“So, she isn’t dead, after all,” said one lady.
“I daresay she ran away from Teign,” said another. “Horrid man. Everyone knows he chases every attractive female that comes within his orbit. Perhaps he tried it with Lady Cornelius.”
From the Burlington Gardens’ end of the arcade came the principals of the second scene of their little play—Lord and Lady Francis, Lord and Lady Gerard, and Lord and Lady Hudson, all still dressed in the garments they had worn for Gerard’s and Amber’s wedding.
Allan had suggested that today’s newly-weds need not be part of the display, but the couple had insisted on joining what they called “the fun.”
The brothers had been locked up since Thomasina’s escape, so few realized who they were, until Cornelius saw them, and called out, “Well met, brothers and sisters.”
Cornelius introduced the newly arrived group to the people he had been talking with, and once again, the buzz of conversation spread along the arcade as everyone expressed an opinion about where these three Sheppard brothers hadbeen, when they had married, and what their appearance today presaged.
“It cannot have been long,” said a lady who was standing near Mel and Kemble. “I know Winifred and Parthena. Their families were still trying to puff them off only last week.
“What is happening now?” asked another of their group, as there was a stir further up the arcade, in the direction of Piccadilly Street. She poked her escort, who responded by craning his neck as if that would give him the extra height needed to peer over the sea of tall hats and bonnets.
Once again, the murmurs arrived before the center of the disturbance. “It is three more Sheppard brothers, with ladies on their arms. One is Lord Baldwin, and the lady he is escorting is certainlynothis betrothed.”
“Lord Baldwin is with Mrs. Wickham, and Lady Verity Querrendale is with Lord Donald. I don’t know who the lady is with Lord Ernest, but it is not the lady he is meant to be marrying next week.”
“Did I not see the brides shopping here today, with their mothers?”
Mel grinned. She had spoken to Ernest’s would-be mother-in-law herself, last night in the club. It was a bonus to hook all three mothers and their daughters with the same worm.
Perhaps news of the happenings in the hall reached into the recesses of the shops, for the crowd outside was growing, and among the new arrivals were the very ladies who most needed to hear the news of two of those weddings.
By some lucky chance, they were in the glover’s, just opposite where the couples had stopped to exchange greetings. Act Two of the play was about to begin.
Baldwin’s would-be mother-in-law glared at Clara on Baldwin’s arm, muttered to her daughter, and attempted tomarch past with her nose in the air, and the other two mothers would have followed her lead.
However, the brothers and their ladies hadn’t staged this display just to let these three go.
“Good day to you,” said Baldwin, pitching his voice to be heard. “Lady Baldwin, may I make known to you these ladies, particularly Lady Atkinson, whom I have mentioned to you? With her husband, she joined Teign in attempting to bully me into marrying her daughter.” He lifted his wife’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “Fortunately, dearest, bigamy is against the law, so you have made me safe.”
He sketched a mocking bow in the direction of the six ladies, all of whom stood gaping in his direction. “Please note, Lady Atkinson, I did not court your daughter. I did not propose. In fact, I did everything I safely could to discourage the marriage. I did not sign any agreement. If you object to my marrying someone else, I suggest you take it up with Teign.”
Lady Atkinson shut her mouth, gave a decisive nod, and said, “We shall see about that. We are going to tell Lord Atkinson about this.”
“Lord Ernest,” said another of the mothers. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“My brother has said it all, Lady Farringford-Smyth,” said Ernest. He then deviated from the script. “Teign kept us imprisoned by threatening injury to our brothers. We have escaped his clutches, and will no longer do his will.”
The hum of conversation became a thunder, and Mel could not hear what he said next, but he, like Baldwin, kissed his wife’s hand. It was probably what they agreed. “I have chosen my own bride. Lady Ernest has made me the happiest of men.”
The crowd had self-modulated, realizing that their own noise meant they were missing lines of dialogue, and Mel caught Ernest’s next comment, again unscripted. He bowed to thedaughter, saying, “I am sorry you have been inconvenienced, Miss Farringford-Smythe. The choices we brothers have made should not reflect badly on you or your friends. You were no more than a victim of Teign’s machinations. If you knew all, you would be thanking all the powers that be for your lucky escape.”
The third mother had been looking around, and had caught sight of Kemble. “Lord Kemble,” she trumpeted, and surged toward him, drawing her daughter in her wake. “Lord Kemble, I suppose you are going to tell me that you, too, have married.”
She looked Mel up and down with eyes that spat contempt. Had she the power, Mel felt, she would have burnt Mel to ashes where she stood.
“Mrs. Blackmore has not yet done me the honor of accepting a proposal from me, Lady Spurfold. That, however, is not the reason I am refusing to wed your daughter. I was being forced into marriage by threats to my youngest brother. He is now on his way overseas, and will no longer be under our father’s malignant guardianship by the time he returns to England.”
He inclined in a shallow bow. “Be grateful. Coercion is grounds for annulment, which would have been far more embarrassing for your daughter than having me repudiate the agreement you made with Teign.”
“Come along, Felicia,” said Lady Farringford-Smyth. “We shall see about this. Lord Baldwin, we and our husbands shall be calling on Lord Teign.”
The six of them, mothers and daughters, hurried off along the arcade, brushing off questions and comments from the bystanders.
“A flock of silly geese,” said Kemble, with no sympathy at all. “They thought Teign would be their golden egg, but they should not have treated us as if we were of no account. Time for Act Three of our little drama.”
