Page 30 of An Enchantress for an Earl

Chapter Eleven

“It all goes back to Lady Hartshorn. Every possible person who had heard anything, heard it from someone who heard it from her.”

Lady Gillieston made this declaration with evident satisfaction, then paused to sip her tea, waiting for those around her to obediently ask for more information.

Violet glanced sidelong at Iris, and was met with an expression as amused as her own. Lady Gillieston did rather like making a performance out of things. Had it been a respectable thing to do, Violet was sure that she would have done well on the stage. On the other couch, their mother assumed her best polite smile, and asked the question.

“And where do you believe that Lady Hartshorn heard it from?”

Lady Fotheringhampton took up the tale, setting her teacup down, and lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone, much to Violet’s increased amusement.

“Well, my dear Duchess, that is where the mystery lies! She declares that she cannot remember, precisely, for she overheard two gentlemen speaking of the matter, but that, at the time, there were on the other side of a veritable wall of potted palms in Lady Dartwood’s ballroom. She did not see the gentlemen, and cannot be certain, from the voices alone, of their identity. Personally, I suspect that she cannot be sure because, at the time, she had perhaps indulged in an overabundance of Lady Dartwood’s port wine punch, which has something of a reputation for potency.”

Lady Gillieston tittered at her friend’s comment, nodding, then took up the story.

“Indeed. And it is most vexing that she can’t provide further information. However, I have come to believe that perhaps, due to the potency of the punch, she may not have heard any of it very well. To the extent that it is most likely that she heard the lady’s name incorrectly.”

The Duchess sipped her tea, and when it became obvious that the ladies were waiting for her to prompt them, she set her cup down, and did so. Violet was, for the thousandth time, impressed by her mother’s patience.

“But… if Lady Hartshorn heard it incorrectly…?”

“Then there is nothing to cast any shadow of scandal upon my dear niece. Which is only what I expected. The only time I can remember that Petrina has done anything at all even slightly less than perfectly appropriate was last year, when she had that unfortunate argument with Miss Felton, about the precise name for the shade of orange she was wearing. That was, to my memory, a truly dreadful gown, but Petrina’s main complaint was that Miss Felton had called it the wrong colour. The girl can become rather… obsessive… about some things.”

Lady Fotheringhampton nodded at her friend’s comment, and spoke to confirm it.

“She can. But then, my dear, you must admit that it seems to be a family trait. Westerhazy is not so much so, but his father…. He had a reputation for arguing about the oddest things. And Merryfield – well, look where that behaviour has left him!”

Lady Gillieston frowned, obviously displeased at the seemingly negative view of her relatives. She gave a sniff of disapproval, and pointedly turned back to the Duchess.

“Well, that’s neither here nor there in this matter, is it? I do wish that Lady Hartshorn was not so willing to repeat anything she hears, without at least trying to validate it first!”

At that comment, Violet nearly choked on her lemon cake, for coming from one of the ton’s biggest gossips, it was a rather outrageous remark. The Duchess managed to respond, although Violet suspected that her mother was also repressing laughter.

“Yes, it would be preferable. But, if you believe that the conversation which Lady Hartshorn overheard was not about Lady Petrina at all, then who do you think those gentlemen were discussing?”

“I have considered that in some detail, quite exhausting myself with dredging through every memory, and have concluded that they can only have been speaking of Lady Petunia Peterwood. The name is similar enough that Lady Hartshorn might have easily misheard it, and there was a small scandal about Lady Petunia, not so long ago – a barely prevented kiss on a darkened terrace, if I remember rightly. At the time, a number of men speculated on what they might… achieve… with the Lady.”

The Duchess frowned, with a quick glance at her daughters, who affected the most innocent expressions they could manage, as if they had no understanding whatsoever of what Lady Gillieston had just implied.

“Some men are certainly not gentlemen. So… if that is the case, what is your plan, to clear this besmirching of Lady Petrina’s name? I assume that you do have a plan, my dear lady?”

Lady Gillieston preened, presenting a self-congratulatory smile.

“Of course I have a plan! I have already begun to put it into action. I have been speaking to whoever will listen – confidentially, of course – and hinting about the misheard name, without quite directly mentioning Lady Petunia. But they all know who I mean. The word will go around quickly, I am certain, that Lady Petrina has been falsely accused, and that there are far tastier pieces of gossip to be had, by watching other young ladies. Soon, everyone will forget about Petrina’s supposed scandal, and go back to remembering her as being overly particular about the colours of gowns, and nothing more.”

“I am glad to hear it. Thank you for calling to let me know. I must admit, the whole matter had intrigued me, for I have found Lady Petrina to be unexceptionable in every way.”

“As she is. My niece is a perfect model of propriety. But we must be on our way – we have many other calls to make today, to ensure that the word on the truth of this matter spreads through as many parlours as possible. Thank you so much for the tea, and for the lemon cakes – I do so have a weakness for your cook’s lemon cakes. It is cruel of you to refuse to share that recipe.”

Lady Gillieston sighed, eyeing the last few cakes on the plate as if she might scoop them up and carry them off to fortify her on her calls, then gave the tiniest shake of her head, and rose to depart.

The Duchess simply smiled, and rose as well, to see the ladies out. As they left the room, Iris turned to Violet.

“Do you believe what they said? That Lady Petrina is as perfect as they claim?”

“Iris, what are you suggesting?”

“Well, when I met Lady Petrina, she seemed suitably behaved, by all appearances. But… she had rather a twinkle in her eye, and a sense of humour. Which makes me wonder what secrets she really hides. After all, we both look respectable, but there are things about us that would shock the gossips if they became known – although not so scandalous as kisses on the terrace…”