"And I tell you, if you marry him and settle down, make the best of this situation, no one will talk at all, except about what a marvelous couple you are, and how you have tamed the wild Rakehell Clifford Stone."
She shot her brother a withering look over the rim of her coffee cup. "A man I hardly know, who is so lost to decency that he would gamble for a wife? Rakehell. Oh charming. Yes, indeed, he sounds just the right sort of chap for me," she said in a tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Gerald, please do not take me for a fool. I know I usually have my nose in a book or ledger, and I was about to have my season when aunt became ill, so I am not as well informed as many young ladies of the Ton. I know I have no reason to defend him after his appalling conduct last night, but there seems a great deal more to this affair than you are telling me."
"What on earth do you mean?" Gerald asked, his face like granite.
"I am not very worldly, I know, and have been gone from Millcote for many years. But public censure is seldom a hidden thing. Being as overt as it usually is, I find it surprising that you appear to be the only person at odds with Clifford in this district."
Gerald fiddled with his pocket nervously again, which she took as an admission of guilt.
"Oh, it's true. Servants do talk, after all. And you have already reminded me of how much the finer class of people here loves to gossip. Yet I can state with absolute certainty that I have never heard Mr. Stone spoken ill of in any circles I have traveled in, neither in the past nor now. Rakehell is supposed to be a nickname, no more, due to he and his friends' Radical politics, not their exploits with women.
"You tell me he is a debaucher, but no one else has imparted this information to me by way of warning. No one has come to the door expressing alarm or condolences, and not even my cousins have said a word against the match except insofar as they desire my wealth for their own.
"I only wish I could say your reputation was as good as Mr. Stone's. Your one and only season in London when you turned eighteen is still whispered over to this day by some of the more devout members of the gentry."
Gerald put down his cup impatiently. While he was eager to ensure that his dosage of the powder had been sufficient, he was damned if he was going to sit there while she preached to him. Besides, it would look better if he was out of the house and in full view of all the company at one of the local taverns when Vanessa met her end. And a feigned illness might not go amiss either. Blame it on the oysters, and all would be well.
Was it his wishful thinking, or was she already starting to look a bit green?
"Vanessa, I appreciate all you are doing for me. Nevertheless, please keep in mind that I am the head of this household. I will not tolerate being lectured by a mere girl several years my junior. So, if you will forgive me, I shall go over to James' house for more congenial company." He rose from his chair stiffly, looking the picture of wounded indignation.
"You mean the local tavern," she countered, quirking one eyebrow.
"I said James Cavendish's house. You have no right to doubt my word. But if he does happen to suggest we go down to the local tavern, who am I to gainsay my host?"
She shook her head and waved him out with her fan, her head truly throbbing in earnest now. "Go you on then. So much for enjoying my company and an improving book."
"You should retire early, Sister. You will have a long day tomorrow. Planning for a wedding can be so time-consuming."
She opened her mouth to protest, but he was already gone, leaving her rigid with anger.
As Simms the butler helped him into his greatcoat, he instructed, "You might as well get off to bed early, all of you. My sister is about to retire, and there is no point in you waiting up for me. I shall stay at the Cavendishes' house this night, and shall see you on the morrow.
"Lock everything up behind me securely. I do not wish my sister to be left in this house unprotected, and must take steps to find her an appropriate chaperone."
"Of course, sir," Simms replied.
For the life of him he could not imagine what the young master thought was worth stealing in the ramshackle old place. There was nothing of value left from his parents' time, and Miss Vanessa had never been one for ostentatious jewels or trinkets.
But at least he appeared to be solicitous of his sibling, which was no more than the lovely young lady deserved.
As soon as Gerald left the house, taking the family's only small conveyance with him, Simms summoned the footman, Hartley. Together they began securing the heavy wooden shutters on the ground floor windows.