An Indecent Gambit

Chapter Ten: A Trifle Nuisanced

For a week, James was prevented from exposing his libertine side to Grace by the constant presence of Mrs Follet. His resistance was confined to lesser bad behaviour: dull conversation, garish waistcoats, and poor table manners. He bided his time and told himself that as soon as he had the chance to behave really badly, he would take it. The chance came: Mrs Partridge, an old friend of Mrs Redwood's, was hosting a musicale, complete with a professional opera singer hired from London. Mrs Redwood had been invited, but she had no ear for music. It seemed far better that James should go instead and take Emma and Grace with him. It would give Grace and James the opportunity to attend an event together at last and let the world know that they were courting, and Emma was enough of a chaperone at such a staid gathering in the house of such an old friend.

James laid his plans well in advance. For thirty minutes before he was to leave for the Follet's, he occupied himself with steadily drinking his way through half a flask of brandy. The drive to the Follet's, in his father's coach, was a precarious one, but he reached their house without accident and, by speaking very little as he waited with Mr Follet in the hall for the girls to come down, managed to hide his inebriation. Grace gave James a sharp, suspicious look as he unsteadily handed her into the coach but said nothing. On the drive to Mrs Partridge's house, James managed to sneak a few more swigs of brandy, and by the time they arrived the world was swaying pleasantly before his gaze. As they walked up the stairs to the house, James stumbled slightly and caught himself on Grace's arm.

"Have you been drinking, James?" Grace asked.

"I came prepared," James answered giddily. "Antidote against boredom."

"You shouldn't—" Grace cut herself short and shrugged. "The receiving line runs halfway down the stairs. Be careful."

James had not anticipated the effect of the brandy upon Mrs Partridge's spiralling staircase. He kept one arm pressed tightly through Grace's as they slowly mounted the stairs. At the end of the line, James reacquainted himself with Mrs Partridge, introduced Grace and Emma, and then took them into the salon. A piano was set up at one end of the room and Mrs Partridge's eldest daughter sat at it, playing a funeral dirge and singing along in a flat, nasal voice.

"And now you understand," James said giddily, "why I am drunk tonight."

Grace surprised him by laughing. "You might have warned us."

Emma scowled. "I knew there was something wrong when Mrs Redwood wouldn't chaperone us."

"If it gets any worse, I will begin a headache and James can take us home."

That would not do at all. This might be the only chance James had for weeks to be unattended with Grace. "We must wait," James said. "Emma looks hungry, and refreshments will be served at ten."

Emma looked hurt. "That is a great deal of implication from a man who can eat an entire cake in five minutes, Mr Redwood."

"It was your inference." James flagged down a footman with a tray of champagne and took a glass for each lady and another for himself. "Here, this will make the music better."

As he handed Grace the champagne, she stiffened. He followed her gaze. A morose young man dressed all in black stood apart from the crowds, head tilted to one side, eyes half-closed, as though listening deeply to the music. James frowned. He did not look like the sort of man worthy of catching Grace's attention.

Emma was looking now too. Her jaw dropped. "Is that Mr Benson?" she said.

Benson. The man Oliver had said Grace was in love with. James watched her keenly.