A Banbury Tale Read Online Free Page B

heedless young bloods went in search of pleasure and awoke to find their breeches stolen, to fashionable Cavendish Square, where she made her home. She’d visited the putrid courts of Holborn and Whitechapel, and had dared to venture into St. Giles, a notorious haven for roughs and thieves, an adventure from which she had emerged triumphantly unscathed.
    “It’s prodigious good of you,” commented this dauntless lady, who bore the deceptive appearance of a vague and kindly relict of advanced years, “to abandon your pursuits long enough to escort an old woman into the country.”
    The Earl smiled lazily. “You refer to my excesses, ma’am?” he inquired. “Tilda is more direct.” On the seat facing them, Agatha’s maid cowered in a corner, clutching her mistress’s jewel box to her thin chest and darting nervous, disapproving glances at Micah’s dissipated countenance.
    “I think I know you a little too well to stand upon ceremony with you,” Agatha retorted. “Don’t fly into the boughs— I don’t care what you do, and I can’t imagine that Mathilda does either. Surely she didn’t ring a peal over you!”
    “On the contrary, she expressed a fervent desire to indulge in some excesses of her own.” The Earl still wore his deceptively sleepy smile. “She counts on your presence to make her exceedingly gay.”
    “You should have married her,” Agatha commented. For sheer audacity she was rivaled only by Brummel himself, and even that impudent gentleman had never dared inform his Regent that the English aristocracy was composed of social parasites with wastrel habits who had abdicated their responsibilities. “It would have been the making of the both of you.”
    “You forget”—Micah carefully removed a piece of nonexistent lint from his immaculate sleeve—“Tilda decided that we would not suit.”
    Any of the Earl’s numerous acquaintances would have recognized in his lordship’s demeanor definite signs of imminent storm, and would have conducted themselves accordingly. The Duchess, who was seldom inclined to pamper her godson, took note of this mounting wrath. “Quite right,” said she. “It’s none of my affair, and certainly not after so many years.” She heaved a great sigh. “She’ll marry the good Timothy now, I doubt not, which would be a most grievous thing.”
    “And what have you against Timothy?” Micah inquired with interest. “The man possesses not one vice.”
    “There is no question,” Agatha retorted, “that Timothy is a good, worthy man. Unfortunately, he is also a slow-top, and Mathilda would be heartily bored with him within a year.” Her expression was fierce. “Such a match would be abominable, particularly since Mathilda has been accustomed to life with a libertine.”
    The Earl smiled, perhaps recalling Tilda’s comments on a similar topic, but the maidservant squeaked with indignation at so blunt an observation. The Duchess scowled. “Tiresome creature!”
    “Dominic was a man of exotic preferences,” Micah admitted, “but he was not quite so villainous as you paint him. My sympathies lie entirely with Timothy, whose birth is as good as my own-—as you well know. But you concern yourself unduly: Tilda informs me she has no intention of marrying anyone.”
    “Twaddle!” Agatha snorted. “I cut my wisdoms before either of you were born. As for Dominic’s character, may I remind you of the uproar when Mathilda voiced her determination to wed him? Her brother could not prevent the match, since she was of age, but Dominic’s reputation was not of the best, though they were received everywhere. But I shall not speak ill of the dead.” She passed a moment in thought. “Mathilda isn’t yet at her last prayers, and still may form an eligible connection. What choice has she? It’s unthinkable that she should remain unwed, and Mathilda has sufficient wit to realize that, protest she ever so much.” The Duchess indulged in another brief silence, then