enclosed a scrap of newspaper—some lurid scandal sheet judging by the headline Orgy at C. Place. The letter merely stated that Mrs. Emily Shelby was the widow of the Reverend Mr. Francis Shelby, a respected vicar who seemed to have lived an exemplary life before dying unexpectedly. His impecunious family had subsequently moved to the Cheshire village of Coggleton. And through the intervention of Shelby’s bishop, a family friend, his eldest daughter, Miss Lucy’s sister Deborah, had managed to get a place in the Princess of Wales’s household.
Which had most recently resided at Connaught Place in London. Frowning, Christopher picked up the scrap of newspaper. Orgy at C. Place.
Undaunted by the absence of either propriety or their royal mistress… Lady M.W., Lady J.L., Miss D.S., and Miss H.C. lurk in the midst of the night’s debauchery…
Oh, yes, the Shelbys had every reason to hide the presence of the eldest daughter from Letchworth, and Miss D. S. had every reason to be married quickly.
Letchworth was less likely to offer for Lucy if such a revelation reached him, and the Shelbys only just kept their heads above water. They were respectable by birth, but they would add nothing to the Letchworth estate or consequence. The tide would turn against Lucy.
And as for Deborah, surely the girl he had almost ridden down… The only possible way out for her was a respectable marriage.
Well, few people would have called Christopher respectable, but surely any port in a storm…
Fortunately, Christopher didn’t actually care whether or not she was guilty. Her calm countenance swam before his eyes, a brief spark of laughter catching at her mouth. Not exactly the face of a wanton, though it was true appearances could be deceptive.
*
Deborah slept a little later than normal, enjoying her long slumber in a familiar bed. The previous two nights had been more or less sleepless, one spent traveling, and the one before listening to the alarming revelry in the princess’s house.
Her sisters, with whom she shared the bedchamber, were not present when she woke. She found her family in the breakfast room, delighted by an invitation to tea at Coggleton House that afternoon. However, Lucy’s face fell as Deborah sat down to eat.
“You don’t like meeting new people,” Lucy reminded her.
“And I am quite happy to stay at home,” Deborah agreed. “If you find a time to tell Sir Edmund the truth.”
“I will try,” Lucy promised.
In the afternoon, the Letchworth carriage arrived to take Mrs. and Miss Shelby to tea at the House.
“Every attention!” Mrs. Shelby whispered to Deborah on her way out of the front door. “You see how they favor Lucy?”
“They do,” Deborah agreed.
“Actually,” Giles said thoughtfully as he closed the door behind them. “You are Miss Shelby. She is only Miss Lucy Shelby, so it was really you they invited.”
Deborah shrugged. “Well, we have never stood much by such etiquette. And we all know they meant Lucy.”
Giles scowled. “But it’s as if you are being…erased.”
“Well, maybe that is a good thing for now,” she said lightly. “Where are the others? I told Cook I would bring some things from the village.”
“They’re in the village with some other children. I’ll go and keep an eye on them if you like.”
Recognizing this as I want to go, too, but I need a more adult reason, Deborah smiled. “I would be grateful,” she said gravely.
Giles grinned and slouched off.
“Giles?” she called after him as a sudden thought struck her. He turned back expectantly. “Do none of you have any schooling anymore?” Miss Figgis, a retired governess who lived in the village, had used to give them lessons.
Giles shrugged. “No money,” he said.
This was not good, she reflected as she donned her pelisse and bonnet. They needed education to be equipped for the world, particularly Giles and Stephen, but Lizzie, too, would suffer.
She must begin at once to find a new position, though she doubted it would be enough to send the boys to school or even hire a governess. Her salary would be needed for the house.
Unless Lucy marries Sir Edmund. She felt guilty even thinking anything so venal. It was more important for Lucy to be happy, and she should not marry for money. Only, of course, she seemed to want this, and surely only part of it was a desire to be Lady Letchworth and live in a big house with lots of servants and go to London for the Season.
The thought occupied her mind as she walked into the village. She waved to