Chapter Twenty-Three
“How’s his Grace today?”
It was the first question out of Lydia’s mouth as she gave Ivy a quick hug in the front hall of Sydenham House. They’d arrived at almost the same time for the Wednesday Club, and Ivy’s nerves calmed considerably at the sound of her friend’s voice. “We are all quite concerned,” she said clearly, knowing there were ears everywhere at an occasion like this. “Dear Prudence is with him at the moment.”
Then, leaning toward Lydia under the pretext of helping her with her shawl, she whispered, “he’s frustrated and wants to be out finding villains.”
Lydia smiled in response, nodding her head. “I am praying for your both, dear Ivy.”
Ivy managed not to roll her eyes, merely accepting the sentiment. It was sufficient byplay to convince anyone near them that the Duke was still in danger and that Lydia was worried about both Duke and Duchess.
The little performance over, both women linked arms and walked to the ballroom.
“Oh my dear Duchess,” Lady Celchester bore down on them. “How brave of you to be out and about when your husband is in peril.”
“Truly, he is in my thoughts at all times, Ma’am,” replied Ivy. “But since the company here is of such high esteem to me, he agreed that I should take a little time away from his sickbed.” She lowered her eyes. “I worry, of course, but he is in the best of hands.”
“Laudable, your Grace. Most laudable. Please confer to his Grace that we are eagerly awaiting news of his recovery.”
“Thank you, my Lady. I shall certainly pass your words along. He will be much comforted by your kind sentiments.”
Lydia bobbed a curtsey and the two of them moved on.
“Nosy old besom,” she muttered beneath her breath. “Waiting to hear if he’s died, more like.”
“Lydia,” choked Ivy, biting back a laugh. “She isn’t that bad.”
“Yes she is, but you’d better get used to it, since you and his Grace aren’t exactly hiding your lights under any bushels. He’s allegedly at death’s door and you’re here at a dance. Not that this lot would make much of that, given the morals of our town, but still…you are a figure of interest.”
Ivy shrugged. “I have been ever since I married Colly. I think I’m getting used to it.”
“How is it? Being married?” Lydia’s eyes roamed over the ballroom.
“It’s…” Ivy paused. How could she answer that question honestly and not blush? “It’s very nice,” she compromised.
Lydia shot her a grin. “Coming from you, I’ll assume that means you’re incredibly happy and madly in love with the man of your dreams.”
Ivy chuckled, then squeezed Lydia’s arm. “Over there. Just coming in. Is that Miss Ringwood?”
“That’s her.” Rose’s voice sounded from behind them. “Judith’s on her way.”
“When do we take her?” Lydia hissed.
Ivy managed to control a giggle. “Lydia, we’re not capturing her and incarcerating her in a dungeon, you know. This isn’t one of Mrs Radcliffe’s novels.”
“No, but that’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.” Judith joined them just in time to catch Ivy’s protest. “Lacking a dungeon, we’ll use Lady Maud’s parlour, but how are we going to get her there without arousing her suspicions?”
The four of them stood quietly together for a few moments until Lady Maud strolled up. “Are we ready?”
“Yes indeed,” said Lydia. “We’re just trying to come up with a plan to get her out of the ballroom.”
“Hmm.” Maud gazed around. “I can take care of that for you. Why don’t you all gather in the small parlour and I’ll bring her to you in, say, five minutes?”
“You are a genius,” said Ivy. “That will be perfect.” She turned to the others. “Rose, you can wander down that hallway, Judith and I will chat while strolling, and Lydia…”
“I will hunt up Sir Laurence,” grinned Lydia. “Or at least pretend I’m looking for him.”
The plan in place, all four women drifted away and left Lady Maud to accomplish the task of cutting Miss Ringwood from the herd and delivering her to the waiting hands of her inquisitors.
It was accomplished with no difficulties, and shortly after their conversation, Miss Beatrice Ringwood entered an unfamiliar room just ahead of Lady Maud Sydenham.
Her surprise at seeing four women expecting her was evident in her raised eyebrows and indrawn breath.
She swung around. “Lady Maud…what is this? I understood you had something important to discuss with me. What are these…” she waved her fan at them, “these…persons doing here?”
“They will be part of our conversation, dear. Do sit down.”
In the face of such a calm and mannerly request, Miss Ringwood was helpless to do other than obey. She didn’t look very happy about it, and her fingers toyed with her fan, betraying her nerves.
“Miss Ringwood,” began Lydia. “Have you always been an idiot or is this a recent development?”
“What? I don’t…”
Ivy frowned at Lydia, then turned to the hapless girl opposite. “Miss Ringwood, I apologise for Miss Davenport. She tends to speak before fully considering her words.” She managed a smile. “Now, we’re here to discuss a matter of great import. And I’m sure you might guess that it is about the…the stories you’ve been relating to one and all concerning the behaviour of my husband, his Grace the Duke of Maidenbrooke.”
Lifting her chin, Miss Ringwood met her gaze without blinking. “What of it?”
“While we all understand the nature of gossip, Miss Ringwood, when those whispers are out and out lies that could ruin a fine man’s reputation, we are naturally concerned.” Judith spoke firmly. “His Grace has been seriously affected by the recent rumours as to his involvement in the political situation further north. We’d like to know why you decided to fuel those stories? And where you obtained your information…”
