“I think you have a young lady to greet,” he said, elbowing Lord Prestwick. “Pray tell me that you have already met the mother, for she does look a little fearsome.”
Lord Prestwick turned to Richard. “I have indeed,” he said, with a triumphant smile. “And you are quite correct! Lady Peabody is something of a dragon. Thankfully, she seems to accept my company without hesitation!” With this, he strode past Richard, his head held high and his back straight, quickly making his way to Lady Peabody and her daughter. Richard could not help but chuckle, shaking his head to himself as he turned away, seeking to get himself another drink.
“Good evening, Lord Harlow.”
Richard glanced to his left, a little surprised to see the Baron Fulham approaching. The man was small in stature, but from what Richard knew, had a great deal of wealth for his title, although there had been gossip about how he had come about such money. He was middle-aged, with a wife, a son who would inherit the title, and a younger daughter whom, Richard presumed, he had taken to London to try to find a match for her this Season.
“Good evening,” Richard replied, not wanting to appear rude but certainly lacking any sort of desire to remain in the fellow’s company for any length of time. “You are back in London, then?”
“I am,” the baron replied with such a look of contempt that Richard almost stepped back in astonishment. “My daughter is to find a suitable match this Season.”
Richard tried to look interested but prayed that this was not an attempt by the Baron to make him interested in meeting the girl. “I hope she is successful.”
“My son, of course, is still unwed, but his choice must be much more carefully decided,” the baron said with an air of arrogance in his words. “After all, he is to carry the title!”
“Of course,” Richard murmured, wondering if the son was anything like his father and thinking that, if he was so, there was going to be a good deal of difficulty in finding a suitable young lady that would meet his standards. “Is he here this evening?”
The baron shook his head. “No, he is gone to Lord Melville’s dinner party,” he said, puffing out his chest as though this was much more important than anything either he himself or Richard could attend. “I am certain he is making an excellent impression.”
“I am sure it will be an excellent evening,” Richard replied, not wanting to say anything more and wondering how he might carefully extract himself from this particular conversation.
“However, my son does intend to enjoy himself whilst he is here in London,” the Baron continued. “In fact, he is to join a game of cards tomorrow evening.” One brow lifted as he looked towards Richard. “Would you care to join us?”
Us? Richard thought, narrowing his eyes just a fraction as he realized the Baron would also be there. Was this a game of cards set up by a particular gentleman? Or was the Baron attempting to corral various gentlemen from the nobility in order to make himself appear more important than he was at present?
“I—I do not think so,” he said, hesitating. “I believe I am already engaged.”
The baron did not look as though he believed Richard’s excuse. “Is that so?” he murmured. “Well, that is a shame, particularly when so many other gentlemen will be attending—including your father, Lady Christina, is that not so?”
Richard stared in astonishment, having not expected the baron to speak in such an unseemly manner for one, drawing Lady Christina into their conversation in such a crude fashion. He turned and inclined his head, seeing the tightness in her expression as she regarded the baron.
“I do not know of what you are speaking,” she said quietly. “My father’s affairs are his own business.”
The baron scoffed loudly at this, and a spot of color appeared on each of Lady Christina’s cheeks. Richard found himself wanting to apologize to the lady, wanting her to know that he had nothing to do with this conversation nor the way she had been drawn in, but instead, he found himself quite at a loss for words, overcome with embarrassment.
“I am sure you must know when your father goes to play cards and the like, for surely he must ask you for your good luck and thereafter, tell you of his success!” the baron exclaimed. “I know that I speak of such things to my daughter.”
“Whereas my father does not,” Lady Christina replied primly. “Now, if you will both excuse me, I must return to Lady Newfield.”
The baron, thankfully, said nothing more but, instead of bowing or making any effort to wish Lady Christina a good evening, merely turned his attention back to Richard, who was now both mortified and a little angry.
“You must come,” the baron said insistently. “I shall send you an invitation this very evening, once I have returned home.” He chuckled loudly as though this was something that Richard had eagerly desired to attend and was now finally being given the opportunity to do so. “I look forward to your company, Lord Harlow.”
Richard closed his eyes and drew in a steadying breath the moment the baron stepped away. The man was odious, indeed, and he had not enjoyed a single second of their interaction. Watching how Lady Christina moved towards Lady Newfield, he battled against the urge to hurry after her, to apologize and to beg her forgiveness for something he had not done. Shaking his head at the baron’s rudeness, Richard threw back the rest of his brandy and went in search of another glass. There was certainly no intention in his heart to accept the baron’s invitation, no matter what the gentleman expected. After a display like that, the last thing Richard wanted to do was spend more time in the fellow’s company.
“A pleasant conversation, perhaps?”
The gleam in Lord Prestwick’s eye irritated Richard deeply.
“Baron Fulham is not a gentleman I should ever willingly converse with again,” he said emphatically. “He was quite determined to have me come to some game of cards tomorrow evening, for whatever reason. I am to receive an invitation this very night!” He shook his head. “I believe the baron began by lying to me about the game, telling me that it was some gentleman or other who was to be the host, but I am quite certain that it is he and his son who have put the whole thing together.”
Lord Prestwick tilted his head. “If you are speaking of the game of cards that is to be played at the Chadwick House, then I am attending tomorrow evening.”
Richard stilled, looking at his friend in confusion.
“I believe it is the baron who has organized it all, yes,” Lord Prestwick continued, “but a good many gentlemen will be in attendance, and I have no desire to miss such an excellent evening.” He shrugged. “You will not attend?”
Richard did not know what to say. He had not wanted to go, had not intended even to consider accepting the invitation, but now that Lord Prestwick clearly indicated that he would attend, perhaps it would be a very enjoyable evening. Chadwick House was a well-known establishment, and Richard would certainly not be disgraced by his attendance.
“Perhaps I shall join you after all,” he mused, as Lord Prestwick grinned. “It does sound like an entertaining evening.”
“Excellent,” Lord Prestwick replied, gesturing to a footman who brought his tray of glasses towards them both, with Richard promptly picking up a glass of brandy for himself. “Until tomorrow, then.”
“I look forward to it,” Richard replied, taking a sip of his brandy and letting out a long, contented sigh. It looked like this was a very promising start to the Season.
Chapter Two
“Father?”
Christina opened the door carefully, peering carefully into her father’s study, but was surprised when she saw it empty. A small frown knitted her brow, for she had been expecting to speak to him this afternoon before she took a walk with Lady Newfield into town.
Her frown still tight on her brow, Christina walked a little farther into the room, the door swinging closed behind her. Just where was her father? There had been some matters to discuss, he had told her, matters that he wanted to speak to her of before she spent the afternoon�
�and then the evening—out at various social events. So why was he not present? It was not at all like him to be so absent.
Meandering to her father’s desk—and knowing full well she ought not to look at anything that was sitting there—Christina found her eyes drawn to a few papers scattered about. Her heart began to clamor, knowing her father was a very tidy gentleman and would never leave his papers in such a state. Her fingers brushed the papers, daring her to pick them up and, after a moment, she did so.
They meant nothing to her, she realized, her shoulders slumping. There was nothing other than numbers written on the page, and with them, a few scribbled words that would only make sense to her father. Sighing, Christina put them down again, turning back towards the door. She could not be late for Lady Newfield.
“Christina!”
The door opened just as she was about to reach it, her father framed in the doorway, his expression one of surprise.
“Father,” Christina replied, a small flicker of embarrassment rising within her. “I was just looking for you.” She smiled at him, but her father did not return it. “You asked to meet with me to discuss some matters that were on your mind before I went out with Lady Newfield.”
For a moment, her father did not move. Then, he shook his head as though to clear it, before making his way into the room.
“Yes, yes, of course,” he muttered, rubbing one hand over his face. “My apologies, Christina. It will have to wait.”
Christina took a few steps closer to her father, only for him to wave one hand at her as though he knew that she intended to comfort him.
“I am quite all right,” he said, sitting down heavily in his chair. “There is no need for concern, Christina.”
Not quite sure she believed her father’s words, Christina watched him closely, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, the weariness etched on his face...and then, she remembered.
He had been engaged last evening with some other gentlemen playing a few games of cards. No doubt it had gone on long into the night, and perhaps with a good deal of brandy and whisky with it as well. Little wonder that her father had been tardy this afternoon, and that he now looked as he did.
“When should you like to speak to me again, Father?” she asked, putting her hands in front of her and clasping her fingers together tightly. “Later today?”
Again, he waved a hand at her. “No, no, no,” he said tightly. “It cannot be done today. Nor even tomorrow. I have other matters to deal with at present.”
Christina blinked quickly, a little taken aback by her father’s hard tone. “Very well, Father,” she murmured before moving herself to the door. “I do hope you are quite all right, however.”
“I am fine,” her father replied firmly. “Now, go and enjoy your afternoon with Lady Newfield, and do not worry. And, Christina.”
She turned, her hand on the door handle. “Yes, Father?”
His eyes were hard, hard lines between his brows.
“Do not ever come into my study alone again.”
* * *
“You are quiet this afternoon, Christina.”
Christina looked up at Lady Newfield from where she had been perusing a few new books. “I am?” She gave her great-aunt a small smile. “Forgive me.” She did not say why such a thing might be, still feeling the stinging rebuke of her father’s final words. She had not thought that she had done wrong simply by being in his study without his welcome, but evidently, she had done so. The way he had looked at her as he had spoken, the way he had behaved, all made her feel both ashamed and upset. It was not like her father to be so, and she had certainly never had any such thing from him before.
“Might I ask why you are so quiet, Lady Christina?” Lady Newfield asked, tilting her head like a delicate flower pushed gently by the breeze. “Are you unwell?”
Christina shook her head, trying to smile. “I have a few things on my mind at present, Lady Newfield, that is all.”
Her great-aunt smiled gently, but her eyes still held a great deal of curiosity. “And what might they be?”
Finding herself entirely unwilling to say, Christina shrugged. The urge to tell the truth was not present as yet, the memory of her father’s words still too harsh. Instead, she chose her words carefully. “A few things that would bring your spirits low, should I express all to you,” she answered as Lady Newfield’s gaze became a little more focused. “Let me assure you that there is nothing too concerning, Lady Newfield.”
The lady studied her but did not immediately respond. It was as though she was considering carefully what to say next, just as Christina herself had done.
“Whatever it is, you know that you can share it with me,” she said eventually. “Might I ask if it is to do with Lord Harlow?”
Immediately, Christina shook her head. “No, no, it is not,” she said quickly. “I can assure you that this is nothing to do with Lord Harlow. In fact, I have not seen him in a day or so.” Her heart did not feel any comfort at this knowledge, however, reminding her that her interest in Lord Harlow did not seem to be returned as yet. How long would she have to wait until Lord Harlow finally asked her about courtship? Her heart sank slowly to the floor. What if he would never ask her? Was she being foolish over him?
“You are quite correct,” Lady Newfield murmured. “Your mind is plagued by a good many thoughts, Lady Christina.” Her hand was gentle over Christina’s. “Do speak to me when you wish to, my dear. I know I am your great-aunt and that we are not particularly close as yet, but I am here to listen to whatever you wish to say.”
Christina nodded, smiled, but then turned back to look at the books she had been studying. Lady Newfield was quite correct to state that they were not particularly close, for she had only met the lady a few times previously. However, given Christina’s mother had never been known to her—for the lady had passed away shortly after Christina’s birth—her father clearly thought it good for her to now have someone such as Lady Newfield present for this Season. Although, of course, she was still determined to believe that her father had sought Lady Newfield’s company so that he also could have some time away from the duties of accompanying his daughter through London.
The door chime rang, and Christina looked up, her stomach immediately tying itself in knots as she saw none other than Lord Harlow stepping into the shop. Had he seen her through the window and come to follow her? Or had it been nothing more than a coincidence?
Christina swallowed hard and turned away from the door, finding herself unwilling for him to see her. It was not something she could explain, however, aware that there was foolishness in her actions, yet finding her feet making their way to the back of the bookshop.
Breathing hard, Christina pressed one hand to her stomach and tried to reason with herself. Why was she behaving in such an odd way? Lord Harlow had always paid her great attention, and to try to run from him now made very little sense. Was it because she was frustrated at his lack of clear decision regarding their acquaintance? Or was it because she was beginning to fear that he would never seek to court her, and that her affection for him would die and wither to nothing?
Closing her eyes, Christina took in a deep breath and turned around slowly, thinking that she ought to return to Lord Harlow and greet him cordially, just as she ought to have done the moment he stepped into the shop. However, she had only taken a few steps forward when the door chimed again, and another gentleman came in, one she recognized but had never been introduced to. Spotting Lord Harlow, he moved quickly towards him, slapping him on the back and saying something in a quiet tone that Christina could not quite hear.
“Do be quiet,” she heard Lord Harlow hiss, his words reaching her ears despite his obvious desire to remain silent. “I do not wish to speak of Chadwick House.”
“Why ever not?” the second gentleman replied, refusing to do what Lord Harlow asked and speaking just as he had done before. Christina found herself moving a little closer, although she picked up a book and half-turned so t
hat her profile would not be seen. The thought that she was acting foolishly crossed her mind, but she threw it aside at once. Last evening, her father had been at the very same card game as Lord Harlow, it seemed. Chadwick House was precisely where her father had gone, and both Lord Harlow and this other gentleman had been in attendance also. Whatever had occurred?
“Because I do not wish to speak of it,” Lord Harlow said, a thin edge of anger to his voice. “Have I not made that quite clear? Please, respect what I have asked you, Prestwick.”
Lord Prestwick let out an exclamation of surprise. “You won a great deal of coin, Harlow!” he cried, his voice seeming to fill the quiet bookshop to every single corner and crevice. “Why should you not be pleased?”
Lord Harlow let out a long breath, and Christina could tell that he was growing angry with Lord Prestwick. She could practically feel it coming from him.
“Because, if you recall, Baron Fulham won a great deal also, and then appeared to be greatly upset with me when I refused a game with him to tie things up at the end,” he said tersely. “Or do you not remember how he asked me to leave the establishment simply because I refused his offer?”
Christina pressed one hand to her mouth, a little surprised that, not only had Baron Fulham been involved in this particular evening, but thereafter, he had dared to demand that Viscount Harlow remove himself from Chadwick House. The man was a fool to demand such a thing!
“But you refused him, did you not?” Lord Prestwick answered, mirth filling his voice. “And none of us present thought him in any way serious. We all laughed at his ridiculous suggestion, if I recall correctly.”
Betrayal and Lies: Convenient Arrangements (Book 4) Page 2
