by Joan Smith
"You arranged to have them follow you and Stella?"
"I'd never have found you, if she hadn't taken me to you. It was only desperation that pushed me to offer her the diamond. Greed is a terrible thing. It blinds folks to reason."
"Love is as bad. Poor Beaudel—what a monkey she made of him."
"At his age too. He ought to know better. It is excusable in young whippersnappers like ourselves. I hope you aren't rehearsing to renounce me on the grounds that love is bad for the use of reason,” he said, as he grabbed me into his arms, raking my cheek with his beard.
"I wouldn't dream of it, Bertie. I have much better grounds for renouncing you. Lying, impersonating an officer—” He covered my lips with his and kissed me, tickling my chin with his beard, so that I laughed and spoiled it. “Getting my father tossed into jail, and me..."
"And you a very eligible husband. Don't forget that in your list of crimes! Dutch let it slip how desperate he is to find you a presentable parti."
After a heavy frown, he kissed me again, more forcefully, so that I forgot the beard, and all the wretched consequences of his interference in our lives. It had been worth it after all.
* * * *
The early part of the morning Bertie and Beaudel spent at the courts, signing complaints and testimony against the infamous Stella and Wiggins. By eleven, my father was at last out of jail, and before noon, he came to Glanbury Park with the other men, for his final view of the Jaipur. He was wreathed in smiles, and delighted to be rid of me. He was also full of potential customers for the Jaipur.
"I'll tell you who would pay top pound for it—the old Dowager Duchess of Devontree. She covets unique gems of this sort. I usually get a five-percent commission for arranging mutually satisfactory bargains of this sort,” he added.
"No, no, we are in no hurry to sell,” Bertie told him, while Beaudel hemmed and hawed, afraid to open his mouth, for fear of displeasing someone.
It was several weeks before the matter was finalized. With such reluctance to sell, it was necessary for the Dowager to go as high as 65,000 guineas, and Papa as low as two percent on his fee. It was sufficient to give his daughter a decent wedding, as she modestly declined any dowry. What Bertie calls his “chicken stake,” and the rest of us call his fortune, is more than sufficient to keep us in style in London. Neither of us has any desire to remove to the country, which displeases Sacheverel nearly as much as the sale of the Jaipur. He will be even more displeased to hear his son is turning tea merchant, so we will be at pains to see he does not hear it.
I like my husband much better without his whiskers, and decline every offer on his part to grow them again. They remind me too sharply of my ordeal at Glanbury Park. Sir Algernon is installed there now, taking care of Lucien, and chasing after all the local girls. He bought back all of Lucien's collection that Bertie purchased, thank goodness. Lucien, who writes to me occasionally, suspects Miss Little has set her cap at Algernon, and is giving her every assistance in her quest. She could not have a better go-between, in my opinion. Lord Sheldon urges the suit on his nephew. He claims he is very satisfied that the governesses from Glanbury Park make excellent wives.
* * *
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