He turned to Ryder and Graham. “Donner Oxbridge, this is my son Graham and his guardian, Mr. Ryder Sherbrooke.”
Donner cocked his head to one side and said in an admiring voice, “I knew you were arriving this evening, sir, and I wondered why. I was eager to meet you, for you are famous, anyone who is anyone knows your name. You are a man who has more illegitimate children than is proper by any measure and you managed to convince your wife to live next to them as you continue to procreate more, year in and year out, without pause. It is quite astounding, sir. A pleasure,” and Donner Oxbridge hastened to shake Ryder’s hand.
Ryder smiled at the pleasant-faced man. “I have not heard that particular explanation of all my children in a very long time. At my age, I will take it as an accolade and bask in my immense virility.”
“Sir, you mock me. It is a serious matter, producing child after child with such ease and facility when many men, through no fault of their own, are unable—” He stopped, grinned.
Vereker said, “That was well done, Donner.” He added with a smile to Ryder, “Donner is our resident jokester. Blakeney, I see you rubbing your hands together. Fetch my finestchampagne for the dinner table for our celebration. Graham, give your sister into Donner’s care.”
Donner grabbed a fast-recovering Eugenie from Graham, stumbled, then straightened. “Looking at you closely, I see your eyes are those of Lady Madeline’s. I have admired her portrait. You have finally come home. Welcome.” And Donner extended a hand, nearly dropping Eugenie. “She is an armful, and isn’t that wonderful?”
“It is indeed,” said Vereker.
He gave Graham a bow. “My lord, I am pleased to have a brother-in-law, equally eager to know what happened to you all those years ago. Don’t worry about your sister. When she is startled or taken off guard, down she goes. Ah, my love, I see you’re recovering so I will plant your lovely feet on the floor, all right? I’m holding you steady. Can you stand?”
Eugenie nodded, stood tall. She drew a deep, steadying breath, shook out her skirts. She looked from her father back to her brother and back again. “Very well, you are Graham. Your eyes are indeed our mother’s eyes—there has never been a blue color so vivid, so startling, all remarked upon it when you were born. So, it appears I am no longer an only child.” And she laughed. “Dinner awaits. We mustn’t be late or Mrs. Sample will punish us with dried scrambled eggs for breakfast. Come.” She took Donner’s arm and marched out of the library.
Graham smiled at the slender man in his formal evening finery, his brother-in-law, gave him a bow, and marveled he’d been able to hold his wife in his arms. He was fine-looking, his face narrow, a full mouth of teeth. His hair was so blond it was nearly white. He supposed he was in his early thirties. He looked a bit bemused. Well, who wouldn’t be at the unexpected return of the prodigal son who had no memory of anything at all?”
“We are having champagne to celebrate Graham’s return?”
“Yes, indeed, Donner. This is the best day of my life.”
Donner said without hesitation, “I would have thought Eugenie accepting my marriage proposal would be the best day.”
Vereker laughed, clapped his hands he was so excited, shouted. “Blakeney, alert the household, Viscount Whitestone is home!”
CHAPTER 27
Royal Crescent
Bath
Cam knew her aunt expected her to be perfectly presented. She was, after all, Lady Camilla Rohman, daughter of the Earl of Whitsonby, sufficiently toothsome and splendidly dowered, and thus it was her responsibility to be admired by all, including the gaggle of watchful older ladies who perennially lined the perimeter of the room eager to condemn whenever possible.
Cam could always count on Cilly to see she had as perfect a presentation as possible. She stood back when Cilly had coaxed the last curl into place, looking at Cam in the mirror. “Well now, aren’t you ever a toothsome sight. You look like a princess, thanks in large part to my genius.”
Princess of what country or city or neighborhood? Well, Cam did look better than she had an hour before. “Thank you, Cilly. You’ve done marvels.”
“Well, of course.” Cilly bent close. “There’s this one dratted curl, why won’t it lay still like its sisters?”
Cam didn’t think the curl looked any different from its well-behaved sisters, but she kept her mouth shut and Cilly tugged and combed until she was satisfied. Cam rose and looked at herself in the long Cheval mirror. Her gown was pale blue silk satin with the requisite tight downward arrowed waist, her shoulders were bare except for her mother’s lovely sapphire necklace, the sleeves little tight puffs. She quite liked the lovely fitted narrow pleats from neckline to the waist. She wore only two petticoats beneath the shimmering skirts. The toes of her matching blue slippers showed when she walked.
She might not look like a queen in wedding white, but she looked well enough for Aunt Deveraux’s approval.
Cilly said in a pronouncement reminiscent of a voice from On High, “Lady Deveraux will applaud my efforts as well as your fine looks.” She twitched the same soft curl over Cam’s left ear, frowned, sighed. She handed Cam a matching shawl, gave her a light kiss on her cheek and smiled. “You will make all the old bats sigh and remember when they were young and ever so proud of their looks. Of course they will compliment you on your looks and secretly hate your lovely guts.”
Aunt Deveraux always enjoyed jaunts to the Assembly Rooms, where she could flirt endlessly with any and every gentleman over fifty, and win at whist. She was ready, now tapping her foot. She wore her favored yellow, her white hair piled high on her head. She wore diamonds, a lot of diamonds, wherever there was uncovered space. She carried her evening hearing trumpet carved of fine antler horn, which didn’t much help with her hearing, but it was splendid to look at. Cam had always admired it, knew she could use it as well for a weapon.
Finch gently draped a lovely shawl over her bony shoulders when they heard Pilcher Gayson’s arrival in his father’s ancient carriage, black and ponderous but very comfortable.He complimented Cam, but was fulsome in his praise of Lady Deveraux.
Cam bore up well when Pilcher kissed her gloved hand. Like her, he wore white gloves, so she didn’t know if he still chewed his fingernails. She had to admit he looked handsome in his evening garb. He was smart enough to treat her aunt like the queen. Before he was allowed to lay Cam’s lovely cashmere shawl around her shoulders, he looked at her and slavered. It wasn’t a good look for him. Did Alex ever slaver? Then again, Cam didn’t think she’d mind his slavering as much as he wanted.
After he laid the shawl around her shoulders, Cam thanked him even though his fingers caressed her arm. She knew she had to be on her best behavior so she couldn’t very well break his fingers or smack him, not in front of her aunt. He was taller and better formed than Teddy Jewel, but she didn’t doubt she could give him a black eye.
When they walked into the Assembly Rooms, Cam looked around, smiled. She’d admired the long grand high ceilings since she was a child, marveled at the splendid chandeliers. It was painted a lovely pale blue above the wooden surrounds, the ceiling a sparkling white, just as they’d been for half a century. Musicians sat on a small dais at the far end, their instruments at the ready. The room was airy, not too warm even in high summer.
She knew all the unspoken rules and regulations, namely, all those with either mounds of money or a lovely long pedigree, preferably both, were welcome. Others could attend but they were ignored by their betters. Still, she’d always thought even if she was a miller’s daughter, she’d be dancing to the same music, enjoying the lovely tea.
