“Especially the scandalous ones.”
He grinned at that.
Ariana’s mother ordered fresh tea and stayed to serve it. Ariana stayed because Peake’s stories offered escape from more pressing matters and were keeping her headache at bay.
Except that anguished thoughts wouldn’t be controlled. What were Kynaston and Norris planning? She didn’t entirely trust the good sense of either, but was glad Kynaston was involved. He was older and would surely restrain her brother from rash violence and even murder. Odd to think of Kynaston as a rock of stability.
“Ariana will take me to visit your house, sir.”
Her name startled Ariana into paying attention.
Lady Cawle continued, “I will see your cellars for myself.”
But Peake said, “That’ll never do, ma’am. Your skirts’ll never fit unless you trim your sails.”
“Impudent man!” Lady Cawle snapped.
Ariana wondered if she’d demand structural alterations, but she rose and took her leave. Mr. Peake offered Lady Cawle a polite good-bye, and left with Ariana.
“An odd lady,” Peake said as soon as they were out in the corridor.
“A very powerful one,” Ariana told him.
“She won’t knock any chips off me, Lady Ariana, but I’m sorry if I’ve made your situation more difficult.”
“I don’t think so. She’s not petty. Again, I apologize for your involvement.”
“I, too, must be on my way, but be sure I’ll do all I can to scotch this. It’s a few lines in a gutter rag, lass. It’ll be forgotten by tomorrow.”
As he left, Ariana hoped he was an infallible prophet.
“Your appearance at the opera will clear this away,”Lady Langton said as she appeared at Ariana’s side. “I’ve decided we should not leave Town. We should brave this out after all.”
“You needed to speak to me, Mama?” Ariana’s head was aching more and more.
Her mother knew the symptoms. “Oh, my poor dear. Not at all. I’d only go over and over it all to no purpose. Go and lie down.”
Ariana gratefully obeyed. In her room she lay on a chaise while Ethel massaged her temples, using a lavender-and-rosemary cream that generally helped. Ariana had been prone to these headaches all her life in times of stress. She’d not suffered from one for years until Princess Charlotte’s death, and then seeing a course of action had driven them away. Now this. She hadn’t felt so helpless since that season so many years ago.
The aroma and gentle touch soothed and she drifted off to sleep. When she awoke, tucked under the coverlet, the headache was gone, though as always she felt somewhat fragile.
Ethel was sitting nearby, reading. “Better?” she asked.
“Much. Thank you.”
“Hungry? It’s nearly one o’clock.”
Ariana gingerly sat up. She couldn’t face solid food.
“Soup,” Ethel said. “I’ll get it for you.”
Once Ethel had left, Ariana carefully stood and washed her face with the cold water in the bowl. Feeling better, she went to look out at the day. The rain had stopped, but passersby were well wrapped up, so it must have been cold. It would be brisk and fresh, however, and she might like a walk after she’d eaten. But then, could she face the world?
Ethel returned with a tray holding soup for both ofthem, bread and butter, and all the necessities for tea. It was a large and heavy tray, but she made nothing of it. Soon they were sitting at the small table, enjoying chicken soup.
“So,” Ethel said, sipping her second cup of tea, “what happened when you went after Lord Kynaston? Them belowstairs say your brother was breathing fire.”
“Norris was in a state, but I think Kynaston will have talked sense into him. The oddest thing. He—I mean Kynaston—discovered that it was Lord Inching who sent the information to the newspaper!”
