Petteril's Thief by Mary Lancaster

Author:Mary Lancaster [Lancaster, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mary Lancaster
Published: 2023-09-05T06:00:00+00:00

During the afternoon, after another enlightening visit to Mr. Pepper the solicitor, Piers sustained a visit from Aunt Hortensia, with Gussie in tow.

“We are making calls and cannot stay,” Hortensia said as he joined them in the drawing room. Hortensia was gazing around the room with some resentment, whether because it was no longer hers or because it was clean and well arranged by his new staff, he could not tell.

“Then I cannot interest you in tea?” Piers offered.

Aunt Hortensia shuddered. “Thank you, no. I have no idea what staff you have installed here, or what skills they have. Bertie says you have a street urchin as your groom!”

“Oh, the grooms don’t make the tea,” Piers said.

“You are being obtuse!”

“Not I, Aunt,” he said delicately, and before she could do more than suspect the insult turned back on herself, he said, “Then how might I help you?”

“Don’t be silly, Piers. We came to invite you to dine with us tonight.”

“Thank you. I regret I am engaged this evening.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “With what?”

“The entire opera company from Covent Garden, dropping over for a bacchanal.”

Aunt Hortensia’s face flushed unbecomingly. “Are you trying to be amusing, Piers?”

“No, I am trying to point out, in a light-hearted way, that it is absolutely none of your business.”

Aunt Hortensia’s mouth fell open. Beside her, even Gussie’s laughing face had acquired a look of astonished unease. Hortensia tried to glare him down, but he held her gaze, faintly smiling, until Gussie rushed into speech.

“Actually, he is right, Mama. What about tomorrow evening, Cousin? Or are you promised to the Haymarket Theatre company?”

“Tomorrow, I shall be delighted to dine.”

Aunt Hortensia nodded curtly and sailed out of the room. Piers chose to walk downstairs with them, so that as Gussie walked blithely out and over to the waiting carriage, he could detain her mother in private.

“A moment, aunt,” he said on the step. “How serious are you about encouraging Henry Devon to offer for Gussie?”

“That,” she snapped, “is absolutely none of your business.”

“Actually, it is. I am her guardian, and the question stands.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Piers, what do you know of the world? It would be a fine feather in Augusta’s cap, securing such a fine match in her first season and you would be unkind to deny her it just to be perverse!”

“Do you know anything about his circumstances? His family?”

“I know both intimately,” she said grandly. “His mother is my closest friend.”

“I see,” Piers said. There was no point in suggesting she chaperone Gussie more closely or send a maid or footman with her when she went out with Devon. As a matter of course, she discounted everything he said.

He watched them go, then asked the footman for his hat and walked round to the Gadsby house in Mount Street.

Maria was at home, but entertaining morning callers. Fortunately, for purposes of quick recognition, she rose to welcome him, looking somewhat flummoxed to see him, but welcoming enough. She presented several people he knew

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