The Earl's Inconvenient Wife. Julia Justiss
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invitations begin to come in.’
‘With Mr Newell present, as well? I imagine he has duties in Parliament, and we will want to make sure the entertainments we attend will not conflict.’
‘Why would they?’ Temper asked. ‘Surely with you on hand to provide protection and assistance, Mr Newell’s part is finished—and I sincerely thank him for his efforts!’
‘Unless I’m mistaken, it’s not at all finished,’ Mrs Moorsby said. ‘I may be your chaperon, but the Countess believes that Mr Newell should act as a sort of...guardian. Don’t you, Aunt Lilly?’
The Countess nodded. ‘You must admit, Miss Lattimar, that if some...unscrupulous man tried to take advantage, a female chaperon would be of limited assistance. Having everyone know there’s a gentleman nearby, watching over you, will ensure that no blackguard makes such an attempt.’
‘And while standing guard, Mr Newell shall have a chance to review the field of prospective brides,’ Mrs Moorsby added.
‘But wouldn’t his being in my company compromise his reputation—limiting his chances of meeting eligible young ladies? For their mamas will surely want them to avoid me,’ Temper countered.
Lady Sayleford waved a dismissive hand. ‘If he were seen as a suitor, perhaps. But as my godson, delegated to look after the young lady I’m sponsoring, society should expect him to be in your company.’
Her chaperon’s bright smile indicating how entirely unaware she was of the consternation this alteration in plan had just evoked, Mrs Moorsby stood up. ‘I will leave you now to take my rest, but I understand we are to do some shopping later, Miss Lattimar. I shall look forward to it! A pleasure to meet you both.’ After dipping them a curtsy, she walked from the room.
‘Lady Sayleford, you cannot mean for Giff—Mr Newell to...to dance attendance on me at every social event I attend!’ Temperance cried as soon as her chaperon exited. ‘I would never have consented for him to consult you had I any notion you might require such a thing! You must release him from that obligation, or I shall—’
‘What?’ Lady Sayleford interrupted. ‘Cancel your Season? Kick about the house in Brook Street for another year, or go bury yourself in the country at Entremer? Or do you think making a second attempt to convince your father to fund you will have better success than the first?’
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