"Hay rides?" The dowager's eyes widened in horror. The thought that anyone could prefer country living to Town life was inconceivable. "Cora, is it possible your niece prefers sitting in hay and birthing cows to society?"
"No, no!" insisted Lady Bremerton. "She is such a silly girl, always saying the wrong thing. Remember, Genie, to sit and look pretty. Try not to open your mouth and never, under any circumstances, mention hay!"
"Yes, Aunt Cora," said Genie, duly chastised.
"I heard Miss Talbot was recently presented in court," said the dowager with a raised eyebrow, and it was Lady Bremerton's turn to stiffen.
"I had hoped perhaps the news had not spread," murmured Lady Bremerton.
"My dear Cora, it is all over Town," replied the dowager. "The Comtesse de Marseille visited me earlier today."
"Odious gossip! Did she mention the situation?"
"She talked of little else."
Lady Bremerton wilted gracefully back in her chair and put her hand to her forehead. "This is dreadful. Simply dreadful. The comtesse will spread it like the plague. I have never been more humiliated in all my life. Genie is certainly ruined!"
"You know the Comtesse de Marseille," said the dowager.
"Yes, I do, that heartless viper! I do not dare throw Genie a ball now. Who would attend? I fear my reputation will be forever tarnished by this affair."
"What are you going to do?" asked the dowager.
"If she could marry and quickly, but who would marry her now?" asked Lady Bremerton.
Genie's cheeks burned at being the center of such blunt conversation. "I understand, Aunt Cora, if you would prefer for me to simply return home."
"Surely this one incident can be overcome," said Miss Rose, joining the conversation. "I have witnessed far worse breaches of etiquette tolerated in society."
"But one must first be established in society before one can break the rules," observed the dowager.
"You also heard of the incident?" Genie asked Miss Rose.
"It was in the papers," the girl explained with an apologetic shrug.
"It was?" asked Genie. Did not London have anything better to talk about than her terrible gaffe?
Lady Bremerton leaned back in her chair and groaned softly. "No wonder the butler said the papers had not been delivered. My dearest Antonia, I am relying on you to help us!"
"She is young," said the dowager. "Surely some allowances can be made. If you handle it correctly, she could be known as an original. Of course, she must have an offer soon."
Lady Bremerton shook her head. "But who? I doubt Genie will be receiving any invitations now."
"Is she well dowered?" asked the dowager in her straightforward manner.
"She has twenty thousand pounds for a dowry, but I would be willing to add to it if only she could be respectably taken off my hands."
"Would you now?"
"I could not ask that of you, Aunt Cora," said Genie. "I think it would be best if I leave for home."
"Yes, perhaps there is nothing else to do," sighed Lady Bremerton. "Mayhap Antonia can give you a ride out of London when she moves to the country."
"I have no plans to leave London," repeated the dowager crisply.
"Is there nothing that can repair Miss Talbot's reputation?" asked Penelope.
The dowager gazed at Penelope as if just noticing her. "My dear Miss Rose, you must think me a cruel host, making you carry around that bandbox."
"Not at all, Your Grace," said Penelope. "I fear I arrived at an inconvenient time, when you had visitors."
"Not at all. Let me show you to your room, so you may put away your things. I believe your trunks have already arrived. Cora, dear, do you mind if I step out for a moment?"
Lady Bremerton demurred and the dowager led Miss Rose out of the room. As soon as they had quit the room, Lady Bremerton walked over to the paper the dowager had placed on the side table and snatched it out from underneath the book.
"Aunt Cora!" gasped Genie.
"Quiet! I must find out what had Antonia is such a state. Ah, it is a letter from Marchford."
"Really, Aunt, I do not think-"
"Good. Do not think. Ah, see here, Marchford has threatened to cut off her funds unless she moves to the country." Aunt Cora's eyes gleamed. "Good lad, I did not think he had it in him."
"Why would he do such a thing?" asked Genie, shocked that a grandson could be so heavy-handed with his own grandmother.
"You do not understand," said Lady Bremerton, placing the letter back under the book and returning to her seat. "The dowager did not approve of the previous Duchess of Marchford, and while I cannot say I quite approved of the previous duke's choice of a second wife, the dowager was perfectly beastly to her. Eventually … well, the less said about that the better, but suffice to say, I will not have my daughter treated in such a dreadful manner."
Genie hoped her aunt would expound on what happened to the previous Duchess of Marchford, but her aunt apparently approved of snooping but not gossip and said nothing more. Genie clasped her hands in front of herself. What had she gotten herself into?
Six
Penelope Rose followed the duchess to her new bedroom, wondering if her decision to act as the elderly woman's companion was entirely sound. She had not anticipated being engaged with company quite so soon, and there definitely appeared to be something amiss in the Marchford household.
"Here is your room," said the dowager, sweeping into a bright room of sky blue and cream. The mahogany poster bed was draped with light blue curtains, which matched the drapes on the window. There was a delicate blue and cream flowered paper on the walls and a dressing table of the same rich mahogany wood. The drapes were pulled back to reveal large windows with a fine view of the garden in the back of the house. It was an elegant room, better than any room Pen had ever had. And it was all hers, not to be shared with one or two of her sisters.
"It is beautiful." In her excitement over the room, Pen moved her hands around the side of the bandbox, forgetting she had to hold it just so or it would … "Oh!" exclaimed Pen as the bottom ripped out of the box and the contents spilled onto the floor.
"Your box seems to have ripped," commented the dowager.
Frantically, Pen sank to her knees to snatch her belongings off the floor and pile them next to her on the writing table. Her diary, a stack of letters tied in ribbon, a parcel of her sketches and watercolors even she had to admit were poor, her needlepoint workbag, but where was her book?
Debrett's Peerage of England had slid across the floor near the dowager. Pen made a quick grab for it, picking it up by the spine. She placed it on the table with the rest of her belongings, but multiple sheets of thin paper fell from the volume to the floor.
"What is this?" The dowager picked up one of the sheets and began to read.
Pen scrambled to grab the other pages and regained her feet, her brain racing to find some rational explanation. "It is nothing. Nothing of importance."
"Why, it has the name of Mr. Grant with an entry just like out of the peerage, his date of birth, holdings, family, connects, estimated annual income. That is not part of Debrett's. What is this?" For an elderly lady, she certainly had no difficulty reading the tiny script on the page.
"Please, Your Grace, it is nothing, just a bit of schoolgirl silliness," said Penelope in an octave a bit higher than her own. She had promised her sisters the precious volumes of Debrett's guide would not fall into enemy hands. Much to her horror the dowager walked to the table and picked up the copy of the Peerage.
"Why some of these entries have a good deal of writing in the margins." The dowager flipped through the pages and Pen resisted the urge to grab the book from the dowager's hands. "You have listed every man … no, every bachelor between here and Hadrian's Wall."
"Not every bachelor, just the ones we have met or learned about since coming to London." Pen winced at her own words. She was not helping her situation. It was unbearably hot in the room.
The duchess gave her a cold look. "I do not know what you are playing at, but we are a respectable household," said the dowager with a voice like thin ice.
"Oh no, Your Grace, it is nothing like that."
The duchess's clear suspicion compelled Penelope to explain herself further lest she be accused of keeping a book of men to arrange a less conventional sort of arrangement. "When we first came to London, my two elder sisters and I entered society first. It was hoped we could find suitable husbands. My eldest sister became quite popular. Within a month, my uncle had received ten offers for her hand. Within two months, men were coming to speak to him almost daily."