I believe he was with the foreign office after that nastiness in Paris. Served under Grenville, I think. He must be quite ancient by now.”
“Not local, then?” inquired Reid.
“Not that I know of.” His mother shook her head. “And I’ve lived here for many years, as has your father. I don’t believe there was ever an Eldridge connection in this area. Certainly not aLordEldridge. Mary Southwick would be constantly mentioning him if there were.” She gave him a wicked grin.
“Where’d you hear the name, son?”
“A passing conversation this afternoon, Father. Someone who used to live near here mentioned his name.”
“Oh?” His mother looked curious. “Who was that, then? Perhaps I’d know them and be able to make the connection.”
Reid shook his head, keeping his expression as bland as he could. “Just a chance encounter. Not a lot of people riding in this weather, so stopping for a brief chat with anyone out and about is to be expected.”
There, that should do it.
But in case it didn’t… ”Now what are we to do about the Mistletoe Ball? We’re all in agreement that marriage to that pea-brained…er…Emmeline Southwick is out of the question?”
His mother sighed as his father shrugged. “Never did think much of that match, to be honest. But you were dead set on it, Jocelyn.”
For once, his mother didn’t take offense at the accusation. “I know, dear. I think I was deliberately overlooking her faults in favor of her attributes. But today I realized there were too many of the former and too few of the latter. And I love my son too much to condemn him to a life with either of ‘em.”
Puzzling his way through his wife’s thought processes was tiring, so Sir Rodney just nodded. “Indeed.”
“Will there be a fuss if I don’t announce a Marchioness?”
Lady Jocelyn gave him one of her best sarcastic glares. “Was the Battle of Hastings a fuss?”
He sighed. “Point taken.”
“So what are our options, then, Joss?” Sir Rodney crossed his legs, resting one ankle on the other knee. “Maybe we could use Whiskey as a proxy until Reid finds the real thing.”
His wife was not amused.
“I’m sorry, Mama.” Reid spoke the truth. “I understand that the Mistletoe Ball is a tradition that stretches back over two centuries, and God knows I don’t want to be the one to break it. But I cannot marry Emmeline to preserve that tradition. I cannot andwill notmake that sacrifice.”
“I know dear.” She leaned over and patted his hand. “Let me think about it. We still have a fortnight, which gives me chance to consider alternatives. I’ll talk to the ladies in the village and see if they have any bright ideas.”
“No village girls, mind.” Reid gazed soberly at his mother. “You’re the one who told me I couldn’t wed a milkmaid.”
“Good God, did you want to?” Sir Rodney blinked at him.
“No, sir.”
“Good thing too.” His father huffed. “Don’t mind new blood, but we do have the ale to think about.”
Since that was anon-sequiturthat made no sense to either Reid or his mother, they let the comment pass unanswered.
Silence fell and after a little while, Reid stood. “Well, I’m going up. If either of you have an idea, I’d be willing to hear it. And I’ll do my best to think of a solution as well.”
“Thank you dear. That would be wonderful.” His mother gave him a wistful smile. “Perhaps the morning will bring some fresh suggestions.”
“I do hope so.”
