Ward Marching.â
Snowden set his nephew down and took the card Rebecca handed him. âHmmnn,â he said dubiously. âDonât know about this.â He gave the card to Fortescue. âWhat dâyou think, Forty?â
His lordship scrutinized the invitation critically. âNot too bad. A touch plain, perhaps. Ward never was much of a one for frills, andââ
âNot the card! â Snowden exploded. âThe message, you slowtop! Is it proper for my sister Parrish to jaunter off to Bedfordshire with Ward?â
âOh,â said his lordship, grinning. âWellâwhy not? You will be going as well, soââ
Boothe threw him an irked scowl. âNo, I shall not! No more shall you!â
âWhat? But I am invited, andââ His lordship encountered the full force of Bootheâs meaningful grimace, and his indignant protest faltered to a halt. He said lamely, âForgot. Sorry. No, we cannot go, of course.â
âDo you say I cannot either?â wailed Rebecca, who had waited out this odd discussion with much anxiety.
Snowden looked from her dismayed countenance to his friend. âWell, youâre the expert in all things having to do with dress and manners. What dâyou say?â
His lordship reread the invitation painfully. Watching him, Anthonyâs face was one big grin. He opened his mouth to comment, caught his motherâs eye, assumed the mien of a martyred saint, and was silent.
âDonât see why she should not go,â Fortescue opined at length. âNot a green girl, after all. Yâr pardon, maâam, but âtis truth. Says here a small party go. Wardâs a perfect gentleman. Besides, aunt will be with her. What?â
Snowden pursed his lips. âTrouble is, Ward cries friends with de Villars, and if heâs to goâ¦â
Rebecca said innocently, âBut I thought you said you had misjudged Mr. de Villars, Snow?â
âMight have,â he admitted with a brooding look. âBut itâs one thing for me to enjoy his company, and quite another for you to be seen with him!â
âShouldnât worry about de Villars,â offered his lordship. âGone into the hinterlands to see his great-uncle Boudreaux.â Evidently fearing this information would be suspect, he tapped the end of his snub nose and added owlishly, âTold me so. Personally. Didnât ask him, mind. Not polite. We was talking of something else at the time. I collect he thought I might like to know it.â
Staring at him, Boothe asked, âWhy?â
His lordship, misunderstanding the question, considered it, and shrugged. âProbably heâs going to try and turn the old fella up sweet. Always going down there. Except,â he appended with shrewd perspicacity, âwhen Boudreaux is here in Town. Then he goes to Grosvenor Square, instead.â
âGood gracious,â Mrs. Boothe fluttered. âIâd no idea Lord Boudreaux was related to de Villars.â
âHead of his house.â Fortescue took out his snuff box and tapped it meditatively. âOld boyâs a bit of a martinet. Disappointed in de Villars. Cut him off without a penny when he run off with poor little Miss Rogers in â30âor was it â32? Lord, what a bumble broth that was!â
âYes, indeed,â agreed Mrs. Boothe. âA very dreadful scandal. Poor girl. But she married Dutton the following summer, as I recall. I remember wondering at the time whatever could have induced a clever boy like Trevelyan de Villars to ruin himself by compromising a widgeon like Constance Rogers.â
âShe was a lovely widgeon, probably,â said Rebecca dryly. âShe must have been, if she achieved an eligible connection within a year of her disgrace.â
âI still do not see, Forty,â Snowden persisted single-mindedly, âwhy de Villars should think you interested in the fact he visits
Robert Swartwood
Frank Tuttle
Kristin Vayden
Nick Oldham
Devin Carter
Ed Gorman
Margaret Daley
Vivian Arend
Kim Newman
Janet Dailey