light, somewhat forced laughter among the company.
“If your wife chooses not to submit, what are your options, gentlemen? Take away her pin money?”
“Would you beat her? Deny her food?” This from Jess.
He spoke without humor. Really, Beatrice thought, he was joking. Wasn’t he? But she could feel Lord Destry tense beside her.
“I’m sure the countess agrees with me when I suggest that we should save the theological discussion for Sunday,” Mr. Garrett said with a smile, as though he did not feel the tension in the room.
The countess stood up. “I do believe that we must have plumbed the depths of Frankenstein to have drifted so far off the subject.” She turned toward the piano. “Miss Wilson, will you play the closing piece? I trust that will leave us in a happier frame of mind.”
Miss Wilson made a false start, but then settled her mind and her focus on the music. As the servants entered with tea, she played a lively piece that invited everyone to forget the horrors of Dr. Frankenstein’s monster and enjoy the last of the lovely summer evening.
Chapter Sixteen
CECILIA ROSE TO find some tea, but Beatrice kept her seat, more puzzled than upset by the drama that had played out before them. It was more, much more than conflicting thoughts on Saint Paul’s call for wives to be submissive and husbands to love their wives. Lord Jess had introduced the subject of wives and the need for submission, Lord Crenshaw had been angry, and the marquis had been nervous.
One might call it gossip but Beatrice could not resist asking Lord Destry, “What upset you, my lord?”
The marquis had stood up, but he sat in his chair again, turning it so that he faced Beatrice more directly. He tapped his finger on his knee and finally answered her. “Jess deliberately tried to make someone angry and came very close to succeeding.”
“Mr. Garrett? He was not serious about beating one’s wife, was he?” Beatrice could hear the dismay in her voice. “I am sorry if I sound like a governess. I did ask.”
“Garrett beat his wife? Never. He worships the ground Olivia walks on.” Destry hesitated, something so rare in their short acquaintance that Beatrice was afraid for a moment. “Miss Brent, it is not a subject for genteel discussion.” He put his head back on his chair and closed his eyes briefly.
“Now you sound like my governess.” She laughed as she spoke.
Destry sat up straight. “If you are going to laugh at me then I will not try to be discreet and will instead shock you with the truth.”
“I would value the truth more than your attempts at delicacy, my lord.”
He leaned closer. “The truth is that Jess and Crenshaw hate each other.”
“But why? They are very different, I grant you that, but they also have so much in common. They are gentlemen. They both enjoy gaming to the extreme.” Beatrice paused. “It’s the gaming, isn’t it? They had some disagreement over a game of chance. Did Lord Crenshaw accuse Lord Jess of cheating?”
Destry’s laugh was full of irony and not much humor.
Beatrice nodded. “So that is the tawdry incident to which Papa referred.”
“No! No! One has never accused the other of cheating at a game of chance.” Destry shook his head. “You will have to ask Jess for the story. It is not mine to tell.”
“I should not ask Lord Crenshaw?”
“It might be interesting to ask both of them—not when they are together, mind you. But I do not think the baron will answer you, at least not as honestly as Jess would. And he may well be affronted by the question.”
Lord Destry stood up. “Now I need some tea, though I would prefer something stronger. If you will excuse me, Miss Brent.”
It was just short of rude of him to leave her alone, which proved to Beatrice how upset he was. She debated approaching Lord Jess directly but decided that there might be other ways of finding out what she wanted to know.
It was hard to believe that the Lord Crenshaw she knew was less than a gentleman, but she was already realizing that he was more controlling than she had once thought, and much less amiable. Lord Jess, on the other hand, was not just the man of good humor and easy spirits that he pretended to be. There was more to him. When Beatrice looked about for Cecilia, anxious to discuss her confusion, she realized that her sister was no longer among them.
“She