Talk of the Town by Joan Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

toe into the door of Society.”
    “Yes, but what if they put Larry into their book? The whole town will read how he made a fool of himself over her.”
    Richard felt this was the lesser of the two evils to be mentioned. There was something degrading about having one’s physical imperfections paraded in shameful print. “I’ll send Willoughby over,” he said.
    “No, I must conciliate them. I know you don’t like it, Richard, but I shall handle it discreetly. I’ll have a small tea party, invite no one who matters. I must silence her.”
    “They won’t be fobbed off with any little token do of that sort. Don’t do anything for the present. Let them simmer a while. The book is spoken of as not coming out for a year. Larry will have his appointment before that without our having to deal with them at all.”
    “All the worse, to have it come out after he is famous—to have his moment of glory sullied so disgracefully! I won’t stand for it, I tell you. I’ll ask her here first—to my ball—I ask everyone to that. She won’t be noticed in the crowd.”
    “They are pointed out when they drive down Bond Street and in the Park. Everyone knows them by sight now. They are becoming the talk of the town.”
    “What is to be done?” Bess wailed in frustration.
    “Do nothing. I’ll handle it, as I have always managed your problems in the past. Let me think about it. We must have a plan. I’ll talk to some people—see how they are handling her.”
    “Very well, I’ll wait awhile, but I don’t mean to let it hang fire for long. My nerves can’t take it.”
    St. Felix posed a few discreet questions, ostensibly on behalf of a “friend,” and learned that the manner of dealing with Mrs. Pealing was to do exactly as she wished. He had never seen Mrs. Pealing; his quarrel was with Miss Ingleside, and he had no intention of letting her win this fall with him. But he soon became aware that she won every match she entered. Not only was she—and of course, that disreputable aunt—lining her purse, but she was beginning to go about to the odd party, as well. The girl was not making her debut, so at least one would not meet her at formal do’s. Soon even this shred of relief was snatched from him.
    When the list of the young debutantes to be presented to the Queen was printed in the Gazette, Miss Ingleside’s name was amongst them. The debts had been coming in in such a heady stream that even this was to be afforded. It was not Mrs. Pealing, a divorcee, who was to be her official sponsor, but a Mrs. Wintlock. Now who the devil is Mrs. Wintlock, he wondered.
    She was not only a friend of the Inglesides from Wiltshire, but a distant connection of Sir James on her husband’s side, and she knew them to be a very good family. Her daughter, Stephanie, a good-natured and not overly pretty girl, had attended the same ladies’ seminary as Daphne and the two were friends. Having come to London to present her own youngest, she had been delighted to meet Daphne on Bond Street and took for granted she, too, was to make her bows. When she discovered her error, she set up a string of letters to Ingleside Manor that once again threw the house into an uproar.
    “What do you think of it, James?” Lady Mary demanded, her own smile displaying clearly what she thought of it.
    “It’s a lot of nonsense and will cost me a bundle.”
    “It will save sending her back next year,” Lady Mary said, thus introducing a whole new concept to the household, for it had never been mentioned that Daphne should make her bows in London.
    “Once she sees Stephanie Wintlock there, attending all the do’s and snapping up a great parti , you may be sure she will fix her face to go back to London. And why should she not? Her father could well afford it.”
    “Her father has better things to do with his blunt. Tiling the east forty, for instance.”
    “Pooh! What is more important to you, your own flesh and blood or a few acres of mud?”
    “The