Free The Frog Earl by Carola Dunn Page B

was without doubt a vast improvement over Albert Pell and Sir Wilfred Marbury.
    Stolen beaux or no, she thought as she set another neat stitch in Ferdie's shirt, Mimi was the best friend anyone could ask for.
    * * * *
     Mere House glowed pinkly in the sunset. Riding homeward, Simon repeated to himself the old saw: “Red sky at night, sailors' delight.” Or was it “shepherds' delight”? No matter; with any luck it meant a fine day tomorrow.
    He left Intrepid in the stables and went into the house. As he emerged from the back passage into the entrance hall, he heard Gerald's drawling voice.
    “Oh no, I mean to stay with you until the end of the Season, Aunt Georgina. I have blotted my copybook in town, you see, and don't wish to face Mama's recriminations at Crossfields.”
    “Blotted your copybook, dear boy?” Lady Thompson's violet satin appeared in the drawing-room doorway, her head turned to address her nephew in the room beyond. “You must tell me all about it after dinner. You are not one to set tongues wagging, not like Ced... Oh, Simon! Your cousin is come.”
    “So I hear, Aunt.”
    “I daresay the pair of you have plenty to say to each other, but don't be late for dinner. I'm going up to change.”
    “We won't keep you from your meal,” he promised, and went into the drawing room. In view of Baird's known propensity for eavesdropping, he closed it behind him. “Blotted your copybook, Gerald? I don't believe it.”
    “All in your service, old fellow. Good gad! What are you wearing?”
    “I told you I wasn't bringing my new clothes. In my service? What do you mean?”
    “I've avenged you, coz.” Gerald dropped into a chair and lounged back, enjoying Simon's puzzlement. “I daresay you've forgot the ravishing Lady Elizabeth—the Incomparable, some call her?”
    “I remember,” said Simon grimly.
    “The more fool you. Lady Elizabeth, having inexplicably lost the marquis's heir without a word of farewell, openly and publicly restored the handsome young viscount to her favor. Said viscount was permitted, nay, encouraged to kiss my lady in an alcove at Almack's. To cut a short story shorter, the fair Lizzie, blushing rosily, thereupon informed me that her noble papa would be at home in the morning and would undoubtedly welcome a visit. She then proceeded to blush and whisper her way around the ballroom. Alas, for all I know Lord Prestwitton is waiting still.”
    “You cut and ran when she was expecting an offer?”
    “I did.”
    Simon was awed. “No wonder you don't want to face the ton, nor Aunt Cecilia. What can I say? You...”
    “Spare me your thanks, old fellow. It was a novel experience, giving the biddies something to tattle about, and one should never allow oneself to become stuck in a rut, to use a distressingly rural idiom. Tell me, how do your lessons go with friend Wickham?”
    “Devil take it, Gerald, the man's got me studying bookkeeping!”
    “Very necessary. What have you learned?”
    “That the Mere House estate could make a lot more money if the rents were not ridiculously low, and that Aunt Georgina is slightly threadbare because she refuses to raise the rents. But it's your estate.”
    “It's her home. The tenants all adore her, and they plow the profits she doesn't take back into the land. Wickham makes sure it's properly done. When eventually I take over from our lady aunt—and may it be in the far distant future—this will be one of the best-kept estates in the country.”
    “Well, I see why you leave Wickham here rather than taking him off to Crossfields, but I hate to see the violet satin reappearing time and time again.”
    Gerald shuddered. “Devilish, is it not? I keep my gaze averted.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “Possibly your untutored eye is unable to detect that there are, in fact, a number of different violet satin gowns. I know what you mean, though. You think I should insist on higher rents or make my aunt an allowance.”
    “It's none of my