Page 12 of Lady Scandal

“That is not at all the same,” she cried, indignant at the comparison.“Your wife might have done work for me before she met you, but she was never in charge of any hotel staff. And besides, Evie is a delightful person, while Lord Calderon is anything but. He called me a snob. I know,” she added, giving a gratified nod as she noted her cousin’s surprise. “Can you believe it?”

“Well, if memory serves, that’s what you called me about Evie.”

“I never said such a thing.”

“Words to that effect, then.”

“Nonsense. And again, we’re not talking about me, or you, for that matter. We’re talking abouthim. Who does he think he is, calling me a snob? Arrogant bastard.”

“Well, I hope you didn’t trade insult for insult and call him that to his face.”

She shifted guiltily in her chair. “Might have done,” she muttered. “In the heat of the moment.”

“Oh, Dee.” He laughed, shaking his head. “You do like to make things difficult, don’t you?”

“I couldn’t help it! You should have heard him, chastising me as if I’m a child, laying down the law, refusing to accept facts, denigrating other members of the aristocracy and talking as if he’s not even one of us.”

“Well, that last bit’s understandable, I suppose. He’s probably got a chip on his shoulder about our lot.”

She frowned in confusion. “But why should he have? He’s part of the aristocracy, too. Isn’t he a viscount?”

“Yes, but it’s a newly created title.”

“Ah, that explains why I’d never heard of him.”

“Exactly. He was awarded a peerage a few months ago for his bravery fighting the Boers.”

“The Boers?” She paused to do some quick arithmetic. “He must have been very young.”

“He was. Barely eighteen. He saved a general’s life during the Battle of Majuba Hill, or Laing’s Nek, or some such, and almost lost his own life in the process, I understand.”

“That was very brave,” she murmured, impressed in spite of herself—a reaction, oddly enough, that only made her more frustrated.

“Just so,” Max replied. “The Queen finally recognized him for his action a few months ago, giving him a title and an estate somewhere in Berkshire.”

“Better late than never, I suppose. The war was ages ago. Still, it’s quite an honor.”

“Indeed. Especially considering his background. Both his mother and father worked in the hotel trade.”

“Did they?” Delia’s mind flashed back to her conversation with Calderon about going hungry. In light of Max’s information, that singular remark made more sense now. “I see. But then,” she added, struck by another thought, “how did he manage the fees for Harrow? Inherited money? Scholarship?”

“If he were scholarship class, would that surprise you?”

Delia tossed her head. “He’s intelligent enough for a scholarship, I suppose,” she said grudgingly.

“A fine concession. I begin to understand why he called you a snob.”

“What?”

“Perhaps he thinks you already know about his father’s transgressions and his lowly background and are judging him for it?”

“First of all, I don’t even know what his father’s transgressions were.”

She shot him an inquiring look, and he capitulated with a sigh. “Embezzlement.”

“What?”

“His father was a hotel clerk who got caught with his hand in the till. The man was dismissed, of course—”