The Wicked Marquess Read Free Page B

especially the Infidel, Little Bony, the Fiend of the Bottomless Pit; conjectures about the King’s application to Parliament for relief from his debts, chiefly the nine thousand pounds he claimed he had spent on the education of the Prince of Wales; deliberations upon the fact that Mr. Pitt had come to grief over the subject of Catholic Emancipation — and much speculation about the presence of Sinbad himself in these overheated rooms. Sinbad spent more time with his man of business than with his cronies Alvanley and Fox. Due to his expressed interest in workhouses and reform, it was whispered he had Radical sympathies, leanings considerably less popular than before the French troubles had demonstrated what happened when the rabble was permitted to run wild. Since Sinbad was also one of the most eligible men in the kingdom, despite a rakish reputation that would render socially unacceptable a man of lesser breeding and wealth, these minor eccentricities were overlooked. His many assets included not only an enviable fortune and a venerable title, but also properties strewn hither and yon, and a lovely mistress whose feet were firmly planted on the road to sin.
    Benedict ignored the curious stares that followed him. His hostess had fallen very much under the Egyptian influence. Sphinx heads, winged lion supports and lotus leaves sprouted everywhere he looked. Wondering why his aunt had insisted he attend so tedious an event, Benedict disentangled himself from an idle conversation with a bejeweled grand dame .
    “My dear Baird,” drawled a voice behind him. “Have the fleshpots grown so dull that you are driven to join us here?”
    Benedict turned. Behind him stood a slender black-haired man exquisitely clad in a dark blue coat with aggressively cut shoulders, superbly tied neckcloth, white waistcoat, pantaloons of blue stockinet worn with striped stockings and strapped over varnished black shoes. “Pettigrew,” he said.
    The newcomer raised his quizzing glass, looked Benedict up and down. “You don’t appear used up by dissipation. Yet it must be that your excesses have addled your wits. Else I cannot fathom why you would attend so insipid an occasion as this.”
    Benedict could hardly take offense at his companion’s observation, since he had wondered much the same thing. “I might point out that you are also attending this insipid affair.”
    “So I am. I marvel at myself.” Mr. Pettigrew aimed his quizzing glass at the other guests. “Lady Sylvester pleaded with me to lend her my presence, you see.”
    Benedict did not doubt the truth of this somewhat malicious confidence. Percy Pettigrew wielded considerable influence among the ton , result of his ability to ferret out every secret, every intrigue. “I am delighted to see you,” Percy continued, as he lowered his glass. “By your mere arrival you have not only thrown all the young ladies into a romantic twitter but also inspired their mamas to palpitations, and only partly because of your well-known aversion to parson’s mousetrap. Someday you must tell me what it is like to have the vast majority of your female acquaintance panting to have you toss up their skirts. Has Lady Darby at last persuaded you to set up your nursery? Is that why you are here?  You must not hesitate to confide in me. I perfectly understand why Ceci would not serve the purpose. Even the fondest of cousins, which of course I am, must admit that Ceci and constancy have long been estranged.”
    Benedict chose to ignore these various provocations, including the slur upon the morals of his current mistress. “I have no inclination to set up my nursery. As my aunt well knows.”
    “Everybody knows it. Odds are being taken all the same. Half the world believes you will bow to responsibility and convention. The other half is convinced you will bid us all go and be damned. I linger on the fence myself, for I recall poor Elizabeth – but I must not bring up sad memories! May we expect