Page 55 of A Perfect Gentleman

“Ah, I see.”

“What’s wrong with his cousin Maurice?” Abby asked.

Lady Eugenia looked pained at the blunt question, but Tessa turned to Abby, happy to enumerate the man’s faults. “It would be easier to ask what is not wrong with him. If he isn’t complaining about his headaches, it’s his delicate stomach or his earache or one of a hundred other ailments.”

“Now, Mother, one can hardly blame the man for being ill,” James said mildly. Knowing how James felt about Maurice, Graeme suspected he made the protest solely to goad Aunt Tessa.

“But one can blame him for talking about it incessantly. The man’s a dead bore.”

“Really, Theresa,” the dowager countess said. “Must you speak so freely in public?”

“It’s hardly public.” Tessa lifted her brows. “We’re all family here. I quite consider Mrs. Ponsonby one of the family.” She directed one of her sparkling smiles at Lady Eugenia’s companion.

“Of course she is,” Lady Eugenia replied. “George was Reginald’s cousin, though I believe he was only a second cousin once removed.”

“I think Lady Eugenia was referring to me,” Abigail explained to Tessa, looking more amused than annoyed.

“Oh. Well, no use trying to hide the family skeletons,” Tessa told her cheerfully. “You’re bound to find out someday. Anyway, it isn’t as if Maurice is Graeme’s relative; he’s related to James on his father’s side. And he’s not really what I would call a skeleton exactly, not like that mad Lady Harlow who was married to Reginald’s great-uncle.”

“Ah. The tea,” Lady Eugenia said in a loud voice. “Why don’t you pour, Theresa?”

Tessa accepted the countess’s suggestion with good grace, and the next few minutes were occupied with the serving and partaking of tea and cakes.

“Montclair, no doubt you are planning to take Lady Abigail to Lydcombe Hall soon.” Lady Eugenia took up the reins of conversation again.

Abby lifted her brows and turned a quizzical gaze on Graeme. “Are you? How interesting.”

“Not that I know of,” Graeme said flatly and looked over at the dowager countess. “We haven’t discussed it, Grandmother.”

“Now is the best time to see the estate, when the gardens are so lovely,” his grandmother countered.

“Why would she want to go now?” Tessa asked. “The Season is still on.”

“I believe Lady Eugenia is thinking more of hiding away an inconvenient American relation than of the Season,” Abby told her.

James leaned his head toward Graeme, saying sotto voce, “I smell blood in the water. Perhaps you should introduce a new conversational gambit.”

“Grandmother . . .” Graeme jumped in before the dowager countess could marshal her forces and reply to Abigail. “I was thinking about that charity of Father’s.”

The subject had simply been the first thing in his head, but Graeme was pleased to see that it effectively diverted everyone. Lady Eugenia stared at him. Aunt Tessa looked puzzled. Even Abigail seemed nonplussed.

“What are you talking about?” Lady Eugenia said at last.

“Do you mean that fund for wounded soldiers?” Tessa asked.

“Yes. That’s the one. Do you remember it, Grandmother?”

“Of course I do. But why on earth are you thinking about that?”

“It seemed a worthwhile cause. I thought I might take it up myself. It would have pleased Father, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” Lady Eugenia agreed doubtfully.

“I didn’t know that was still in existence,” James offered.

“You know anything about it?” Graeme turned to his cousin, but James only shrugged.

“Nary a thing. It wasn’t something Sir Laurence was interested in.”