Edwardian Candlelight Omnibus by MC Beaton

she began, “but I would like to help you. I shall invite Miss Marsh to tea. She has not been in the habit of socializing with ladies of our quality. I feel sure that I can persuade her that she would not ‘fit in.’”
    “Most obliged to you,” said the duchess, “but couldn’t I do that myself?”
    “By no means,” said Lady Blenkinsop firmly. “Miss Marsh would
expect
you to be antagonistic. Please leave it to me.”
    “Grrumph,” assented the duchess, her mouth crammed with pastry.
    Polly stared at the embossed card, her blue eyes wide with fright. Tea! With Lady Blenkinsop, Saturday, October first. What was it all about? Should she go?
    Tea! Lady Blenkinsop! The marquis turned the card over in his long fingers. Why on earth had she invited him? He did not feel like traveling all the way to Putney to take tea with a lady whom he had met once and classed as a professional invalid. Should he go?

CHAPTER SIX
    The Blenkinsop’s large Victorian villa in Putney was called Mandalay, turreted and gargoyled on the outside, and suffocatingly overfurnished and overheated on the inside. Formal gardens, now bare of flowers, ran down to the edge of the steelgray Thames.
    Timidly pushing open the great iron gates, Polly wished for the umpteenth time that Maisie Carruthers had been employed by Lady Jellings in winter as well as summer. All the glory of the cobweb-lace tea gown was at the moment eclipsed by a shabby and worn plaid mantle of her own. Still, the butler would hopefully take that away and hang it in some dark closet before any of the company saw her. She wondered how many other guests had been invited. There were no carriages standing at the front of the house but then, she felt sure that she was early by about ten minutes.
    Wilkins relieved her of the shabby mantle and then led the way through a large dark hall that was an indoor jungle of pampa grass in Benaras brass bowls, reminding Polly suddenly of the entrance to the sitting room at the hostel.
    “Her ladyship,” said Wilkins, “will be with you presently.” He held aside the heavy red portiere and Polly stepped into the sitting room.
    Sir Edward Blenkinsop rose to meet her.
    Now, as far as Lady Blenkinsop was concerned, Sir Edward had already left to play a round of golf. But the bold Sir Edward had decided to linger behind to try his luck with the “ladybird.” The girl was no better than she should be, despite her clothes and airs. And he, Sir Edward, had been considered a bit of a dandy in his youth, and damme, if he was sure he hadn’t lost the old Blenkinsop touch.
    Twirling his shaggy gray mustache like a stage villain, Sir Edward advanced on the startled Polly. “Well, well, well, Miss Marsh! By Jove! Well, well, well…”
    Not a very sparkling conversational opening but Sir Edward was unaware of it. Inside, his voice was teasing and flirting and saying all sorts of deliciously naughty things. He was amazed that she did not fall into his arms. Instead, she sat down nervously on a red plush chair, perching herself on the edge of it as though ready for flight. “Well… Ha! Ha!… yes, yes, yes… well, well, well…” giggled Sir Edward while inside his soul rollicked and rolled. “By Jove!” he added in an intense whisper and bending forward, he placed one fat hand on Polly’s knee. He was panting and chuffing and blowing through his mustache. There! He hadn’t lost the old touch.
    Polly stared as if mesmerized at the “old touch” on her knee and at the fat blue veins like worms, which throbbed and bulged like separate creatures.
    The door opened and Lady Blenkinsop, followed by the Marquis of Wollerton, walked into the room and froze at the sight of her husband.
    “Edward! Leave this house immediately.”
    “It’s my house,” said Sir Edward childishly.
    “It’s mine,” snapped Lady Blenkinsop, as indeed it was. She looked thoughtfully at her husband as he crawled from the room. “Edward!”
    “My dear.”
    “Edward