Much love,
Your cousin Mary, Lady Dyott
March 18, 1817
The Countess of Bredelbane to the Earl of Kerr
The news of your appalling jest has spread throughout the town. I have no doubt but that Emma has heard every loathsome detail. Can you not consider your duty, which is clearly to provide an heir to the estate without delay?
The Countess & etc.
March 18, 1817
Gilbert Baring-Gould, Earl of Kerr, to the Countess of Bredelbane
Dearest Godmama,
I’ll marry Miss Loudan someday, but not this week. And certainly not due to a jest on my part, if admittedly in poor taste. Don’t you think that the ton has become alarmingly illiterate, given that no one seems to recognize a Shakespeare play? I shouldn’t worry about the question of an heir; I’ve heard that country air is remarkably healthy. I can turn out five or six little Kerrs in the next decade.
Yours with affection,
Gil
March 19, 1817
Lady Flaskell to her sister, The Hon. Emma Loudan
Dearest,
I was suffering from a stomach upset and so missed the initial flurry of news about Kerr. Darling, I’m so sorry! But we must move quickly, Emma, given that your betrothal obviously must be terminated. You are all of twenty-four now, and fiancés, especially those with a hefty fortune and title, do not grow on trees. You have been immured in the country so long that you have no idea what it is like here. Women are considered decayed at two and twenty. You must come to London at once and find a husband. I shall arrive tomorrow and expect tly and expo find you packed.
With love,
Your sister Bethany Lynn
March 19, 1817
The Earl of Kerr to Mademoiselle Benoit
Madeline, ma cherie,
While I naturally adore you and kiss your feet in pure admiration, it would not be prudent for me to accompany you to the opera tonight. The Puritans are out in force. In fact, I am very much afraid that I shall have to forgo the pleasure of your company in the future. Please accept this ruby as the smallest hint of my regard for you. Tu seras toujours dan mon cœur měme si tu ne seras pas toujours avec moi.
Kerr
March 19, 1817
The Countess of Bredelbane to the Earl of Kerr
Kerr:
I can’t force you to abide honorably by the vows that your father made on your behalf. I take your behavior much amiss though, and I say that to you seriously. I shall write Emma myself and try to soothe her feelings. I’ve no doubt but that she’s hearing the same as I: that you intend to marry some rubbishing Frenchwoman with putative claims to being a lady. Do so, Kerr, and you will never darken my door again.
The Countess of Bredalbane
March 20, 1817
Gilbert Baring-Gould, Earl of Kerr, to the Countess of Bredalbane
Tsk, tsk, dearest Godmama.
You who know your Shakespeare so well should avoid clichés about darkened doors and such like. When my sainted godfather was alive, did he object to your sharp tongue? I go about my business with a rejoicing heart, knowing that you will soothe Miss Loudan’s troubled brow. You needn’t worry about Mademoiselle Benoit. While I shall always find a French accent irrésistible, I concede that the country charmer is my fate. I also know that you, my sainted godmother, would never wish for me, her beloved godson, to be unhappy, so you will forgive me if I cease to think about marriage this very moment.
Yours & Etc.
Gil
Chapter Two
March 21, 1817
The Countess of Bredelbane to Gilbert Baring-Gould, Earl of Kerr
Kerr:
You were always an impudent child; I shall never forget how you made me laugh when you first arrived in my house, and your parents gone but a month. Still, there is an edge to your jests that gives me concern. How dare you speak of being unhappy to marry Emma? The poor girl will surely have need of valor, given that your foolish quotation has gone so terribly awry. I am surprised that she has not yet terminated your engagement. Expect me tomorrow after nuncheon.
Yours & etc.
The Countess
15 St. James’s Place, London
“You are the shame of your sex,” Lord Lockwood said, stretching out his long legs and regarding his boots with pleasure. “You make far too much of yourself, and have strayed into dissolute habits, and now your doom is upon you. I am inordinantly happy to see it happen.”
“Don’t be so intolerably smug,” his companion retorted. “Your reputation is as low as mine has ever been. ‘Twas you who thought it’d be a good idea to bring Madeline and her friend to Sandleford’s house. I said it’d be a boring affair.”
“It wasn’t boring after you made such an ass of yourself quoting the bard,” Lockwood pointed out. “Would you put on a shirt, if you please? It turns my stomach to look at your shoulders. You’re muscled like a barge man, Kerr. Grotesquely unfashionable, I might add.”