by Mary Brendan
‘Society’s loss if they refuse to receive Ellie,’ Temper said. ‘To punish for ever a girl who was virtually sold by her father... Well, that’s typical of our world, where gentlemen run everything! Which is why we need to elect women to Parliament!’ She gave her brother and Newell a challenging look.
Rather than recoiling, as she rather expected, Christopher laughed. ‘That’s what Lyndlington’s wife, Maggie, says. Since their daughter was born, she’s becoming quite the militant.’
‘Maybe I can join her efforts,’ Temper replied. ‘If you and the other Hellions in Parliament are so sincere about reforming society, you could start with the laws that make a married woman the virtual property of her husband.’
‘Maybe we should. But the only earth-shaking matter I wanted to address today was to find out what had been decided about you and Pru,’ Christopher replied. ‘So Aunt Gussie agreed that, in the wake of the scandal, presenting you in London this year wouldn’t be wise?’
‘Temperance might prefer that you not discuss this with me present,’ Newell cautioned, looking over at her. ‘It is a family matter.’
‘But you’re practically family,’ Temper replied and had to suppress again that strange sense of tension—as if some current arced in the air between them—when she met Gifford’s gaze. If she ignored it, surely it would go away.
‘I don’t mind discussing “The Great Matter” with you present,’ she continued, looking away from him. ‘Since you are outside the family, you might have a more disinterested perspective.’
‘The situation has improved a slight bit since last week,’ Gregory said. ‘It appears that Hallsworthy is going to recover after all, so Farnham should be able to return from the Continent.’
‘Stupid men,’ Temper muttered. ‘It would have been better if they’d both shot true and put a ball through each of their wooden heads. Honestly, in this day and age, duelling over Mama’s virtue! You’d think it was the era of powdered wigs and rouge! It’s not as if she’s ever spoken more than a few polite words to either of them.’
‘Having them both dead would hardly have reduced the scandal,’ Gregory observed.
‘Perhaps not, but the population of London would have been improved by the removal of two knuckleheads who’ve never done anything more useful in their lives than swill brandy, wager at cards and make fools of themselves over women!’
‘Such a dim view you hold of the masculine gender,’ Newell protested. ‘Come now, you must admit not all men are self-indulgent, expensive fribbles.’
Fairness compelled her to admit he was right. ‘Very well,’ she conceded, ‘I will allow that there still are a few men of honour and character in England, my brothers and you, Giff, included.’
‘My point exactly,’ he said, levelling those dangerous green eyes at her. ‘I could also point out a number of the fairer sex who aren’t exactly paragons of perfection.’
‘Like the society dragons who won’t accept Ellie? Yes, I’ll admit that, too. But you, Giff, have to admit that though the ladies and their acid tongues may control who moves in society, it’s women who are punished for any infraction of the rules, while men are...mostly exempt from them.’
‘We concede,’ Giff said. ‘Life isn’t fair.’
‘Shall we move from the philosophical to the practical?’ Gregory said briskly. ‘As you may know, Christopher, since a presentation in London this Season would be...awkward at best, Aunt Gussie offered to take the girls to Bath. Where at least they could go out a bit in society, maybe even meet some eligible gentlemen.’
‘I have no desire to wed some elderly widower and spend the rest of my husband’s life feeding him potions and pushing his chair to the Pump Room,’ Temper declared.
‘And as you might suspect,’ Gregory continued after Temper’s interruption, ‘practical Pru agreed, but intransigent Temper insists on remaining in London and brazening it out. Much as I love you, sis, I really would like to see you out of this house and settled in your own establishment.’
‘Since I don’t plan to marry, why must I even have a Season?’ When none of the gentlemen bothered to reply to that, she sighed. ‘Very well, but if I must have one, I’d rather have it straight away and not delay yet another year. Most females make their bows at sixteen and, what with one catastrophe or other occurring to forestall a presentation, Pru and I are pushing two-and-twenty, practically on the shelf! The Season will be a disaster, of course, but maybe after that, everyone will leave me alone and allow me to do what I wish.’
‘Are you sure you want to press forward this year?’ Gifford said. ‘If you are cut by most of society, you will have few invitations to balls or entertainments or dinners. Wouldn’t it be wiser to wait another year and try then, after this scandal has been buried under a host of new ones?’
‘What’s to say there won’t be a new scandal next year?’ Temper objected. ‘Paying court to Mama’s beauty is practically a...a rite of passage among the idiots coming down from university. Though she doesn’t go about in society nearly as much as she used to, she’s still as beautiful as ever. And as fascinating to gentlemen.’
‘Perhaps even more so, since she doesn’t encourage any of them,’ Gifford acknowledged with a wry smile. ‘The lure of the Beauty Unattainable.’
‘The lure of knowing she hasn’t always been “unattainable” and the arrogance that makes some man think he might be the one to succeed with her,’ Temper corrected.
‘Let’s get back to the point,’ Gregory said. ‘I’d just as soon not wait to settle your future until next year, either. But if you insist on having your debut here, we shall need some eminently respectable female to sponsor you, since Aunt Gussie will be in Bath with Pru. Obviously, Mama can’t do it.’
‘Ellie is out, too, for equally obvious reasons,’ Christopher said. ‘But...I could ask Maggie. As the daughter of a marquess and wife of a viscount, she might have enough influence to manage it.’
‘No, Christopher, I wouldn’t want to ask her, even though she would probably agree. She’s still fully occupied with the baby and, let’s be honest, attempting to sponsor one of the “Scandal Sisters” won’t enhance the social standing of whoever attempts it. Maggie is too important as a political hostess for Giles, helping him in his efforts to move the Reform bills forward, to risk diminishing her effectiveness, tarnishing her reputation by sponsoring me.’
‘But society knows how close we are all, almost as close as family. They will understand the loyalty that would have her stand by you.’
‘They might understand her loyalty, but they’d certainly question her judgement. No, if I press forward with this, I shall need a sponsor whose reputation is so unassailable that no one would dare oppose her.’
‘How about Lady Sayleford?’ Gifford suggested.
‘Maggie’s great-aunt?’ Temper said, frowning. ‘That connection is a bit remote, don’t you think? I don’t doubt that Maggie would take me on, but why should Lady Sayleford bother herself over the likes of me?’
‘Maybe because I ask her.’ Before Temper could sputter out a response, he grinned. ‘She’s my godmother. Didn’t you know? My mother and her daughter were bosom friends.’
While Christopher and Gregory laughed, Temper shook her head. ‘I didn’t know, but I’m not surprised. Thick as a den of thieves, the Upper Ten Thousand.’
‘You can’t deny she has the social standing to carry it off,’ Gifford said.
Temper smiled. ‘If Lady Sayleford couldn’t get her protégée admitted wherever she chose, London society as we know it would cease to exist. But even she would have to expend social capital to achieve it. I wouldn’t want to ask it of her.’
‘Knowing Lady Sayleford, she might see it as a challenge. She’s never marched to anyone’s tune, knows everything about everyone and has fingers in so many pies, no one dares to cross her.’
‘I’ve never m
et her, but she sounds like a woman I’d admire,’ Temper admitted.
‘If you could secure her agreement, Lady Sayleford would be an excellent sponsor,’ Gregory said, looking encouraged. ‘If anyone can find an eligible parti to take this beloved termagant off my hands, it’s the Dowager Countess.’
‘Need I repeat, I have no intention of ending a Season, even one sponsored by the redoubtable Lady Sayleford, by marrying?’
When the gentleman once again ignored her comment, Christopher agreeing with Gregory that Lady Sayleford would make an excellent sponsor and asking Gifford again if he thought he could coax her into it, Temper slammed her hand on the table.
‘Enough! Very well, I admit that Lady Sayleford has a better chance of foisting me on society than any other matron I can think of. But don’t go making your plans yet, gentlemen. Let me at least approach Papa and see if I can convince him to release funds from my dowry for me to set up my own establishment—and get out of your house and hair, dear brother.’
The men exchanged dubious glances.
‘If I can persuade him to release my dowry,’ Temper persisted, ‘you’ll have no “situation” to discuss.’
‘Yes, we would,’ Gifford said. ‘We’d be figuring out a way to rein you in before you organised an expedition to the Maghreb or India, like Lady Hester Stanhope.’
‘Riding camels or wading in the Ganges.’ With a beaming smile, Temper nodded. ‘I like that prospect far better than wading through the swamp of a Season.’
‘Well you might, but don’t get your hopes up,’ Christopher warned. ‘You know Papa.’
Despite her bold assertion, Temper knew as well as Christopher how dim were her chances of success. ‘I do,’ she acknowledged with a sigh. ‘I’ll be lucky if he even acknowledges I’ve entered the room, much less deigns to talk with me. At least he’s unlikely to bellow at me or throw things. With all the sabres and cutlasses and daggers he’s in the process of cataloguing now, that’s reassuring. Well, I’m off to pin him down and try my luck.’
‘If I leave before you get finished, let me know what happens,’ Christopher said. ‘I’ll be happy to return for another strategy session.’ Planting a kiss on her forehead, he gave her a little push. ‘You better go now, so you won’t miss saying goodbye to Pru.’
‘You’re right,’ Temper said, glancing at the mantel clock. ‘Aunt Gussie could arrive at any minute. Very well—I’m off to the lion’s den!’ Blowing the others a kiss, she walked out—feeling Gifford Newell’s gaze following her as almost like a burn on her shoulders.
Copyright © 2019 by Janet Justiss
ISBN-13: 9781488047145
Tempted by the Roguish Lord
Copyright © 2019 by Mary Brendan
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