Page 2 of A Winter Scandal

Thea chuckled. “I have no doubt. Were they talking of the carriage full of women of doubtful character who drove over from Cheltenham? Or the wagonload of brandy and ale coming by night in a very suspicious manner?”

“Smuggling in liquor to his cellars? I doubt that would raise many eyebrows around Chesley,” Damaris retorted. “Though the amount he brought in might. No, Mrs. Dinmont was regaling Mrs. Cliffe the younger with stories of shooting contests that involved picking out the candles of the chandelier. Mrs. Cliffe countered that the man has no maids in the house because no self-respecting female will work there. Of course, they both agreed that they are nevertheless waiting with bated breath to meet the legendary lord.”

“Mm. Everyone seems to be.” Thea refused to think about her own dancing nerves. “I am sure his fortune and the fact that he is a bachelor will overcome any objections anyone may have to his moral character.”

“I believe his face plays a role, as well. Everyone agrees he is as handsome as Lucifer before the fall.”

“Yes. I suppose.” Thea could feel heat rising in her face, and she looked down at her glove, rebuttoning the little round button through its loop.

“Have you ever seen him?” Damaris went on. “I have not.”

Thea shrugged as she turned her gaze out on the crowd. “His friend Lord Wofford is my second cousin, though I scarcely know Cousin Ian more than to say hello.”

Damaris looked at Thea thoughtfully, but if she found it odd that her friend had not really answered her question, she did not say so. “Well, I shall be interested to see him, I admit, but I am growing rather weary of hearing about our local lord. Let us turn to a more interesting topic. You will be pleased to know that I received a shipment of books this week. You shall have to come round and look at them.”

“Really? How delightful.”

“They included Cantos I and II of Lord Byron’s Don Juan.” When Thea did not respond, her friend glanced at her, surprised. “Thea?”

“What? Oh, I am sorry.” Thea blushed. “I am afraid my mind wandered.”

“Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I am just a bit distracted tonight. I am sorry. I fear you said something that I was not attending to—something about the books you received?”

“Yes. I got in Lord Byron’s new poem.”

“Did you?” Thea’s eyes widened appreciatively. She understood now why Damaris had been so startled by her lack of response to the news. Thea was an avid reader, and until Damaris arrived, no one else in Chesley shared her love of books except her brother, Daniel—and his tastes ran more to the scholarly. Books of history or even the philosophical and religious texts her father had enjoyed were all very well, of course, and Thea read whatever her father or brother ordered from London. But she also had a love of poetry and novels and satire, which were all too scarce in the study at home. When Thea first met Damaris, and their conversation had turned to books, Thea knew she had found a friend. “Is Don Juan terribly shocking? It is supposed to be, but I confess, I cannot wait to read it.”

Damaris laughed, and Thea joined in, though afterward she said, “I would not tell anyone but you that. I fear I am not a very good example to Daniel’s flock.”

“Well, they are his parishioners, after all, not yours.”

“I know. But I do have a certain duty.” Thea let out an unconscious sigh.

“I promise I shall not tell anyone that you are borrowing it.”

“Have you read it yet?”

“My dear, the very evening I got it! Though I shall go back for a longer perusal, of course. But it is wonderful. You will not be disappointed, I assure you.”

“I am sure that I will not. It is very kind of you to lend it to me.” Thea glanced toward the front of the hall, where the Squire and his wife were still receiving guests. She noted that she was not the only guest who kept turning to look at the entrance. Everyone, it seemed, was awaiting Mrs. Cliffe’s “very special guest.”

“If Lord Morecombe does not attend, it will spell disaster for Mrs. Cliffe’s party,” Damaris said, following Thea’s gaze.

“It is foolish in the extreme, of course, to put so much interest in the appearance of one person,” Thea said, feeling a bit guilty at being caught looking. Resolutely she turned so that her back was toward the door.

“No doubt it is, but still, ’tis difficult not to be caught up in it.”

Thea glanced around and let out a little sigh as her eyes fell on the row of people seated against the wall. “I had better pay my respects to the Squire’s mother. Would you like to come?”

Damaris chuckled. “Thank you, but I have already done my duty there this evening. I am afraid you must face the gorgon on your own.”

Thea had to smile at the comparison. The old woman, who was wrapped in a shawl and grimly studying the occupants of the room, often made one feel as if she could turn one to stone. “If you think the experience is treacherous for you, think of those of us whose every childhood misstep is known to her!”

Thea bade good-bye to her friend and made her way toward the rear of the room to make her curtsy to the elder Mrs. Cliffe.

“It’s good to see you, ma’am.” The polite lie slid off Thea’s tongue with the ease of long practice. “I hope you are well this evening.”