me! I’m going to fight him, and I’m not going to rest for a moment until I see his pretty hide turned off from the gallows outside Newgate prison.”
“Mon Dieu! Such enthusiasm, Simons,” St. Clair remarked, shaking his head. “I commend you for your determination to bring the crusading scoundrel to justice. However, what is much more to the point than your swaggering braggadocio—did you say his ‘pretty’ hide? That would mean you have seen him, wouldn’t it? Dear man, if for just a moment—indulge the ladies. How does he appear, this Peacock person? Is he all they say?”
“How should I know?” Symington asked, breathing heavily now as the two footmen returned and, at Lord Undercliff’s easily interpreted gesture, placed themselves on either side of the mill owner. “He was waiting for me inside my coach just as I came from m’dinner, sitting in the corner smoking a cheroot and hiding his face in the dark. Couldn’t see him worth a damn except to know he’s most likely tall, like you, and he speaks like a gentleman. Then he took off with my brand-new coach and left me to walk three miles back to Little Pillington,” he ended, seemingly close to tears.
“He did? Why, I do believe I must begin to admire this Peacock fellow. Obviously he saw your crying need for exercise, Simons.” St. Clair’s high-pitched, musical laugh was the signal for everyone to indulge their own amusement even as the footmen firmly took hold of Symington’s arms at each elbow and all but dragged him into a small anteroom at the head of the stairs, Lord Undercliff hastening after with nary a backward glance for his guests.
“And that, good friends, concludes this evening’s farce, I believe. Come, my dear ladies,” St. Clair said after a moment, holding out his crooked arms so that both Miss Laurence and Lady Ariana might avail themselves of his escort as he led them back to the alcove where their chaperones waited.
“What now, Christian?” Lady Ariana inquired, honestly intrigued as to what he would do next.
“What now? Why, first, I believe Lord Undercliff is to be commended for his originality,” he commented loudly, “don’t you? This has been quite the most stimulating entertainment any host has offered this Season. Yes, yes, I must remember in the morning to join his lordship’s other guests in sending round my compliments.”
“You may have been amused, but I think the entire episode was distasteful in the extreme,” Lady Ariana said feelingly, knowing now for certain that Lord Undercliff would be safe from social disaster, thanks to St. Clair. “In fact, Christian, much as it pains me to agree with that crude man, the best thing that could happen is for that absurd Peacock and his band of marauding brigands to be captured and dealt with as rapidly as possible. Did you hear those silly women? They seem to believe the man is to be admired, when everyone knows he is little more than a thief, a ruffian. You’d think they didn’t know the price of goods will rise twice for every penny the mill owners are forced to raise wages. Why, Papa says—”
“Ah, dearest child, you aren’t about to tell me what your papa says again, are you?” St. Clair interrupted wearily. “The man,” he explained, looking at Gabrielle, “like our suspicious home secretary, Lord Sidmouth, sees insurrection lurking around every corner.”
“But it’s true, Christian,” Lady Ariana persisted, sure she could show up the country miss with her knowledge of government. “The Peacock is inciting the populace to illegal acts. Why, he’s even worse than that odious Orator Hunt, telling the common people that they deserve better. Why? We are all suffering now that the war is over. It isn’t only the ungrateful peasantry that has had to live with deprivation, but to have to maintain iron gates on our townhouses in order to keep the rioting rabble away is preposterous. Or do you wish to see a copy of the late French Revolution brought to our own doors?”
“Tiens! Why would I care a snap about such farfetched nonsense? What I do wish, dear girl, is for you to desist in being such a staunch little Tory and remember that bluestockings tend to frighten off suitors, most especially dukes. Or do you believe I shall be amused to champion you when you are in your fifth Season, long in the tooth and still prosing on and on about insurrection?”
“If you’re still powerful enough five years hence to wield any influence at all over Society,” Miss Laurence piped up, causing Lady Ariana to draw in her breath in surprise at the girl’s daring in defending her. “I would say the Peacock has already begun to make inroads on your consequence. After all, breathlessly awaiting your entrance in order to admire the cut of your latest new coat barely compares with hearing of the daring exploits of the Peacock. Are you jealous, St. Clair?”
“Hardly, Miss Laurence,” St. Clair replied with a smile, so that Lady Ariana longed to box his ears. Didn’t the man know when he was being insulted? Then he went on, renewing Lady Ariana’s faith in him: “But you must tell me, my dear: Are you to be numbered in the growing multitude of eager ladies wishful of having the Peacock kidnap you as he did Mr. Symington, not to punish you, but to whisk you away for a night of unbridled passion?”
His words were a slap in Gabrielle Laurence’s face, reducing her to a witless child who not only couldn’t see the danger in the Peacock’s provoking exploits but also one who was so infantile as to indulge in romantic musings about the man. Lady Ariana found herself almost feeling sorry for the senseless chit who had thought she might get the better of St. Clair.
Except that Gabrielle did not seem to take offense at St. Clair’s words. “You’re nearly correct, my lord,” she answered as she moved away from him and toward Lord Buxley, who had reappeared in the ballroom and was even now heading in her direction. “I am quite taken with the Peacock. It would, after all, be such a social coup to be the one who unmasks him. Oh, and by the bye, St. Clair, I believe I should point out that you slipped just now and referred to Lord Undercliff’s uninvited guest by his correct name, proving that even you have not been unaffected by the Peacock. Either that, or you are not as witless as you would have us all suppose. Interesting thought, isn’t it?”
St. Clair stuck his quizzing glass to his eye as he watched her go. “Odds fish, Ariana, I begin to believe I have petted our little country kitten just so she could hiss and scratch at me. I vow there is no gratitude left in this world. No gratitude at all, although I imagine Undercliff will be trailing after me soon, wearying me with his thanks. Ah, the tribulations of social consequence. Sometimes, dear lady, I question whether the prize is truly worth the trouble.”
“Anything is worth it to people like us, Christian, as social consequence remains the be-all and end-all of our existence,” Lady Ariana said quietly, watching Miss Laurence and Lord Buxley move off toward the supper rooms, mentally restructuring her earlier opinion of the young lady and wondering if it would not be possible to become friends with her, if just to bedevil St. Clair, who seemed to derive great pleasure from setting the two beauties at each other’s throats.
CHAPTER THREE
Men are but children of a larger growth.
John Dryden
THE SMALL PRIVATE STUDY situated on the second floor and to the rear of the St. Clair mansion in Hanover Square was crowded with long-legged men slouched at their ease in burgundy leather chairs ringing the blazing fireplace, their discarded jackets draped behind their heads, cravats hanging loose, snowy white shirts undone at the neck, their hands gripping glasses of warmed brandy, for the April day had gone damp and chilly.
Lord Osmond Osgood, who had stayed so long at the Undercliff Ball card tables the previous evening that his usually indifferent luck at gaming had finally turned in his favor sometime just before dawn, stretched and yawned widely as he languidly waved away Sir Gladwin Penley’s offer of a cheroot.
“Haven’t the energy,
