At that moment, Chuffy barged back through the door, followed by Nottle, who carried a tray laden with champagne glasses and a bottle. His lordship held two more bottles, one in each fist. “Here we are,” he bawled. “This party is so gloomy I expect to be measuring my poor nevvy for a grave, not a marriage bed!”
Vander headed over to his uncle, probably hoping to prop him up before he and the champagne smashed to the ground.
“He’s drowned in drink,” Lady Xenobia observed, not bothering to whisper.
Chuffy was the only person who’d demonstrated any kindness, so Mia felt she should defend him. She cleared her throat. “Sir Cuthbert seems to be making excellent sense to me.”
Lady Xenobia turned and looked down at her, as a queen might look at an errant chambermaid. “Only a fool finds a drunken man sensible,” she said.
“I wish you wouldn’t,” Mia said haltingly.
Her ladyship raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t?”
“There’s no need to be angry.”
That was a mistake. She knew it the moment that Lady Xenobia’s smile deepened rather than slipped, which was a most disconcerting skill. “I am watching a dear friend caught in the coils of a shamming woman waving a letter that she likely had made up in a back alley,” the lady said with ferocious, if quiet, eloquence. “We need not discuss the ethics of blackmail. But who’s to say that Vander’s father actually wrote that letter?”
“He did indeed write it.” Honesty compelled Mia to add, “although he was likely already mad. I am sorry for causing you distress.”
Lady Xenobia paused for a second, reached forward and put her hand over Mia’s. “Please don’t do this,” she whispered.
Vander was on his way back to them, but Lady Xenobia waved him away. Perversely, Mia felt as if he were deserting her.
“I lose my temper far too easily,” the lady was saying. “But you see, Vander is a true friend to me. We cherish him deeply. He deserves to choose his own wife, Miss Carrington. A wife who is suitable for him. Please.”
“I well understand your concern for His Grace,” she said, trying not to think about her unsuitability, “and I respect your good wishes for him. I assure you that there will still be time for the duke to find a lady who is deserving of him. We shan’t be married long, and he’s still quite a young man.”
“What?”
Before Mia could answer, Chuffy swooped down and sat himself between them. He had a glass of champagne that he handed to Mia, and a bottle that he was drinking from.
“I thought I’d better rescue you,” he whispered loudly, and turning to the group at large, “There’s no music at this party.”
“That’s because it’s not a party,” Vander said, coming around the settee. Lady Xenobia hopped up and swept her husband away to the other side of the room. Maybe she would be more polite now she knew the temporary nature of the union she and her husband were supposed to witness.
“Well, my boy, you are in luck: I can provide the music. What is love? ’tis not hereafter,” Chuffy caroled, or perhaps warbled was a better word for it. “Come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth’s a stuff will not endure.”
He leaned toward Mia, lips puckered.
Vander’s hand shot out. He pulled her to her feet and back against his chest before she could stop him. “Miss Carrington is not for kissing, Uncle.”
Chuffy blinked up at them. “Are you older than sweet-and-twenty?” he asked Mia.
“Yes,” she said, feeling very old-maid-ish.
“Well, then, I wasn’t offering to kiss you,” he pointed out.