The Arrogant Earl of Denfield
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Prologue
Anne looked out of the window as her sister’s carriage rolled away from their father’s manor house and felt the tears begin to burn behind her eyes. As delighted as she was for Netty’s marriage, she felt herself even more a spinster than she already was. Her father had given up on her completely and now with Netty wed and she the only one remaining in the house with him, her chances of finding happiness were almost entirely gone. There was the very slim hope that she might meet a gentleman in the vicinity of her father’s estate but given that she was acquainted with all the neighbours already, the chances of that were very poor indeed.
Pulling out her handkerchief, Anne dabbed at her eyes, relieved that she was alone so that no-one would see her tears.
“I can hardly believe that Netty is wed!”
Anne crumpled up her handkerchief in her hand as she turned to greet her aunt who had come through the door of the drawing room, a broad smile on her face. “Yes, Aunt. It is quite wonderful, is it not?”
“And when are you to marry?” her aunt asked, tilting her head as Anne quickly looked away, aware of how quickly her face heated. “Your father is to take you back to London next Season, is he?”
Shaking her head, Anne looked out of the window again in the hope that her aunt would not see the tears in her eyes. “I think father has quite given up on me, Aunt. After all, I am one and twenty and therefore nothing more than a spinster.”
“Oh, nonsense!” Lady Mayhew waved her hand wildly, an action which Anne caught out of the corner of her eye. “I was two and twenty before I met Viscount Mayhew and three and twenty before we wed! You are not a spinster yet.”
“Yes, she is.”
Anne closed her eyes tightly as the voice of her father rolled through the room, the heavy weight of his chagrin seating itself on her shoulders.
“You know as well as I, Lady Mayhew, that Anne is much too old now to be considered by any gentleman.”
“That is ridiculous,” came the firm reply, as Anne opened her eyes, one hand pressed against her stomach to steady herself though she did not dare bring her gaze around to where her father stood. “As I was just saying to Anne, I myself was not wed until I was three and twenty!”
Lord Ellon let out a snort of what sounded like ridicule and Anne’s stomach tightened all over again. “Which was much too old, Lady Mayhew. Quite why Lord Mayhew took to you at that age, I shall never understand.”
It was just like her father to be rude and inconsiderate though Anne’s face burned with embarrassment all the same.
“Because he fell in love with me,” Lady Mayhew replied, a laughing softness in her voice which brushed up against Lord Ellon’s dark tones. “And we have been very happy and contented together for many years. Therefore, I will not agree with you that Anne here is unable to find herself a good match at her age. She must be given opportunity, that is all!”
“She has been given opportunity!” came the loud exclamation, which was then followed by a guffaw. “Good gracious, do you not know that Anne has had three Seasons without a single gentleman seeking to court her?”
Anne wanted to sink down into a pile of skirts on the floor, such was her shame. She had watched as her two younger sisters had both found suitable matches of their own – with Netty being the latter – while she herself stood back and wondered how she could exude the same elegance and ease of manner which they displayed. Her father had always criticized her, had always told her that she was lacking in one way or another – particularly in relation to her younger sisters – and thus, she had found herself tongue-tied in any conversation with a gentleman, sure that she was going to say the wrong thing or speak out of turn given the heavy criticism of her father. She shrank back, certain that her appearance was not as perfect as it ought to be, that the gown she wore or the color of it did nothing to enhance her appearance – again, all because of the criticism of her father. Her two younger sisters had not suffered in the same way for Lord Ellon, for whatever reason, seemed to think her the very worst out of the three and had pushed all of his frustrations upon her rather than upon them.
If only mother was here. Anne’s eyes burned with fresh tears as her aunt and her father continued to discuss her situation. How much she missed her dear, sweet mother who, some years ago, had taken herself to visit her sister up in Scotland and, thereafter, had never returned. Anne herself was forbidden to speak of the situation to anyone for her father had made it quite clear that she was to remain silent, though that did not prevent her from writing many letters to her mother whenever she could. They were always responded to with her mother always apologizing for her prolonged absence but never giving reason for it. She assured Anne, Charlotte and Netty of her love and begged them not to think poorly of her but that was all that had ever been said by way of explanation.
“I shall take Anne to London for the Season.”
Anne turned quickly, all thought of her mother going from her mind as she stared at her aunt, seeing how she had her hands at her hips and her head lifted in a triumphant gesture.
“Why should you waste your time on Anne?” Lord Ellon retorted as though Anne herself was not standing between them. “Nothing will come of it, I promise you! Besides which, it is good for me to have her around the house. Since her mother has not yet returned from her prolonged visit to Lady Arnette, I require Anne to keep this house running as it ought.”
Closing her eyes again briefly, Anne’s shoulders dropped, her heart growing heavy all over again. There was not to be any Season for her, not again. Her father was quite right, she had failed to find a suitable match these last few Seasons, so why should she be given any further responsibility?
Though, would it not be different alongside your aunt? said a quiet voice in her head. Would it not be quite wonderful?
“Do stop complaining about this, Ellon.” Lady Mayhew sniffed, turning her head to Anne. “Anne herself wishes to join me and you will be able to deal very well with living alone, I am sure. After all, it is not a situation which is likely to change at any moment, is it?”
Anne felt rather than saw the anger which quickly flooded the room, feeling the atmosphere grow thicker, the darkness surrounding them all. Lady Mayhew and Anne’s own mother were sisters and clearly, her mother had written to Lady Mayhew to explain what was happening with her own circumstances at present – and Lord Ellon was all too aware of it.
“You shall not take my daughter to – ”
“Yes, I shall.” Lady Mayhew lifted her eyebrow, her head cocked to one side, hands still tight at her waist. “And you shall agree, Lord Ellon. What is more, you shall give me enough funds to make certain that Anne has new gowns, gloves and shawls, as well as pin money.”
Anne looked to her father, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. Her father was a tall and imposing figure, his shoulders broad and a deep shadow spreading out from him as though it wanted to engulf them all. There was a tension and a tightness in his jaw that had not been there before. Anne’s heart thudded wildly, seeing her aunt and her father go up against each other while she herself felt nothing but anxious. Looking down at her hands, she gripped them both together and squeezed, unable to lift her head to look back at her father.
“And if I do not?” The challenge in Lord Ellon’s voice had Anne’s gaze jumping to her aunt, seeing her frown.
“If you do not give me Anne to take with me to London for the Season, then I am afraid that there are some circumstances which I think will entertain the ton a great deal.”
“Circumstances?”
“Yes,” Lady Mayhew replied, her eyebrow arched. “I might have to tell the ton that Lady Ellon has taken a prolonged leave of absence from her husband’s estate. And I might also have to tell them my considerations as to why that might be.”
Lord Ellon’s face went scarlet, his eyes blazing with anger as he stood as tall as he could and Anne felt herself shrinking inwardly, though Lady Mayhew seemed entirely calm given the way she simply looked back at Lord Ellon without a single flicker of concern in her gaze.
“How dare you think to even threaten such thing?” Lord Ellon spat, coming a little closer to Lady Mayhew. “Besides which, you are a fool to even suggest that you will do that for in doing so, you will injure your niece! Anne will have a stain upon her reputation and – ”
“Which will matter very little given that you have decided that she ought to be a spinster,” replied Lady Mayhew, calmly. “And your other two daughters are wed and settled so it will not injure them.”
Anne looked again to her father, her worry growing so severely, she felt her breath tighten in her chest. She knew all too well the temper that her father possessed and the last thing she desired was for it to be thrown upon her aunt, given that Lady Mayhew was only trying to do her some good. She had no expectation that her father would relent for he was always determined, always unwilling to brook even a single argument, a single word against his desires. With a small sigh, Anne turned her attention back to the window and waited for her aunt’s defeat.
“I will have no part of this.”
Her eyes flared as Lord Ellon continued to speak, a fierce, burning, furious hope building in her heart, offering her something she had never even imagined might be for her.
“This will be her last Season. If you do this, if you take her and have no success, then you will never complain to me about this again. You will never ask for any further time with her. Do I make myself clear?”
“Quite. Though I expect that money from you also, Ellon. I have seen how you have treated your eldest daughter and how differently you have treated the other two. You ought to be ashamed of yourself in that.”
“I do not know – ”
“Do not pretend that you have no understanding of what I am talking about,” Lady Mayhew interrupted Lord Ellon sharply, leaving Anne to catch her breath in astonishment. “You have berated her, criticized her and shamed her simply because she looks the most like her own, dear mama. Is that not your reason for your harsh treatment?” Her voice rose, echoing around the room as tears began to pour into Anne’s eyes all over again. “But I will give her the opportunities that you have stolen from her by your hard-heartedness towards her, I will give Anne the confidence she has so often lacked. And I will have her married, settled and happy by the end of the Season. I can promise you that.”
Anne’s heart swelled with such a love for her aunt, with such an overwhelming happiness that she wanted to throw herself into Lady Mayhew’s embrace but, instead, she wrapped her arms about her waist and waited for the conversation to come to an end.
“I highly doubt that!” The sneer in Lord Ellon’s voice took away some of Anne’s joy though she fought hard to keep it. “I have very little hope of your success.”
“Then I place a bet upon your disbelief.”
Anne turned quickly, her eyes wide, wanting to warn her aunt away from doing such a thing, wanting to tell her not to push Lord Ellon any more, but Lady Mayhew merely glanced at her and then smiled with a confidence that Anne could not understand.
“If I am successful, then you will offer Anne three times the dowry you have for her at present.”
Anne sucked in a breath, shock rifling through her.
“And if I fail, then I shall repay you all the funds that have been spent on Anne for the Season,” Lady Mayhew finished. “What say you to that, Ellon?”
Forcing herself to look into her father’s face, Anne saw the cruel curl of his lip, the laughing mockery in his eyes and felt herself begin to panic. She had already tried and failed at the Season before. What was it that her aunt thought she could to in order to force success upon her? She tried to speak, tried to tell Lady Mayhew not to do such a thing but before she could do so, Lord Ellon waved one hand and made his declaration.
“Two times her dowry at present, not three.”
“No,” Lady Mayhew returned, quickly. “Three and not a penny less. I have no doubt that you have offered her a very poor dowry already so such a thing will not strain you.”
Lord Ellon considered and then shrugged, his shoulders lifting and falling back again. “Very well. As I have said, it will not be of any difficulty to me for I am certain you shall fail.”
Lady Mayhew chuckled and Anne was surprised to see the flash of a frown crossing her father’s expression. Could it be that he had a little doubt in his heart? That he was uncertain about what he had just done?
“Very good, Ellon. I shall have the papers drawn up and we shall sign them together – oh yes, you need not look so surprised! You are not a gentleman known to keep his word and therefore, I shall have it all formalized and the like, so you cannot escape it when I bring Anne and her betrothed to you.” She smiled and then looked to Anne. “Come now, Anne, there is much for us to discuss. The Season shall soon be upon us and I want to be as prepared as we can be.”
Anne moved towards her aunt on legs that trembled, trying her best not to look into the foreboding face of her father. Lady Mayhew continued to speak as she led Anne out into the hallway, away from Lord Ellon, away from the dark atmosphere and, as they walked, Anne slowly felt the tension within her begin to fade.
“Am I really to go to London with you, Aunt?”
She stopped walking, turning her head to look up at Lady Mayhew who quickly slipped an arm around her shoulders, comforting her.
“Yes, of course you are, my dear. And more than that, you shall find yourself courted, engaged, wed and happy.” Her eyes softened. “I promise you that.”
Chapter One
Anne shook her head. “I don’t think I can do this, Aunt.”
“Of course you can.”
Looking down at herself, Anne shook her head again, this time all the more fervently. “I cannot! This is not the right colour for me and the cut of the gown is – ”
“It is the very height of fashion,” Lady Mayhew interrupted, smoothly. “Yes, it is a little different to what you are used to but I assure you, it is just as it ought to be. And as for the colour, given your raven hair and bright eyes, this gown will suit your green eyes perfectly.”
Anne blinked furiously, aware that there was something like panic lodged in her chest. Her gown was a gentle turquoise and had lace trim at the sleeves and the neck. To her, it felt as though she was revealing a little too much of her decolletage and the color was much too vivid for someone such as her. And yet, her aunt was insistent.
“I do not want to argue, Aunt,” she said, as the modiste smiled and nodded in evident great appreciation of the gown upon Anne’s frame, “but I am not sure that this will be the right gown for someone such as I to wear.”
Lady Mayhew’s expression softened and she reached out to squeeze Anne’s hand. “My dear girl, you are still very much afraid, are you not?”
Anne wanted to shake her head no, wanted to say that she was more than a little contented but try as she might, she could not bring herself to lie to her aunt. “I confess that I am continually afraid of what my father would think.”
“Though he is not here,” Lady Mayhew reminded her. “And he shall not set foot in London this Season, as well you know.”
“He might,” Anne protested, weakly. “He might decide to attend London so that he can watch me fail, just as I have done these previous years.”
Lady Mayhew shrugged. “Then if he does, he shall come to see your success, do you not think?”
Anne blinked, still struggling to find the same confidence within herself as was within her aunt. “I do not know. I am almost afraid to hope!”
“Another consequence of spending so much time with your father, I think.” Lady Mayhew sighed heavily. “My dear girl, I am sorry that so much has been set upon your shoulders. It is the very reason your mother has removed herself to Scotland, though I know that it broke her heart to leave the three of you with your father.”
Anne swallowed hard, questions beginning to arise in her mind. She had not spoken of her mother to anyone, not for a long time, for fear of what her father would do should he discover it. But she could trust her aunt, could she not? “Did she always think to leave us?”
“Oh, no!” Lady Mayhew’s eyes flared wide. “My dear, she did not expect for a moment to have left you all for so long. Do recall that I have visited her and spoken with her at length on this matter.”
Nodding slowly, Anne considered for a few moments. “You mentioned to me in one of your letters that you visited Scotland.”
“I did. I spent the first three months of the year with both of my sisters.” Lady Mayhew smiled rather sadly, her gaze going away from Anne. “I do think that your mother is a good deal more herself than she has been in some years. I spoke to her about her absence, about the length of time she has been away and the torment it brought her gave me such pain, I regretted ever speaking to her of it!”
“But why could she not return?”
Lady Mayhew closed her eyes briefly. “Your father is the cause of her pain, Anne.” Opening her eyes, she looked back at her. “I will speak plainly, for you will understand it and I believe it will help you in your present struggle: your father threatened your mother’s very life and it is for that reason that she ran to Scotland.”
A tremor shook Anne’s frame, her breathing becoming quick and shallow as she looked back into her aunt’s solemn face, seeing the truth hidden in her expression.
“I would not have told you for any other reason than understanding,” Lady Mayhew continued, quietly. “If she returned home, she was uncertain as to whether she would remain alive for any length of time. You father’s fury, his anger, has always been hot and uncertain and, sadly, directed towards her. You cannot imagine her torment, given how much she loved her daughters but how much she feared for her own life.”
Anne swallowed hard, tears pricking her eyes. “Thank you for telling me.” Her voice was weak and thin. “I do appreciate the truth, Aunt. I have always missed my mother and could never truly understand why she left for Scotland… though I did wonder if it might be something to do with father.”
Lady Mayhew blinked rapidly, clearing away tears. “She loves you desperately, as do I. In truth, I should have come to your aid long before now. I merely thought that since your sisters had found success, you would too but in your own time. I did not realise that your father thought you devoid of purpose just because you had reached a certain age.”
Anne laughed rather ruefully. “I have always been encouraged towards failure.”
“But not any longer.” Lady Mayhew tilted her head, regarding her. “You truly do look like your mother.”
A knot formed in Anne’s throat and she looked away, spreading her hands out either side as she took in the gown once more. “If you believe that this will suit me, Aunt, then I will be glad to wear it.” She heard the slight tremor in her voice, caught the faint whisper of worry in her words but lifted her chin and gave her reflection a nod of determination. “I shall wear whatever you think best.”
“Wonderful!” Lady Mayhew beamed at her, the tears in her eyes now quickly forgotten. “Then let me next encourage you to try on this gown. Yes, it is not cream or white as your father would expect, but a soft blue. I think it will suit you very well.”
Anne turned to look at the gown the modiste had brought out and though the color and the cut worried her – as the gown she currently wore had done – she found in herself a tiny wedge of confidence and thus, gave it a nod. “I shall try it on, certainly.”
“Excellent.” Lady Mayhew smiled at her again, her eyes alight with happiness. “You shall find yourself anew this Season, my dear Anne. It will truly be the happiest Season you have ever experienced!”
***
It was not until some hours had passed that Anne was finally able to step out of the modiste’s shop alongside her aunt, finding herself suddenly rather tired though all she had done had been to stand and try on various gowns and other adornments. She was pleased, however, that she had managed to do all that her aunt had asked of her and though her confidence was still lacking, though she found herself questioning almost everything that her aunt had encouraged her to try on, Anne had fought against such worries and had won.
“Now, your first ball is this evening,” her aunt reminded her as they walked along the street, back towards the waiting carriage which was a short distance away. “There is much that we need to discuss and practice before then.”
Anne nodded. “I confess, Aunt, that whenever a gentleman tries to speak with me, I find myself so caught up with fright that I can barely speak a word back to him.” Her face grew hot as her aunt looked at her sharply, her lips pressing tight together for a moment. “I am embarrassed to say so but that is my great struggle.”
“It is something that can be overcome, however.” Lady Mayhew again spoke with a confidence and a determination that Anne wished would spread through her also, hating that her stomach was twisting and turning in all such directions. “You will need practice, as I have said, and you will also need to have only brief moments of conversation rather than thinking you must speak at length to any given gentleman.”
Anne looked at her in surprise. “You do not think that I must find a good many things to talk about with a gentleman?” she asked, a little astonished. “My father has always instructed me to have at least five questions in mind which I am to ask any gentleman who seeks to speak with me. Five questions which will show an interest and prove that I am able to make excellent conversation.”
Lady Mayhew laughed merrily and shook her head. “Goodness, no! You need not put such a weight upon yourself! When I met Lord Mayhew for the first time, introductions were made and, thereafter, he asked me to dance. Do you know what our conversation was like that evening?”
“No, I do not.”
“It was nothing at all!” Lady Mayhew replied, her expression still one of mirth. “He did not speak to me during our dance and I did not speak to him. Once it was at an end, he returned me to my sister and that was that. The next ball, he asked me to dance again but it was only through a distant acquaintance that our conversations finally began to grow. You need not worry so much, my dear girl. In fact…” Turning, she took both of Anne’s hands in her own, looking Anne square in the eye. “I should like you, from this moment, to forget everything your father has told you. I should like you to put it all aside, to never think of it again. Instead, I should ask you to pretend that this is your first Season – though it is your first Season with me, I suppose – and that you do not know a single thing about what to do or how to act. I shall instruct you in everything and you need not think on what your father would do or what he would think of your actions ever again.”
Anne swallowed hard, nodding slowly as her aunt searched her expression, perhaps looking for worry in Anne’s expression.
“You can do that?”
“I – I think I can.” Taking in a deep breath, Anne set her shoulders and nodded. “I know I can.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. I – ”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Anne turned her head just in time to see a gentleman lurching out of a carriage, his shouted exclamation what had interrupted her aunt. Her eyes widened as the gentleman staggered forward, his feet tripping over themselves as another gentleman laughed raucously from the carriage behind him. Had he been pushed out of the carriage for some reason?
“It is a little early for such nonsense.” Lady Mayhew’s eyes narrowed slightly, her tongue clicking in disapproval. “Goodness, these sorts of gentlemen are certainly not the sort I shall be introducing you to this evening!”
Anne found herself studying both gentlemen, first the one in the carriage and the other who was, by now, attempting to climb back inside though he could not seem to get one foot onto the step so addled were his wits. The fellow in the carriage was laughing uproariously, his head thrown back, his shock of dark hair falling carelessly over his forehead when he looked back at his friend. The other gentleman was fair-haired and was slim and wiry, though he had not realized until now that he had lost his hat in the street. Releasing his grip from the carriage, he turned around and made to reach for it, only to fall over his feet again and crumple to the street.
“We should go away,” Lady Mayhew said quickly, threading her arm through Anne’s and beginning to hurry her away from both gentlemen. “Such behaviour is a disgrace and had I known their names, I would have gone to them and offered them such a scolding, it would have rung through all of London!”
Anne hid a smile, knowing full well that Lady Mayhew would have done such a thing without hesitation – and that the two gentlemen might have come to their senses because of it! All the same, however, she turned her head and glanced back at them, a little relieved to see that the fair-haired gentleman was now climbing back into the carriage and was no longer crumpled on the ground.
“Disgraceful,” Lady Mayhew said again, as Anne turned her head back again. “Now, let us begin to think of what this evening will bring rather than considering these poor excuses for gentlemen! There is much to be achieved and much to learn… and what better time to start than this very moment!”
Anne smiled at her aunt, glad to hear the enthusiasm back in her voice. “I am willing to learn whatever you wish to teach me, Aunt,” she said, trying to ignore the worry which threatened to pinch at her mind. “Including which sort of gentlemen to avoid!”
Lady Mayhew let out a tinkling laugh as they reached their own carriage. “Gentlemen who behave like that ought to be entirely ignored,” she stated, firmly. “But have no fear, there will be many an example of excellent gentlemen this evening. Of that, I am quite sure.”
Chapter Two
Peter ran one hand over his eyes and slumped back against the carriage squabs. He had laughed so hard, his chest hurt. “Will you sit down, Henley?”
His brother grinned at him. “I am sitting down. You have drunk so much, it seems as though you cannot tell whether I am sitting or standing!”
“I am well aware that you are standing.” Though Peter had laughed at his brother’s foolishness, he was not about to let Henley believe that he was as inebriated as he. “Sit down, Henley, before the carriage leaves and you fall over. You have done enough falling already!”
His brother frowned and, looking all about him, seemed to realize – albeit slowly – that Peter had been speaking the truth. With a grin, he seemed to half-fall, half-sit in the seat opposite Peter and then closed his eyes.
“You are not to cast up your accounts in this carriage, do you hear me?” Peter warned, seeing the color begin to drain from his brother’s face as the carriage lurched back down the cobbled street towards Peter’s townhouse. “I came to rescue you from Lord Yardley, as your message stated, only to find you so utterly overcome, you could barely stand! It would be shameful to then disgrace yourself in such a way.”
Viscount Henley only let out a low groan, a line forming between his eyebrows as his face scrunched up into a frown.
“You are feeling unwell already?” Peter scowled and then shook his head. “Brother or not, I will have you out on the street if you dare think of being sick in my carriage.”
“I will not cast up my accounts,” Lord Henley mumbled, though Peter did not believe him given the color of his face. “Goodness, whyever did I send for you and your monstrosity of a carriage again?”
Peter sighed and closed his eyes, his mirth already leaving him. His brother and he had always been close given that there was only a year between their births, but of late, Henley had taken to keeping in poor company and his behavior was becoming a little more erratic. What was worse, he often called on Peter to come and rescue him from whatever situation he found himself in and, every time thus far, Peter had left what he himself had been doing and had come to the aid of his brother, even though he found himself rather displeased at the interruption.
“You sent for me because, as your message stated, Lord Yardley was forcing you to imbibe far too much brandy and was speaking of such dark things, you found yourself to be scared out of your wits.”
“Oh.” Lord Henley frowned, though his eyes remained closed. “It is just as well I always take my manservant with me. He is very good at sending you messages.”
“Yes, he is,” Peter agreed, dryly, “though I do not think that he is particularly pleased with the notion.”
His brother snorted. “I do not care what it is that he thinks. He is to do as I instruct him and that is all.” Lifting his head, his eyes opening suddenly, he smiled blandly at Peter. “Shall we stop at Whites? I am in mind of making a bet!”
“Certainly, we shall not,” Peter replied, firmly, all hint of mirth now gone from his mind as he saw the ridiculousness of his brother’s behavior. “It is the very worst of times to make a bet when one is as inebriated as you.”
“You could always join me to make certain that I do not make any bets that are too ridiculous.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “As though I should be glad to waste more of my time doing such a thing as that. In case you are unaware, brother, I was engaged in a matter of business when your message came. I was forced to leave that to come to your aid.”
“Which is just as you ought to have done, given your standing as my brother.”
Shaking his head, Peter looked out of the window rather than at his brother. He had caught sight of more than one disapproving look as he had laughed at his brother’s attempts to climb back up into the carriage, though he had cared very little for what anyone thought. After all, it was not he who had fallen to the street. That was entirely his brother’s doing and if Lord Henley wished to ruin his own reputation, then Peter could do nothing to prevent it. Yes, he would come to his aid but what Lord Henley chose to do was his own decision.
Though mayhap I ought to have been more sober-minded, he considered, his mouth pulling to one side. Perhaps in laughing along with him, perhaps in joviality, I have failed to show any sort of restraint or sober thinking.
Closing his eyes and letting out a huff of breath, Peter tried to sort out one thought from another. He was not his brother’s keeper, of course, but his heart would not permit him to ignore his brother when his request for help came. That being said, Peter was beginning to fear that this situation was repeating itself – and would continue to do so until either he refused to come to Lord Henley’s aid, or until Lord Henley himself realized the foolishness of what he was doing.
“At last, we have arrived!”
It took Peter a moment to realize that his brother was quite correct and that they were now outside Peter’s own townhouse, rather than the townhouse which belonged to his brother. “I will instruct the driver to take you back home.”
“No, I shall join you.”
Peter put out one hand, pressing his brother gently back into his seat as Lord Henley made to rise. “No, Henley, you shall not,” he said, with more firmness than his brother had expected given the way his eyes rounded. “I am to return to the matter of business I am considering and cannot have any distractions. Are you to attend the ball this evening?”
Lord Henley frowned but nodded. “I think so.”
“Lord and Lady Colinsdale’s ball,” Peter reminded him, though no flash of recognition came into his brother’s expression. “Might I suggest, then, that you go home, rest and recover before this evening’s festivities?” He did not give his brother time to answer, did not give him opportunity to agree or to disagree but instead, opened the carriage door and stepped out before quickly instructing the driver to return his brother to his own townhouse. Watching it roll away, he sighed inwardly and turned to walk into his own house.
“Your brother, again?”
A gentle voice greeted him as he came into the hallway, quickly handing the butler his hat and gloves. “Good afternoon, Lady Symington.” He kissed her cheek as she came near. “Though I do believe that he is your brother also.”
His sister looked back at him steadily. “He is, though I confess that I am becoming a little concerned for him. He is often foolish these days.”
Peter let his lips curve into a small smile. “Yes, he is.”
“And he has not always been so.”
“No, he has not.” Stifling a sigh, he looked back into her eyes. “But pray, what can I do in this vexing concern? I have beseeched him with my disapproval of his excessive indulgence, yet he dismisses my counsel with indifference.”
“Then I shall speak with him.”
“I do not think that it will do any good,” Peter replied, gesturing for her to join him as they walked to the drawing room. “I do hope Lord Symington has not been too frustrated with my absence?” At the time of his brother’s message, Peter had been discussing a business proposal with Viscount Symington, his sister’s husband, and all had been going well. Had it been unwise of him to depart so hastily in order to help his brother not do anything foolish?
“No, you will find my husband enjoying your very fine French brandy,” his sister told him, a quiet laugh in her voice. “Symington is patient to a fault.”
“A trait I am very grateful for, given the circumstances,” Peter replied, gesturing for the footmen to open the door for them both to step inside. “Thank you for understanding, Julia.”
“But of course.” Letting out a small sigh, she looked up at him, her eyes holding a good deal of concern as she gazed into his face. “Is it seemly for me to harbour such apprehension for our brother, or am I behaving as a foolish, overly anxious sister?”
Peter could not answer her, finding his own heart still uncertain. “I do not know,” he offered, honestly. “Let us pray that he sees good sense… and that he sees it soon.”
***
I do not know why, but there is something familiar about that young lady.
Peter frowned, his eyes fixing to a dark haired young woman who was standing with a lady he also vaguely recognized. He could not say why, could not understand why his mind tugged to her but there was something about her that seemed recognizable to him.
“Now, who is it that you are staring at?”
Peter started, then rolled his eyes as Lord Symington leaned in towards him, a knowing smile on his face. “I am not staring at anyone in particular.”
“That young lady, is it?”
Without meaning to, Peter glanced towards the dark haired young lady again and Lord Symington immediately chuckled, making Peter’s irritation burn.
“It is not that I am studying her for any other reason but I find her familiar… though I do not know why.”
“Is it because she has caught your eye, mayhap?”
Peter quickly shook his head. “Not in the least.”
“Then why?”
“Because… because she is familiar to me, though I do not know her name nor truly recognise her, if that makes sense to your ears?” Peter tried to explain but found himself failing. “It seems strange to me that I would see her face as recognisable but not know her title.”
“Mayhap you have merely passed her in the street and taken note of her beauty.”
Peter let out a heavy sigh, though his brother-in-law only grinned. “I do not have any interest in any young lady at present, whether they be beautiful or not.”
Lord Symington tilted his head. “Do you not think that young lady – the one you have been watching – could be considered beautiful?”
Having no wish for Lord Symington to mock him any further, Peter gave her only a cursory glance before shrugging his shoulders. “She has fine features, certainly, but she does not speak to anyone. She simply stands there, silently, while the lady with her speaks to the two ladies with them.”
Lord Symington frowned. “Why should such a thing matter?”
“Because it is clear she either has no interest in what is being spoken of – in which case, I might consider her a little rude – or she has no confidence to join in the conversation, which I might then consider to be a lack of character. All this is to say that yes, whether she be beautiful or not, I would not even think to consider her.”
“I see.” His friend smiled suddenly, making Peter frown at the response. “It is interesting to me that you are doing your level best to claim that you have no interest – and could have no interest – in the lady whatsoever. Are you quite certain that you do not find her at all intriguing?”
“Only because I do not know why I find her familiar, that is all.” Speaking crisply, Peter looked back at his friend. “I am here to enjoy the Season, as you are.”
“Ah but there is a difference between you and I.”
Peter frowned. “Namely?”
“That I am wed and you are not.” Lord Symington chuckled. “Therefore, I can truly enjoy the Season for what it is while you must continually be considering the young ladies around you and wondering whether or not any of them will be suitable enough for you.”
Shaking his head, Peter let out a low chuckle. “I can assure you, I have no intention of doing any such thing. When I marry – and yes, I am aware that I must marry in order to produce the heir – it will be by arrangement only. Mayhap a second cousin or the like. Someone who will be entirely suitable.”
Lord Symington lifted an eyebrow. “And you will not permit your heart to say anything in that regard?”
“Certainly, I will not!” Peter scoffed. “I do not think that any gentleman who has any wisdom would permit their heart to have any sort of say in who they marry. That would be foolishness, surely, given that one’s heart can be so fickle.”
There came a long silence and as Peter looked back at his friend, he realized with agonizing slowness, that he had managed to insult him. Closing his eyes, he winced, letting out his breath in a hiss.
“I came to care for your sister before we ever considered engagement,” Lord Symington said, quietly. “And I do not think that I lack wisdom.”
“I would not suggest for a moment that you were in any way foolish,” Peter said quickly, a flush of heat rising up his chest and into his face. “Forgive me, I did not think that through with any sense of true consideration.”
“No, you did not,” Lord Symington replied, a little dryly. “Though I shall forgive you, given that we are family.”
Peter put one hand to his heart.
“And I should tell you that there is ample opportunity for any gentlemen of good standing and of wisdom to fall in love with a young lady,” Lord Symington continued, firmly. “You ought not to shut yourself away from it.”
With a small, wry smile, Peter shook his head. “That is not for me. I have no interest in allowing my heart to feel anything, not in that regard at least. It seems a good deal too tiring.”
“Tiring?” Lord Symington laughed. “I can assure you, falling in love does nothing other than brings joy and happiness to my heart rather that fatiguing me. I have always been grateful for the day that I met your sister. It has brought me life!”
“And I am glad to hear that from you,” Peter replied, firmly, “but I have always been practically minded and have no intention of allowing emotion to cloud my judgement.”
All the same, when he turned his attention back towards the room at large, his gaze seemed to demand that he draw himself back to the young lady whom he recognized. He did all he could not to look at her but his gaze found him back there time and again to the point that, eventually, he turned himself away completely so he would not stare at the lady and wonder at her. Her memory continued to niggle at him and, desperate for relief, Peter went in search of a brandy and a game of cards, determined now to put the whole matter out of his mind.
Let me know your thoughts!
I’m glad that you finished reading the preview of “The Arrogant Earl of Denfield”. It will be on Amazon very soon!
This Post Has 4 Comments
Hmmmmmmm, I like it! I find Lady Mayhew wonderful!!! Stepping in like that and basically calling a spade a spade (particularly when a woman at that time had no say in things). Anne and Peter must both overcome so many learned behaviors … sigh. I look forward to reading this book 🙂
I like the story so far. Looks like it will be another good read!
I love it….especially love the aunt!!!
It will be interesting to see the father get bested