“Well, I am not one to gossip, as you know, but I feel it my duty to enlighten you, as I would any young lady who might be tempted to — shall we say? — set her cap at the man.”
Warmth rose in Delia’s cheeks. The impertinence of the creature! She allowed her annoyance to show. “I am not hanging out for a husband,Miss Watkinson, whatever you may think.”
“Oh, come now, Miss Burloyne, don’t be coy. Every young lady must be desirous of securing her future. I myself, before I recognised how much more freedom I must enjoy by remaining single, had an eye to an eligible gentleman. But Piers Gaunt, I must tell you, cannot be so counted.”
This was too valuable to be set aside. Delia turned as the woman rose from her seat, adjusting her skirts. “Why so? I understood he’s an earl, or as good as.”
“Oh, dear me, nothing of the sort, dear Miss Burloyne.” Miss Watkinson held her hands over the basin for the attendant to pour water over them from the jug. “The matter was everywhere talked of, you must know.”
Gripped, Delia stared at the woman, whose attention held on washing her hands. “What do you mean, Miss Watkinson?”
“I am talking of Piers Gaunt’s attempt to accede to the earldom.” Miss Watkinson made use of the towel the attendant was holding out. “You see, he was not the heir.”
“Then who was?” As if she didn’t know!
“A cousin, I believe. An old scandal. I do not know the particulars, but it appears the boy was taken out of the country years ago.”
“Then if this Piers was not the heir —?”
“How could he try for the title? That is just my point, Miss Burloyne. Since there appeared to be no trace of the heir, Gaunt hoped he might be presumed dead, but the authorities in these matters would not have it so.”
Indignation roiled inside Delia, but she suppressed it, feigning only ordinary interest. “Upon what difficulty?”
Miss Watkinson came to the mirror, but she did not do more than glance at her reflection, turning to Delia with an unmistakeable guise of the avid gossip that dwelled within her. Her voice sank to a near whisper. “There is no proof of the heir’s demise. What if he were to return?”
What indeed? Delia pretended ignorance. “Well?”
Miss Watkinson’s head went up and she cast her eyes to heaven. “Is it not obvious? Imagine the scandal! The wrangles! Why, a wife would never know from one day to the next whether she had even a roof over her head, let alone losing all hope of any potential entitlement to become Lady Baunton. Such a risk, Miss Burloyne! That is why I felt it my duty to warn you.”
“My dear Miss Watkinson, I am scarcely in danger. I don’t even know the man.” She spoke at random. Anything to deflect attention from the reality of her own knowledge when exactly what the creature prophesied had come to pass.
“Yes, but you may meet him, Miss Burloyne, for he has been known to attend assemblies here, and the theatre too. And Piers Gaunt is an extremely handsome young man. It would not be wonderful if you were to favour him.”
Never in this world! Let him be as personable as he wished, Delia already loathed the man. Besides, her loyalties were fixed.
“I thank you for the warning, Miss Watkinson, and I shall be upon my guard. Should Mr Gaunt make an appearance, which of course is not certain.”
“Yet it is a fascinating tale, do you not think?”
“Oh, quite. Who is — or rather was — the true heir, do you know?”
Miss Watkinson shook her head so that the ribbons on her bonnet quivered. “I only wish I did. Beyond his having been the late Lord Baunton’s son, nothing is known about him at all.”
Oh, but she knew. A pity Miss Watkinson had no further information, though. She might have gleaned something useful. But that Piers was known in Weymouth was helpful, if alarming. What should stop him making a public appearance? And he knew her by sight, she must suppose, thanks to his henchmen. If he approached her, how should she behave? Pretend ignorance of the whole affair? He would not believe her. He likely supposed her to be wholly conversant with Giff’s history. She only wished she knew more.
“Are you ready, Miss Burloyne?”
Recalling her mission, Delia made haste to follow the stout form as Miss Watkinson exited the retiring room. She lost no time in putting her plan into action. “I must say, ma’am, I am far from satisfied about those wretches who watched us bathing the other day.”
Looking gratified, the woman broke at once into belligerent protest. “Heavens, yes, Miss Burloyne! I have a good mind to take Captain Rhoades to task.”
“I wish you would! What has he done, after all, to apprehend those men?”
“Just so. Nothing at all useful.”
“And he’s withdrawn his soldiers from the town, you must know.”
“I thought I had not seen them about. It will not do. I shall sit down and write him a note on the instant.”