Page 9 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
Eudora frowned, feeling pity for poor Lady Albermay—how wretched to be stuck with such a boor of a husband. Lord Albermay had already quarreled with his son - who had arrived unexpectedly and uninvited - and looked set to quarrel with Lord Percival, the dowager duchess’ friend. Apparently, the pair had been down at Oxford together more than half a century before and had disliked each other since.
“Don’t fret, Jane,” Eudora assured her sister, “I’m sure the week will be a great success - and you have Captain Ledger to smooth things over should anything go amiss. He’s quite charming, is he not?”
Eudora’s attempt at nonchalance fell flat, and Jane gave a knowing laugh. Happily married though she was, Jane was not blind to the appeal of the dashing captain, who was engagedin an animated conversation with Ivo and Mr Lowell, the industrialist.
“He’s very charming, but I feel he has given his heart to another,” Jane said rather mysteriously, “Now, be a dear, and go rescue Lord Percival and the duchess from our mother’s clutches. She’s regaling them with tales of her knitting skills; I fear they’ll both be asleep before the gong goes for dinner.”
Eudora dutifully complied and tripped across the room to the settee where the trio sat. Mrs Mifford, who appeared to be practicing the old adage “keep your enemies close”, was practically sitting on Cecilia’s lap.
“Knit one, drop one, pearl one - isn’t that what they say?”
Eudora hid a smile as she caught the last snippet of her mother’s words. Mrs Mifford might not have any knitting skills, but she did have the unique ability to cast herself as an expert on matters of which she had no knowledge.
“Miss Mifford,” Cecilia said, with much relief, as she spotted Eudora, “How lovely to see you. Have you been introduced to Lord Percival? Wilbert, wake up. I’m about to introduce you to a charming young lady, but I don’t get any ideas, for her mama tells me she’s practically engaged with another!”
As the duchess formally introduced Eudora to the elderly earl, she frantically wondered how many people her mother had declared her almost engaged to. She could not catch her mother’s eye, however, for Mrs Mifford was rather pointedly examining the frescoes on the ceiling.
Eudora felt herself flush with annoyance; her sisters’ meddling was bad enough, but Mrs Mifford had all the subtlety of a knock from a carriage and four. Heaven only knew how much havoc and embarrassment she might wreak over the week-long party if inclined.
“Engaged, eh?” Lord Percival commented, squinting across at Eudora, “Mind you keep yourself to yourself, my girl. SomeLothario might try sweep you out from under your affianced’s feet, then leave you in the lurch for the fun of it.”
What an oddly specific warning, Eudora thought, as Cecilia tapped her fan impatiently against Lord Percival’s arm.
“Really, Wilbert,” she scolded him, “That happened before I was even born; don’t tell me you still dwell on your loss?”
The earl snorted in response, sending his jowls quivering for a good minute or so.
“Men,” Cecilia tinkled, her eyes dancing, “They’re incorrigible.”
Eudora rather thought that the duchess was incorrigible; since Mary had married Northcott, the dowager duchess had produced no less than four male “friends” who followed her around like puppies.
Eudora and her mother were saved the awkwardness of having to skirt around Lord Percival’s blatant dislike for a fellow guest when the gong sounded to call them to supper.
“Finally,” Cecilia declared as she stood, “I am famished.”
She offered her arm to Lord Percival to escort her to the dining room. Mr Mifford then came to collect his wife, who was eying the duchess’ opulent silk gown with envy.
“You never buy me gowns as nice as that, Albert,” she groused.
“Surely you could knit one yourself, dear?” Mr Mifford gamely replied.
Eudora hid a smile, glad that someone had taken her mother down a peg or two - especially after her earlier meddling. That same smile faltered as the rest of the room paired off to walk to the dining room, leaving Eudora with -
“It would be my honour to escort you to dinner, Miss Mifford,” Lord Delaney said, as he appeared at her side.
“It’s only in the next room,” Eudora mumbled, but as it would be rude to refuse his offer, she placed her hand upon his arm.
It felt surprisingly strong and solid, she realised with a start. Perhaps she should not have been shocked, for Lord Delaney was a solid sort of man. He was tall, with broad shoulders and the athletic frame of a gentleman who regularly engaged in outdoor pursuits. Even his colouring was solid; chestnut brown hair, which curled at the collar, and eyes as deep and brown as her own.
“I’m afraid that I have no news about our friend from earlier,” the baron said as he walked Eudora to the dining room, “I was hoping I would have something to share, but, alas, Dr Bates does not appear to have finished his examination.”
Eudora thought it more likely that Dr Bates had not begun it at all, but she kept this to herself.
“Do you believe there’s something amiss too?” she questioned him, “I told the story to my sisters, but they never take me seriously.”
They had arrived at Eudora’s designated seat, and Lord Delaney released her arm, allowing him to turn and face her.
“I take you very seriously, Miss Mifford,” he said, then he pulled out the chair so she could sit down.
