A Banbury Tale by Maggie MacKeever

Author:Maggie MacKeever [MacKeever, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1977-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

The Duchess was distracted. Tilda had failed to return to the house the previous evening, a matter that Agatha intended to keep from her numerous servants, and Agatha didn’t know what to make of this inexplicable behavior. She’d been startled to learn that her houseguest had departed Almack’s in the company of Lord Bechard, but had thought Tilda safe enough, for even Alastair was surely not so paper-skulled as to try and do her harm. Lady Tyrewhitte-Wilson had some very influential friends.

Agatha compressed her lips. Tilda was ripe for folly, as had been obvious; if Alastair involved her in a scandal, the Duchess would personally see that he suffered most unpleasantly for it. She supposed it was fortunate that Micah had departed for the Hall blissfully unaware of this latest development. Agatha was in no mood for a set-to with her godson. It seemed quite enough that she must worry about Tilda’s latest peccadillo, but it was not: her grandnephew had called at a ridiculously early hour to inform her that he sought permission to pay his addresses to Madeleine de Villiers. Agatha thought little of a courtship conducted in so cold-blooded a manner, and had sent the Marquess on his way with a few well-chosen comments concerning starched-up young gentlemen. If Lionel was to be successful in his courtship of the volatile Miss de Villiers, he could do worse than study the tactics employed by Micah. It was not to be expected that Lionel would accept this advice with equanimity, and he had left the house in a temper, with, Agatha trusted, a good deal to think about.

She snorted and inspected her second caller of the day. “You were right to come to me,” she said. “This is a diverting tale.”

Motley inclined her head. “I could think of no one else who might be able, and willing, to help.”

The Duchess frowned. “Hush now. I must think.”

Motley was only too willing to obey. Each moment that Clemence spent in Letty Jellicoe’s house was fraught with peril, not only for the actress but for her conspirators. “You’re no more a lady’s maid than I am,” Agatha announced abruptly. “What, then? A governess?” Motley nodded, her face wooden. Odd as it might seem, this deception might simply be a ploy of anxious parents. “Are you certain we have not met before?” the Duchess persevered. “You are damnably familiar, but I cannot recall the occasion.” She abruptly abandoned the inquisition. “Never mind.”

Motley stifled a sigh of relief, for though she had taken care to appear as nondescript as possible, pulling her hair into a severe coil and choosing a gown that made her appear sallow, she feared Agatha’s sharp eyes. She regretted having disturbed the Duchess at so unconventional an hour, but it was the only time her own absence would not be remarked. She had found her hostess still abed, scowling over a delightful adventure tale that certainly didn’t merit such a disapproving expression. To the consternation of various of her servants, Agatha had ordered Motley promptly escorted to her bedchamber.

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