"Well, that does sound a trifle flat," conceded Grant, only to be faced with a glowering Lord Bremerton.
"Flat? Why it would be unconscionable! This innocent child must be protected," demanded Genie.
The innocent child in question was at that moment lifting the silver spoons from the tea tray and pocketing them.
"He does seem to have a tendency to steal, dear," said Lady Bremerton with a wave of her handkerchief. "We cannot allow it in the house."
"But only because he has never been instructed in the proper way. Now put those spoons back on the tea tray, Jemmy, there's a good lad." Genie beamed down at her grimy little protégé.
"He is fortunate we do not call the magistrate immediately," said Lord Bremerton.
"Surely you would not do that," gasped Genie.
"Perhaps I can be of assistance." Grant stepped forward. He was the master of any difficult social situation, though this was a scene quite unknown to him. All eyes were now on him, but the only ones he saw were Genie's bright blue ones, alive with fire and looking up at him like a hero of old.
"Perhaps I can take the lad home, find a suitable home for him." No one was more surprised by this suggestion than Grant himself.
"Demmed fool," muttered Lord Bremerton, but it was not him whose opinion mattered to Mr. Grant.
Genie walked up to Grant and put her hand on his sleeve. "Would you?" Her eyes were wide with hope, and a smile graced her full, rose lips. He would have said yes to anything.
"Certainly. Christian duty and all, as you said."
"Christian duty?" said Lord Bremerton with a guffaw. "I never knew you to be one of those do-gooders, Grant."
"Yes, but if you are inclined to take the boy, we would be most grateful." Here, the lady of the house gave her husband a silencing glance, and his lordship caught her meaning and said no more.
"This is most kind of you," said Genie. "Most kind." Her eyes were a kind of liquid fire that would no doubt be the death of him.
"Yes, yes, most kind," said Lady Bremerton with a furtive glance at the door as if calculating how quickly she could return her sitting room to rights without the unwanted presence of a street urchin.
"Now, Jemmy," said Genie, kneeling down to speak with him eye to eye, "would you like to go with this kind gentleman? He will help take care of you."
"He does look a flash cove, miss. Is 'e the bloke wi' the racing phaeton I saw out the window there?"
"I believe I am that ‘bloke,'" replied Grant.
"Can I drive them bays ye' got, guv'nor?" Jem's eyes grew large with anticipation.
"Certainly not," said Grant with a shudder. A child drive his bays? It was too hideous even to consider. Genie looked up at him with pleading eyes, and he fell into some alternate state of existence where he wooed debutantes, cared for the needy, and let a young thief hold the reins to his new matched bays.
"Thems fine steppers," said Jem.
The sound of the boy's voice broke the spell and Grant returned to his senses. "They are at that and you're not to touch them. You may, if you are a good lad and do not squirm, sit beside me on the box."
That was enough incentive for any young thief, and he readily agreed to follow Grant wherever he might lead. Genie deftly fished the silver butter knife and a china tea plate out of Jem's pocket, and they were ready to go.
"Thank you again, Mr. Grant, for your kindness," said Genie. "I suspect you and Jem will become the best of friends."
Grant suspected that was far from the truth but smiled and said nothing. Within a few minutes, Grant was seated on his high-perch racing phaeton, a dirty child by his side. He had come for his greatcoat and to talk with a pretty girl but, through circumstances that yet eluded him, had ended up with an urchin.
Sixteen
"George!" Genie flung her arms around a well-built young man and gave him a good squeeze. "Whatever are you doing here?"
"Took a break from school and thought I'd come see you." The young man was tall, well-proportioned, and if his coat was not cut with the exacting precision of the latest mode, he at least filled it out better than most young gentlemen of the ton. His hair was dark and short, a contrast to his sea blue eyes.
"Do you mean you have a break from university or you are taking a break?"
George gave a guilty smile. "I needed a break. Too many books, makes me batty."
"So of course you decided to meet me at the lending library," laughed Genie. She had responded to George's note by agreeing to meet him the next day at Hookham's Lending Library.
"I suppose that was poor planning on my part."
"Does Father know you are here, Brother dear?"
"No, course not!" He took her hand and pulled her gently into a secluded corner of the room and lowered his voice to speak privately. "What's this I hear of your debut? What happened?"
"Oh, please tell me the news has not traveled all the way to Oxford."
"Aunt Cora wrote to Mum and she wrote me concerned."
Genie sighed. She was tired of telling this story. It was good to see her brother, but she was not pleased at how her failure was becoming well known even outside of London. Had people nothing better to do? "I laughed in front of the queen."
"And?" prompted George.
"And nothing. I laughed. She did not find it amusing, and that made me laugh harder."
"You are in trouble for laughing? What an odd lot these town folk are."
Genie shrugged. "I did not make a positive impression with the queen and that is apparently enough to become a social pariah."
"So go back home. You're in no need of anyone's good opinion."
"Go home after only a few weeks here? After the way Mama was forced to leave London? She was so hoping I could restore the family name by being accepted in society. How could I possibly face her?"
"Got a point there. Tell you what, I'll think on it for you."
Genie gave her younger brother another little hug. His presence was comforting, even if he could hardly do anything to repair the damage she had done.
"Shall we walk back to Bremerton house for tea?" asked Genie. "I should like to introduce you to our cousin Louisa whom you have never met."
"No, no, and I'll thank you not to let anyone know I am here. If Aunt Cora sees me, she'll write Mother before the tea gets cold."
"I suppose you are right," conceded Genie. "But where are you going to stay? What are you going to do?"
"I came down with some friends from school. They know some places for amusement."
"Please tell me you are not going to visit one of those filthy gaming"-Genie searched for a word that was not a synonym of Hades-"a gaming establishment."
"Don't worry about me. I know what I'm about."
But Genie did worry. Particularly if her baby brother-he would always be that to her-was going into one of those gambling hells, known for preying on young men.
"I have heard horrible things that happen in those places," said Genie.
"Yes, I've heard that too. Why else would I want to go?"
"George!"
George smiled, looking all the more endearing for being naughty. "I'll be careful, but I must be allowed some fun. I'm going about as Mr. Smythe-isn't it a famous scheme? No one will know I am here. I'll get to have a lark and return to Oxford before anyone is the wiser."
Genie sighed. "I miss the time when a rocking horse was all you needed for amusement."
"Maybe if you made me a big one." George smiled. "Maybe I can help you too."
"How would you do that?"
"Don't know. But I should think myself quite flat if I didn't at least make an effort to help my favorite sister."
"I am your only sister."
"See? Your place in my heart is forever secure!"
Brother and sister talked for a while longer before George offered to hail Genie a hack to take her back home. When they left the library, the Comtesse de Marseille looked up from a particularly large volume with a particularly wicked smile.
***
"Must I be present?" asked the duke the next day over tea.
"Yes." The dowager unlocked the tea caddy and carefully mixed a blend of teas to suit her.
"There is no option?"
"We have invited Lord and Lady Bremerton, Lady Louisa, and Miss Talbot. Of course you must be present." The dowager poured hot water into the teapot to warm the vessel.
"And who else will be at the table?"
"A few gentlemen, no one for you to be concerned about." As part of the plot to find Genie a husband, the dowager and Penelope had planned a dinner party of eligible men. The dowager had waited until teatime to let her grandson know his presence was required.
"Do I need to keep guessing or are you going to tell me what plot you are hatching?" Marchford glanced between the dowager and Penelope, but neither spoke. The dowager appeared consumed in her duties as hostess, sprinkling the tea into the teapot and pouring fresh hot water over the top.