been forced to wear a codpiece. One which, though I tried not to look, was fashioned of embossed leather.
However, for all the ridiculousness of the ensemble, and the embarrassment Lord Henry must feel wearing it, he certainly didn’t show to disadvantage. Many of the female guests were far less polite than me, openly ogling his muscular stature. Fool though he might have been cast to be, I suspected any number of the ladies would have been interested in receiving his attentions.
One glance at Lord Edward told me he’d anticipated this very thing, sending his fool off time and time again to perform one gallant, if inane, act after another for one of the ladies present. Though I was quite certain he was enjoying his younger brother’s discomfiture, I also wondered if he had nobler motives for his edicts. For not ten months before, Lord Henry had lost the woman he loved, and in the time since, I had heard numerous murmurings about his morose seclusion and refusal of female companionship. Perhaps this was Lord Edward’s way of prodding him out of his glum isolation.
In any case, Lord Henry did not scowl all night. As the evening wore on, there were moments when I was quite certain his beaming smile and open-mouthed laughter were genuine. As was the merriment of most of those in attendance.
The evening advanced steadily toward midnight and beyond, and yet the delectable food overflowing from the table in the dining room continued to be replaced and the decanters and carafes of wine, ratafia, and whisky continued to flow. So much so that nearly every nobleman with a Scots accent to hide saw his carefully cultivated voice stripped of pretension. I danced a reel with one lord who hailed from just west of Glasgow whose accent had become so thick I could not understand more than one in five of the words he spoke.
At one point, the festivities paused so that we could troop down to the landing which overlooked the guard room below to listen to a group of wassailers who had either hiked or been driven up to the castle in wagons from the village. Their singing earned them applause, as well as the generosity of some of the guests, who added their own coins to the traditional boon of pennies being distributed by the staff along with cups of mulled cider and pieces of cake.
Afterward, the dancing and drinking resumed, as did a number of parlor games and even an amateur theatrical. The play was far from inspiring. In fact, the entire production seemed to be centered on the premise of a lord accused of exposing himself quite shockingly to females along the route he traveled. At the end, the audience was finally let in on the reason for the excessive amount of jokes about cocks when the lord opened his greatcoat to the spectators to reveal a peacock costume beneath. It was dreadful, but everyone laughed nonetheless, mostly because they were too foxed to do otherwise.
Given my current state, and the fact that any falls at this stage could be dangerous to the child, I’d elected to limit my indulgence in spirits. This also meant I was one of the only people present who was in full possession of their faculties. Even Gage was a trifle disguised, though out of consideration to me, he was not as top heavy as he might have been.
As the night wore on, the merriment and bonhomie among the guests began to show signs of strain. This was not surprising. Parties fueled by copious amounts of whisky, wine, and frivolity often had the tendency to unravel. Especially when those who might be better served by withdrawing continued to remain.
The duchess’s family was no exception. What tensions had been adroitly masked earlier in the evening began to show. The duchess appeared to be biting back her most strident thoughts even in her role as a shrew, and Lord John continued to cast glares at his sister, who spent much of the evening close to Marsdale’s side.
If it was because Marsdale played the villain for the evening, I didn’t know why Lord John didn’t simply apprehend him, as it was his task to do. But I began to suspect it was something else. Something to do with the closeness that was evident between Lady Helmswick and Marsdale. A closeness I imagined Lord Helmswick would not approve of.
Or perhaps he wouldn’t care. After all, the Duke of Bowmont was clearly unruffled by