Page 132 of Oddity of the Ton
“Is your aunt in town, Lady Arabella?” Monty asked.
“Why should she be?” she replied, a note of irritation in her voice. “I’m of age now, and can do what I please.”
“No young woman may do what she pleases,” Monty said.
“I beg to differ, Whitcombe,” Dunton said. “This delightful creature is now mistress of her destiny.”
Lady Arabella scowled, her brow furrowing into a frown, rendering her usually beautiful face quite ugly.
“I can speak for myself,” she snapped.
To think—Mother wanted me to marry that creature!
Dunton glanced at the building, then let out a bark of laughter. “Of course! Have you come to satisfy yourself that they’ve reaped the reward of their labors?”
“They?”
“The Howards, of course!” Dunton chuckled, spraying droplets of spittle. Beside him, Lady Arabella wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“Have they left London?” Monty asked.
“Sir Leonard’s given up this house,” Dunton replied. “I believe he’s somewhere in Cheapside—or so Lady Arabella’s modiste said. I suppose it’s best that he return to his kind.”
“His kind?”
“Shop folk,” Dunton said. “I can’t abide shop folk who try to foist their hideous offspring onto the likes of us. And he’s no reason to stay now both daughters have left.”
“Both?”
Monty’s small bud of hope disintegrated at Dunton’s words.
“I think congratulations are in order,” Dunton said. “What do you think, my dear?”
Lady Arabella, her eyes the color of ice, inclined her head in the manner of a queen acknowledging her subjects.
I’m too late.
Eleanor must have married Colonel Reid. And some foolish man had taken her sister on. Monty thought Juliette had managed to snare Dunton, but Dunton must have transferred his affections to Lady Arabella, with her title and significantly larger fortune.
Honestly, he didn’t know which out of Juliette and Arabella was the worse prospect for a happy marriage. Not that Dunton would care—he’d resume his whoring once Arabella had given him an heir.
“Is Colonel Reid in town?” Monty asked.
“Why the deuce would you care?” Dunton scoffed.
“I’d like to pay my respects to him and his bride.”
“His bride?” Confusion clouded Dunton’s expression, then he threw back his head and roared with laughter, emitting another spray of spittle. “Ha! You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?” Monty asked, itching to slam his fists into that fat, fleshy face.
“Reid’s returned to his regiment. The congratulations are for myself and Lady Arabella.”
For a moment, Monty simply stared at them.
Then Lady Arabella frowned. “Have you forgotten your manners?”
“Forgive me, no,” Monty said. “I congratulate you both. I cannot think of a couple better suited to one another.”
