Miss Beaumont had divulged that as the sponsor of her debut into Society, the Earl of Ravenstone had leased a large house in a very prestigious address directly in the centre of Bath, and as soon as they were cosily installed, the ladies were to see to Patience’s wardrobe.
According to Felicity, deciding on a debutante’s wardrobe would ordinarily take place in London, and as the Season was already well under way, on the face of it, there appeared no time to lose.
However, given the events at Hope’s wedding eighteen months earlier, it was deemed pertinent for her come out to startafterthe annual debutante presentation to Queen Charlotte in April. Indeed, even Patience came out in a cold sweat at the thought of being the reason the Shacklefords once again came to their monarch’s attention.
Especially as Patience very much feared she would have to resort to being inexcusably rude when refusing any suitor that offered for her. Truthfully, she hadn’t believed the whole fiasco would actually get this far, and while she wouldn’t set out to throw a rub in the way of her sisters’ plans bydeliberatelyembarrassing her family in the eyes of theton, she very much feared that tying her garter in public would not be a conscious decision on her part, even without the added humiliation of being presented to a Queen she’d last seen teetering over a duck pond.
∞∞∞
‘I hear Bath is very agreeable this time of the year,’ Reverend Shackleford commented meaningfully, causing Grace’s stomach to do a slow roll.
Patience barely heard her father’s remark as she was staring bemusedly at the rows of cutlery lined up on either side of her plate. She couldn’t help but wonder how on earth she’d managed with a simple spoon for the majority of her life.
‘Indeed,’ Felicity Beaumont responded, entirely oblivious to the Duchess’s sudden anxiety over her father’s seemingly innocuous comment. ‘Have you ever visited, Reverend? Taken the waters perchance?’
‘Indeed, I have not,’ responded Augustus Shackleford jovially, ‘and neither has Mrs Shackleford to my knowledge.’
There was a deafening silence as the Reverend stared expectantly at his daughter and son-in-law.
‘Mayhap you will one day get the opportunity to visit,’ faltered Felicity, belatedly realising her faux pas.
The silence returned until Nicholas finally put down his napkin. ‘Am I to understand you’re angling for an invitation Augustus?’ he asked drily with absolutely no consideration to the required etiquette.
‘That would be splendid,’ responded Reverend Shackleford without even the slightest hesitation.
Patience felt the first stirrings of hope as she stared over at her father’s beaming face.
‘Father, you do realise we are lodging in Bath to facilitate Patience’s come out? We will be extremely busy, and there will be little amusement. You will therefore need to entertain yourself for most of the time.’
Patience only narrowly resisted a rude snort. If Grace had hoped her words might discourage their father, she’d entirely miscalculated. If there was anything guaranteed to ensure Augustus Shackleford followed a course of action, it was knowing his offspring didn’t want him to.
At this point, the refined luncheon clearly went down the privy as a lively debate ensued on exactly why it would be a terrible idea for the Reverend, not to mention Agnes and Percy, to accompany them to Bath.
Patience, deep in thought, listened to none of it.
This development might solve all her problems. The one person she could rely on to exhibit worse behaviour than herself was her father. If she managed to keep her mouth shut, she need not concern herself about embarrassing her sisters into withdrawing their sponsorship.
Her father would do it for her.
‘But what about the twins and Pru and Anthony? And FREDDY?’ protested Grace finally, having exhausted every other excuse she could think of.
The Reverend frowned, his face a picture of bewilderment. ‘Why they’ll come with us, of course. You are renting a house, I take it, Nicholas?’
‘Not I,’ the Duke grinned, ‘the honour of sponsoring Patience’s come out rests with Adam. Of course, I’m certain he’ll be beyond delighted to see you all…’
Chapter Three
Max stared down at the letter in his hand, his feelings a stomach-churning mixture of anger, fear, frustration and over it all, overwhelming sadness.
His idiot of a brother was dead. At aged nine and twenty. According to the missive, the fool had broken his neck indulging in a ridiculous horse race along Pall Mall. Throwing the paper down on the table, Max abruptly stood and went over to pour himself a brandy, consuming the burning liquid in one swallow. Forcing down his unexpected sorrow, Max closed his eyes and wondered what the devil he was going to do now.
Despite numerous attempts to track down Hugo and force him to confess who he’d peddledSepidehto, Max was not much closer to discovering who had secretly purchased the priceless gem. The only thing he’d achieved was a list of those he believed both wealthy and egotistical enough to have coveted the diamond, but he could not accuse anyone without proof. In truth, given that the five men on his list were all influential members of Prinny’s set, he couldn’t make a public accusation unless he wanted to ruin his own life in the process.
He picked up the letter again. As Hugo’s only living relative, Max had been asked to come up to London to identify the body. Once that unpleasant task had been completed, the remains would be released into the Marquess’s care. Max screwed up the letter and tossed it furiously into a corner. There was nothing for it, he would have to go. Pulling on the bell rope, he waited impatiently for the arrival of his butler. As soon as the door opened, he brusquely informed Greaves of his brother’s sad demise and requested his carriage be brought round within the hour. Unexpectedly, the elderly butler’s look of shocked sorrow brought on a sudden threat of tears. God’s teeth, he hadn’t cried since his parents had died. Ruthlessly forcing down the lump in his throat, Max went on to advise Greaves that his valet should pack enough for a week.
‘Will Lord Hugo be buried in the family vault?’ Greaves enquired. Max blinked. In truth, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. ‘Naturally,’ he answered shortly, his tone clearly indicating the conversation was at an end. Taking the cue, the butler bowed and withdrew.
An hour and a half later, Max was on his way to London. His intention was to do the journey in a single day which meant he would not arrive in Town until late in the evening. To ensure the staff at his Belgravia townhouse were expecting him, he’d already dispatched one of the grooms on horseback with instructions. Leaning back against the sumptuous upholstery, Max closed his eyes and attempted to sleep. He was well aware that once he arrived in London, there would be no time to rest. His brother’s so-called friends would be clamouring at the door to offer their condolences. Indeed, not only Hugo’s acquaintances but most of theton. All offering their false sympathies whilst speculating whether there was some scandal to be unearthed. Max gritted his teeth. If only they knew.
