answer, Randolph noted.
“So, that’s settled,” said the duke. “Nothing much to it after all.”
Not being musical himself, his father had no idea, Randolph thought.
Five
With the duchess’s aid, Randolph discovered that Miss Sinclair and her mother were staying near Cavendish Square. He sent a note ahead rather than simply turning up on their doorstep. Thus, when he arrived the following day, he was admitted at once by an unexpectedly stately butler. He found the ladies sitting alone in a pretty drawing room upstairs. They rose to greet him, but Mrs. Sinclair sank back onto the sofa as soon as her daughter had made the introductions. “I never dreamt of anything like this when I agreed to come to London,” she said. “Of course I had no idea that Verity would make a spectacle of herself.”
“Mama! I have done no such thing.”
It sounded like a much-repeated exchange. Taking in Miss Sinclair’s pained expression, Randolph was certain it was.
“The Prince Regent!” continued the older woman. “My husband does not approve of his…way of life. Mr. Sinclair is dean of Chester Cathedral, you know, and very conscious of his responsibilities.”
Randolph sat down beside the older woman. Thin and wren-like, she didn’t much resemble her daughter. He debated whether to encourage her doubts or try to assuage them. But a period of reflection had convinced him that refusing the prince’s request would be far more troublesome than acceding to it. The Regent went to great lengths to satisfy his whims. “I believe you are overly concerned, ma’am. The prince is proposing a private party, with a select guest list.”
“But his reputation is so very bad!” argued Mrs. Sinclair. “I am sad to say that about a member of our royal family. But the tales one hears!” Glancing at her daughter, she bit off a word.
“There’s none of that at his ton parties,” Randolph replied, mostly truthfully. He had an inspiration. “And certainly not with his mother present.”
Mrs. Sinclair turned to look at him. “The queen will be there?”
“You admire her,” murmured Miss Sinclair.
Randolph was sure, from the tone of the prince’s letter, that he could make this a condition. His father was well acquainted with the prince and could add his voice as well. “It will be no different than entertaining guests at your own home,” he added.
Mrs. Sinclair looked doubtful. “Our small circle in Chester can scarcely be compared. Who knows whom the prince might invite? Quite unsuitable people.”
“They’ll be on their best behavior. Perhaps you’d care to join my mother’s party for the evening?”
“The Duchess of Langford,” murmured Miss Sinclair.
“I don’t know.”
“Did I mention that Lord Randolph is a clergyman?” said Miss Sinclair. She was becoming positively antiphonal.
“Really?” Her mother perked up.
“He has a parish up North. Somewhere.”
Here was a change, Randolph thought. Suddenly the girl appreciated a country clergyman? And had she been inquiring about him? “In Derbyshire, actually,” he said. “I have a new post beginning in the summer. Quite a pleasant town, not the least bit countrified.” He had the satisfaction of seeing Miss Sinclair look self-conscious.
Her mother fixed her pale-blue eyes on him. “As a man of the cloth, you are not concerned about performing at Carleton House?”
“As a favor for the prince, no. I wouldn’t make a habit of it, of course.”
“Well—”
Randolph knew not to push. He’d had years of dealing with recalcitrant committees and quarreling parishioners.
“I suppose we can’t refuse royalty,” said the older woman with a sigh. “Perhaps you might write to my husband, Lord Randolph? You set forth the arguments very well.”
Randolph hesitated, wondering if the dean had heard about the incident with the Archbishop of Canterbury. It was more than likely that he had. Naturally, there’d been gossip among the clergy. Nor was Randolph eager to become further embroiled with Miss Sinclair’s family. “I’m not acquainted with the dean,” he pointed out.
“Oh, I shall enclose your letter in one of my own,” said Mrs. Sinclair.
She gazed at him expectantly. Randolph gave in with a nod.
“And perhaps you will reply to the prince for us, and make all the arrangements.”
She said it as if it was a foregone conclusion, giving Randolph some insight into the workings of the Sinclair household. Her daughter did not look pleased, but made no objection. He nodded again.
A maid came in with a tray. “There you are at last,” said Mrs. Sinclair. When the girl had set down the tray and gone, Verity’s mother added, “We’ve hired only part of this house, you know, with use of the landlady’s servants.