Page 4 of A Most Forgettable Girl

James frowned. “That is hardly my concern.”

“Now that I think about it, I believe her name was mentioned in connection with that Fulsham business. Did you hear about his engagement with Mistress Linfield? Entered into without the guardian’s consent apparently but they got their own way in the end. The scandal’s good as died down by now. I heard they’re living at Linfield Hall in married bliss.”

“You mean, she encouraged a clandestine betrothal?” James asked with deep foreboding.

“Aye, that’s the sum of it. Apparently, she and the Linfield chit were thick as thieves at one time.” When James remained disapprovingly silent, Neville leaned forward. “Some say they put the cart before the horse and old Sir Joseph had no choice but to let them wed.” He slanted a knowing look at his brother. It was wasted on James, who merely shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Neville tsked. “That is because you do not pay enough attention to palace gossip.”

“I do not pay any attention to it,” James corrected him swiftly.

“You need not sound so pleased with yourself. Perhaps if you did, you would have a good deal more patrons beating down your doors.”

James gave a fatalistic sigh, suddenly weary of the conversation. “Perhaps you are right.”

“Certainly I am. If you would only concern yourself a little more with popularity and a little less with scrupulous respectability, I feel sure you would be more successful. I daresay this Mistress Payne is far merrier company than Lady Constance and her ilk. I don’t know why you subject yourself to such company.”

“Yes, you do,” James responded shortly.

Neville’s expression instantly sobered. “Well, yes, I know why,” he admitted in a low voice. “All the family do, and we appreciate your sacrifice. But must it be this heiress in particular? Answer me that?”

“Most readily,” James replied at once. “Constance Northcott is a serious-minded young woman of impeccable breeding and large fortune who will bring decorum and grace to the role we all expect her to play at Wycliffe Hall.”

Neville looked resigned. “I suppose Mother will approve of her at least.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“It’s just...” Neville waved a hand. “Mayhap there is another with full coffers who might actually put a smile on your face, brother. Constance does not have it in her to make you happy, I’m convinced of it.”

“Happy?” James echoed blankly. “That will hardly be one of her responsibilities. I will be busy at court composing, and she will be employed with the running of Wycliffe Hall. If we could entrust that to a safe pair of hands, then I will be a good deal happier, I assure you.”

Neville sighed. “I suppose that is true. Have you heard much from home lately?” he asked without enthusiasm.

“I had a letter from Mother two days ago,” James said shortly. “Believe me, you do not want to know its contents.”

Neville winced. “The old man’s on some mad start again, I daresay,” he lamented. “It beats me how he manages to find the energy, let alone the funds.”

“Oh, he manages,” James said bitterly. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way, and he can always find some fool willing to extend him a line of credit. I would not mind so much if the bills did not invariably end up in my lap.”

“Perhaps we should smother him in his drunken slumbers one dark night.”

James shook his head at his brother’s flippancy, and Neville’s gaze returned to the two whispering women. “Do you know,” he decided, perking up, “I believe you’re right about Mistress Payne. From the glances she’s darting your way, I think she is maligning you to Constance!”

“I knew it.” James whipped around to glare at the offending party. He made a muffled sound of annoyance.

“Where are you going?” Neville asked in some alarm.

“To find out what her game is,” James responded grimly.

*

“You will be most upset with me, Gunnilde, and I’m sure that I cannot blame you,” Constance said, her pretty face troubled. “I am quite vexed with myself for not entirely crushing his pretentions in the spring.”

Gunnilde eyed her friend with surprise. Her attention had wandered, for Lady Schaeffer had walked in wearing the most magnificent headpiece. It was a kind of padded roll worn high on her head in the shape of a heart, and Gunnilde was so taken with it that she turned her head to watch Lady Schaeffer’s progress about the room. How wonderful it must be to be a married lady and able to wear such ostentatious headdresses!

By the time she refocused on her friend, it was clear the conversation had taken a turn. For some reason, Constance seemed to expect her to be upset with her. “What can you mean, Constance?” she asked, careful not to betray the fact she had not been listening. “I dare assure you I could never be cross with you.”