A Masquerade in the Moonlight(53)
Sir Peregrine sobered immediately. “He’s not happy, that much is certain. But you can see why he—none of us—wishes your name to be bandied about in the same breath as that upstart American’s. Besides, Donovan has been telling all who will listen that he is going to marry you. Did you ever hear of such cheek! No, no—you must listen to the people who have your best interests at heart. You must not see the American again.”
“Why do you see him, Perry?” Marguerite asked, her hands drawing into fists in her lap as she longed to hop out of the carriage, seek out Donovan, and crack his jaw. Marry her indeed. She knew he had plans for her, but they had nothing to do with marriage! “What is he doing in England in the first place? He certainly is no diplomat, even though that’s what he proclaims himself to be. Does it have anything to do with this talk of war between us and America I’ve heard whispered about these past weeks since coming to London?”
Sir Peregrine sat back once more, his eyes hooded. “He’s only one of President Madison’s many whining, impertinent diplomats, Marguerite, and a very minor one. But protocol dictates people like Arthur and Ralph and I meet with him.”
“And William?” Marguerite pursued doggedly, feeling she had stumbled into an area it might pay her to explore. “What has he to do with diplomacy?”
Sir Peregrine smiled at her indulgently, so she immediately knew they were back to their usual roles of tutor and willing pupil. “William? Why, nothing, my dear. He was at Gentleman Jackson’s with Ralph and Arthur, and the American bullied him into sparring, then milled him down with an illegal blow. Another man would call Donovan out, but William is too much the gentleman to do any such thing.”
“At least until his jaw is whole once more and he can speak,” Marguerite slipped in quietly, bristling to hear Donovan’s actions condemned as unfair, although she couldn’t understand why it bothered her. “But enough of Thomas Donovan, Perry. Mere mention of the man’s name fatigues me. I will not be seeing him again, I promise you. I would much rather speak with you about something that happened last night at the theater. Something rather disturbing, as a matter of fact. Can I rely upon you to be discreet?”
Totton lifted a hand to his throat, to adjust his highly starched cravat. “Need you ask, my dear? I am always flattered to be of service. Now, what is the problem?”
Marguerite had been holding her breath since she asked her question, forcing color into her cheeks. “I blush to mention it,” she said after a moment, nervously pulling at the satin strings holding her reticule shut. “I feel like such a silly goose, to have been taken in—but I believe my dear grandfather and I may have become the unwitting victims of an adventuress.”
“An adventuress?” Sir Peregrine’s long, thin nose began to quiver like a hound that has picked up a scent. “How so?”
“Well,” Marguerite began, searching in her reticule for a lace-edged handkerchief she used to dab at her dry eyes, “there is this young woman—a Miss Georgianna Rollins—who sent a note round to Portman Square the other day telling of her deceased mother’s deportment school friendship with my mother and begging that we meet.” She blew her nose delicately and replaced the handkerchief. “I vow Perry, she all but wrote that Mama had promised to bring her out if something should happen to her own mother. Of course, with Mama marrying so young, and confining herself almost entirely to Chertsey, it is possible the two women never even saw each other again.”
“I see,” Totton said, tapping one index finger against the tip of his pointed nose. “You should have applied to me at once, my dear. There’s no limit importuning chits will not surpass in their desire for entry into a world to which they can never belong. What did Sir Gilbert say? What did you do?”
Marguerite fluttered her hands helplessly. “Oh, Perry. You know Grandfather. The name Rollins was not familiar to him, but he didn’t give me so much as a single hint as to how to go on. He doesn’t wish to be bothered with such silliness, and I love him too dearly to badger him. So, thinking I was being quite brilliant, I invited Miss Rollins to join us last night at the theater. If she were an unexceptionable young woman, I would be free to encourage her further acquaintance, and if she was unacceptable, I would not have to see her again.”
“A prudent course of action,” Sir Peregrine agreed consideringly. “And this Miss Rollins proved to be unacceptable? I imagine so, else you wouldn’t be telling me any of this, now would you?”