Page 65 of A Season for Scandal

“Don’t be ridiculous, Beth,” Oliver muttered, trailing after us as she and I hurried back into the hall. “OfcourseI’d rather just ignore them.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Making our way through a hive of activity, we found the rest of the household in the entrance hall, waiting to greet the new arrivals, who were climbing down from their carriage in the driveway.

Max and Izzy strolled through the door, arm in arm. Izzy’s smile was broad as her gaze landed on Oliver.

“Oliver!” she exclaimed, extracting herself from Max’s arm and kissing Oliver soundly on the cheek. Oliver withstood this with a stoic expression. However, I heard Mrs Lavigne’s breath catch beside me, startled by the familiarity.

“Lockhart, my old friend,” Max boomed, taking his own turn pumping Oliver’s hand up and down with an enthusiasm that had Oliver wincing. Max’s smile only widened as Oliver glowered at him.

“It’s so kind of you to invite us to stay,” said Izzy.

“Not at all,” Oliver replied stiffly. “May I present my fiancée, Miss Bloom, and her godmother, Mrs Finch?”

Izzy and Max exchanged polite if distant greetings with us, though I saw Izzy’s eyes sparkling beneath her hat as we shook hands.

“And this is my sister, Helene,” Oliver said. “And her adoptive parents, the Lavignes.”

“Your Grace,” Mrs Lavigne said breathlessly, dropping into an obsequious curtsey, head bent so that her nose practically skimmed the floor. For a moment Izzy looked slightly taken aback, but I saw Max’s hand settle in the small of her back – a tiny gesture of reassurance – and then her chin lifted.

“Mrs Lavigne,” she said in her most dignified voice, and I had to hide a smile. Max, of course, needed no such support. Suddenly I saw why he had the reputation he did among the ton. He seemed taller, straighter; his face was set in firm, uncompromising lines as he acknowledged the Lavignes with a chilly formality that bordered on rude.

Far from looking put out by this cool reaction, the Lavignes seemed even more delighted. I understood at that moment precisely why Izzy and Max were behaving as they were – the Lavignes were more convinced of the duke and duchess’s consequence than ever by this frigid greeting, and their contrasting warmth towards Oliver only underpinned the closeness Mrs Finch had hinted at. Mrs Lavigne in particular was starry-eyed, and I wondered if Mrs Finch was right, if this unsettling presence may knock the woman off-balance.

Helene, on the other hand, withstood the arrival of the Duke and Duchess of Roxton as if two ogres had waltzed into the house, determined to crunch on her bones.

“Y-your Grace,” she managed, and for a moment it was hard to tell if she was curtseying or swooning away.

“Right, well, that’s done then,” Oliver snapped, clearly impatient to get on with things. “Why don’t I show you to your rooms? We have several hours before the guests will start to arrive and you will want to rest.”

“Oh, yes,” Izzy said, “and I hope Miss Bloom will join us. I am so excited to hear all about your engagement.”

“Of course,” I murmured, and the four of us made our way to the stairs, while Barker and several of the new, pleasantly muscular footmen began bringing in the Roxton’s luggage, of which there seemed to be plenty. Mrs Lavigne hovered anxiously over the scene, directing everyone with that grating sense of authority that I couldn’t like.

Izzy kept up a stream of inane chatter until we were well out of earshot of the Lavignes.

“How have you been?” she asked in a low voice, squeezing my hand.

“Fine,” I said. “Though it feels like we’ve made little progress.”

“Perhaps we can help with that,” Izzy replied.

“Here we go,” Oliver said without ceremony as we approached a door just down the corridor from mine and Mrs Finch’s rooms.

He turned the handle, and as we all piled inside I let out a small sound of surprise, because Mrs Finch was standing in the middle of the room.

“Wejustleft you downstairs!” I exclaimed. “How on earth did you do that?”

Mrs Finch only smiled. “I have my ways.” Her attention turned at once to Max and Izzy. “So?” Her eyebrow arched and she dropped into the chair in front of the dressing table. “What news?”

“Plenty.” Izzy stripped off her gloves, striding across the room towards the bed where she laid them down before setting to work unpinning her hat. “First of all, Maud and Winnie paid a visit to Dr Wright on Harley Street.”

“The doctor the Lavignes consulted?” Oliver asked, leaning against the door frame.

Izzy nodded. “They posed as medical students and went to interview him for an article on brain injuries.” A smile pulled at her lips. “Maud said that Win got a bit carried away and they ended up staying for three hours. According to them, his practice is legitimate, and from what we could discover, it is perfectly possible for a patient’s memories to return after a period of several years or following another injury. Winnie had done significant research on the subject, and her discussion with the doctor apparently got quite …technical. Unfortunately” – here Izzy winced – “in layman’s terms, it all seems to boil down to the fact that the human brain is deeply mysterious and there is much we don’t know.”

“So presumably a great many things are possible, though not necessarily likely,” I surmised.