Free Rules of Engagement by Christina Dodd Page B

caught with my pants down, do you recall that famous incident at the duchess of Kent's dinner party in Kensington Palace—"
    "No!"
    Lord Reynard's teeth gleamed in a grin. "You always were sulky that you were actually at the palace that evening and still missed out that fabulous display. Where was it you were? With the other lads skulking about in the gardens?"
    Kerrich didn't want to talk about it, but better than anyone he knew how impossible it was to change the course of conversation once his grandfather had begun to reminisce, and especially about this. Over the years, his grandfather had recalled this incident repeatedly and enjoyed it every time. "Yes," Kerrich said. "We were in the garden, plotting to scare the girls."
    "Ah, yes." Lord Reynard nodded wisely. "Every young man's desire, to scare the girls."
    "At seventeen, anyway."
    Another shriek traveled through the air and trailed off in a high, suffering note. Kerrich and his grandfather exchanged glances.
    Raising his voice, Kerrich called, "Moulton, what was that?"
    Moulton appeared at the doorway. "My lords, it would seem Miss Beth objects to the act of bathing."
    "Is she fighting?" Kerrich asked.
    "I understand from the upstairs maids that Miss Lockhart is drenched as well."
    "Poor Miss Lockhart." Kerrich didn't bother to subdue his grin.
    "Poor Beth," Lord Reynard said. "She's going to keep you hopping."
    "Nonsense, a little water will do them both good."
    While he spoke, Moulton made a gesture to Kerrich that indicated success. Then he bowed and retreated.
    So the butler had sent someone to follow Lewis. Kerrich had done what he could to protect his cousin from arrest, but all the culprits needed to be found, and soon, for while the Mathewes Bank could temporarily bear the loss of revenue, the Bank of England took it ill that English pound notes had also been counterfeited, and more ill that it had been done on their special watermarked paper with their special, difficult-to-make ink. That meant someone had gone right into the bank and stolen the supplies. If the matter wasn't resolved soon, the business would be reported to the prime minister, Queen Victoria would undoubtedly find out, her money would be withdrawn and Kerrich still would have no guarantee Her Majesty wouldn't open him to ridicule before the whole of society.
    "What a night that was," Lord Reynard said.
    Recalled to the moment and confused, Kerrich asked, "What night?"
    Then Lord Reynard chortled like an evil fairy.
    "Oh. That night."
    "Old King William was there, under protest, of course, since he detested Her Grace of Kent."
    "Who doesn't?" Kerrich took a swallow of liquor. "Even Queen Victoria has little use for her mother these days."
    "Yes, indeed. Quite a scandal, that. Yet one can't blame our young sovereign. Her Grace was—is, I would wager— bitter, and with little real care for her daughter except as princess royal."
    "Mark my words, Prince Albert will bring about a reconciliation. Queen Victoria's consort is a very proper sort who expects certain behaviors from those about the royal family, and from Victoria herself." Kerrich tasted bitterness himself, and not just from the drink he sipped.
    "Albert's right. Days are long past when a monarch can do what he likes. For a girl to be so estranged from her mother looks bad. And let's be frank. Victoria's gender works against her. Women are always subject to megrims and fits." Lord Reynard set down his glass and folded his hands over his belly. "You can't depend on a woman. I wish Victoria a long reign, but I scarcely depend on it."
    Kerrich was more than willing to discuss Queen Victoria, her political situation, and any number of other fascinating topics, but not surprisingly Lord Reynard could not be distracted.
    "Yet who would have believed, on that night twelve years ago, that she would be queen, married and with child so soon?" Lord Reynard threw his head back and closed his eyes as if he could see the scene even now. "Do you