feels that because of the peculiar circumstances between herself and you—your family—it would not be quite proper for her to attend.” She observed him closely, to try to gauge whether he understood this reference to his father.
He did not seem to. “The ‘peculiar circumstance’ between Sir Lawrence and Mrs. Pealing does not appear to bother my sister.”
“No, it does not bother my aunt either, for there was very little to it after all. I speak of a circumstance much closer to home—to yourself, that is.”
“If you mean to imply there was something between your aunt and myself, I might just point out to you what I should have thought would be clear...”
“To the meanest capacity!” she threw in.
He blinked. “The disparity between our ages. She is old enough to be my mother.” He thought they were joking and even let another smile come within ame’s ace of lightening his countenance.
“And might almost have been your mother, during her affair with the late Duke of St. Felix.”
The smile died aborning, and St. Felix’s brow darkened. He was silent for thirty seconds, catching his breath and digesting the infamy of her charge. “That is a lie!” he said in frigid accents. “My father was always a man of the highest principles. There has never been a whisper of any scandal connected with him. He lived the life of a saint.”
“Saint Bacchus, perhaps!” she answered, her resentment at Effie’s ill usage coming to the boil.
“If you put one word of such a calumny into that scandal-mongering obscenity you and your witch of an aunt are writing, I’ll drag you through every court in the land on a charge of libel!”
“What a delightful prospect for you, Your Grace! A totally new mud lustre added to the family escutcheon. I daresay it would add thousands to the sale of the book.”
“You are utterly without scruples. I thought blackmailing those who are guilty was the worst of it, but I see now there is a lower rung to your ladder of which I was unaware. You mean to smear the innocent as well with outright lies, after they are in their graves and unable to defend themselves. Well, I take leave to tell you, I will not stand still for this, Miss.”
“I don’t expect you to. I’ll see you dance to my tune before many days are out.”
He stared at her as though she were a devil incarnate and didn’t doubt for one moment she would do exactly as she threatened. Even in the midst of his anger, he knew he must protect the family name. “What is it you want from me?” he demanded.
“A voucher to Almack’s,” she replied with a sweet, innocent smile, this having been mentioned as the one unattainable object.
“Impossible! They have rules at Almack’s. It is restricted to ladies and gentlemen of quality.”
“My father’s ancestors were amongst the first baronets created by James I.”
“Impressive!” he said with a withering glance. “My ancestors were amongst the first dukes created by William the Conqueror five hundred years previously.”
“And on my mother’s side, we are related..."
“On your mother’s side you are, unfortunately, related to Mrs. Pealing. You might as well expect a voucher to heaven as to Almack’s.”
“I haven’t given up hope of either one. And I’ll let you in on a little secret, Your Ancient Grace, I do not hold the two to be comparable as you seem to do. Heaven stands a little higher in my priorities.”
“It is an odd way you go about securing your priorities.”
“So it is, but efficient nevertheless.”
“What bargain have you struck with the Almighty to wedge your way into the Celestial City?”
“I have undertaken to lessen the pride of certain noble gentlemen who hold themselves very high. Pride, you must know, was an abhorred thing according to the Bible, to say nothing of going before a fall.”
“You have the quotation, like everything else, inaccurate, Ma’am. Let me refer you to a more pertinent one. ‘A liar should be
He did not seem to. “The ‘peculiar circumstance’ between Sir Lawrence and Mrs. Pealing does not appear to bother my sister.”
“No, it does not bother my aunt either, for there was very little to it after all. I speak of a circumstance much closer to home—to yourself, that is.”
“If you mean to imply there was something between your aunt and myself, I might just point out to you what I should have thought would be clear...”
“To the meanest capacity!” she threw in.
He blinked. “The disparity between our ages. She is old enough to be my mother.” He thought they were joking and even let another smile come within ame’s ace of lightening his countenance.
“And might almost have been your mother, during her affair with the late Duke of St. Felix.”
The smile died aborning, and St. Felix’s brow darkened. He was silent for thirty seconds, catching his breath and digesting the infamy of her charge. “That is a lie!” he said in frigid accents. “My father was always a man of the highest principles. There has never been a whisper of any scandal connected with him. He lived the life of a saint.”
“Saint Bacchus, perhaps!” she answered, her resentment at Effie’s ill usage coming to the boil.
“If you put one word of such a calumny into that scandal-mongering obscenity you and your witch of an aunt are writing, I’ll drag you through every court in the land on a charge of libel!”
“What a delightful prospect for you, Your Grace! A totally new mud lustre added to the family escutcheon. I daresay it would add thousands to the sale of the book.”
“You are utterly without scruples. I thought blackmailing those who are guilty was the worst of it, but I see now there is a lower rung to your ladder of which I was unaware. You mean to smear the innocent as well with outright lies, after they are in their graves and unable to defend themselves. Well, I take leave to tell you, I will not stand still for this, Miss.”
“I don’t expect you to. I’ll see you dance to my tune before many days are out.”
He stared at her as though she were a devil incarnate and didn’t doubt for one moment she would do exactly as she threatened. Even in the midst of his anger, he knew he must protect the family name. “What is it you want from me?” he demanded.
“A voucher to Almack’s,” she replied with a sweet, innocent smile, this having been mentioned as the one unattainable object.
“Impossible! They have rules at Almack’s. It is restricted to ladies and gentlemen of quality.”
“My father’s ancestors were amongst the first baronets created by James I.”
“Impressive!” he said with a withering glance. “My ancestors were amongst the first dukes created by William the Conqueror five hundred years previously.”
“And on my mother’s side, we are related..."
“On your mother’s side you are, unfortunately, related to Mrs. Pealing. You might as well expect a voucher to heaven as to Almack’s.”
“I haven’t given up hope of either one. And I’ll let you in on a little secret, Your Ancient Grace, I do not hold the two to be comparable as you seem to do. Heaven stands a little higher in my priorities.”
“It is an odd way you go about securing your priorities.”
“So it is, but efficient nevertheless.”
“What bargain have you struck with the Almighty to wedge your way into the Celestial City?”
“I have undertaken to lessen the pride of certain noble gentlemen who hold themselves very high. Pride, you must know, was an abhorred thing according to the Bible, to say nothing of going before a fall.”
“You have the quotation, like everything else, inaccurate, Ma’am. Let me refer you to a more pertinent one. ‘A liar should be
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