by Meara Platt
Heather looked as though she was about to cry.
Dahlia grabbed her hand to comfort her.
Lady Dayne was scowling at her companion. “Honestly, Phoebe. Behave yourself.”
The little woman grumbled and then turned her piercing gaze on Heather. “Very well, here’s my advice to you. You have already met the man who loves you. He is not obviously suitable for you, but that is on him. He tries very hard to hide his true nature.”
“Lady Withnall, if you know his name, can you not just tell us?” Dahlia asked.
“No. Heather must learn to see through all these elegant trappings and seek the true treasure that is his heart.” She waved her hand to take in their surroundings. The glimmering crystal and shining silver. The elegant ladies in their shimmering silks and the brilliant gemstones dangling from their ears and necks. “This is all I will say on the matter.”
“Why does courtship have to be so hard?” Heather muttered when they sauntered to Aunt Sophie’s side a short while later. “I don’t understand any of what Lady Withnall meant just now. I can see beyond the glitter. The Marquess of Tilbury is no prancing peacock. Do you think he will be here? I don’t see him yet.”
“It is possible he was called home, seeing as how The Invictus has run aground in his back garden.”
“Oh, do you think so? What a disappointment. Now that I wore this gown tonight, I’ll have to wait at least a fortnight before wearing it again. And it’s so pretty.”
“It’s just a gown, Heather. What matters is who you are inside and out. You are a beautiful girl with a beautiful heart. This is what counts to any man of substance. Smile, Heather. No one is prettier than you when you smile.”
“How’s this?” She put on an exaggerated grin, crossed her eyes, and lolled her tongue to the side.
“Och, pixie. That face will haunt my dreams tonight. What in blazes are ye doing?”
They both turned in surprise to find Robbie MacLauren striding toward them. “None of the Braydens were able to attend tonight, so I was sent here to watch over Dahlia.” He glanced at Heather. “Seems ye need watching, too.”
“Any news yet from Tilbury?” Dahlia asked. “I suppose it is too soon.”
“Aye, too soon. I’ll come around to Chipping Way to let ye know if I hear word. Likely the first reports will begin to arrive tomorrow afternoon. I’ll do the same for Holly. I know how worried she is about Joshua.”
Dahlia nodded. “We were thinking to stay with her for the next few days.”
“Aye, that is a splendid idea. It canno’ be easy for her. Let me know if ye do. I’d rather no’ be traipsing about town delivering the same news to all of ye.”
The dinner bell sounded, leaving no more chance for conversation. Robbie was about to escort her in when the Duke of Stoke approached. “I’ll do the honors, Captain MacLauren, since Miss Farthingale and I are to be dinner partners.” He turned to Dahlia. “My daughter will be seated across the table from us. I’m eager to have you meet her.”
Robbie offered his arm to Heather. “Come along, pixie. Seems it will be just us.”
Dahlia was curious where her sister had been placed, for the far end of the table is where she ought to have been seated, too. She was relieved to see her settled beside Robbie. On her other side was a minor nobleman, a baron whose name she could not recall. Not that it mattered. The man had no interest whatsoever in speaking to Heather and had barely sat down before he began to fawn over the woman to his right.
“MacLauren’s a good man,” the duke said, obviously noting the direction of her gaze. “He’ll look after your sister. Baron Brookings is a bore and an idiot. She’s better off being ignored by him.”
She took her seat beside the duke and found herself staring across the table at a very pretty young lady who could only be his daughter. She and the duke had the same eyes and a similar curve of the lips. Curiously, she also resembled Dahlia’s own younger sister. There was something in Lady Melinda’s aspect that reminded her of Heather.
She turned to the duke. “I understand your daughter and I are about to undertake the decorating of your home together. Apparently, we have become fast friends.”
“Fielding told you that already, did he?” He chuckled. “Yes, I thought it was a good subterfuge.”
“Your daughter does not look like a simpering idiot. She’ll understand your game immediately. What will you do if she does not like me?”
“Miss Farthingale, simply talk to her any way you feel is right. I do not want to deceive my daughter. I only wish to make her happy. I don’t suppose there are any more Braydens left to marry off?”
“I don’t think so. Ronan is the last, as far as I know. But I will inquire. They are very good men. Do you no longer care about a title?”
“You are rubbing salt in the wound,” he said with a wince. “I will admit my mistake only this once and never again. A title is preferable, of course. But no longer required. Having strong family connections will do. But nothing less. No shopkeepers, farmers, or blacksmiths. No stable hands, horse breeders, or estate managers. I will shoot any who dare come around.”
Society being as elitist as it was, she supposed the duke did not have it in him to simply accept whomever his daughter chose to love. However, he’d taken a step forward in not ruling out military men. “But soldiers are acceptable?”
He sighed. “Yes. Indeed, I regret my mistake. I suppose not every Brayden can be an earl, although three of them are.”
“I am sorry, Your Grace. I did not mean to insult you. I simply wished to be clear on the matter. I will help your daughter if I can. I think it is commendable that you care for her happiness. But surely you must be aware that if she is in love with Captain Brayden, then my presence will make matters worse, not better for her.”
“I know. But I am terribly concerned. She has shut me out completely, and I am not used to this. We have always been very close.”
The table was long but not very wide, so the duke managed to introduce them without having to shout. They were able to engage in occasional conversation across the table. Dahlia was surprised to find Lady Melinda witty and intelligent.
She liked her. Perhaps it was because of how much she really did resemble Heather. They were similar in height and build, had the same dark hair, and even had similar gestures and laughs.
So what was going on with her?
Why was she giving her father fits by behaving so secretively?
When their feast was over, Dahlia made a point of approaching her to continue their dinner conversation, even if it was considered forward of her. She knew that she risked being given the cut direct. To her surprise, Lady Melinda was actually quite friendly. “My father rarely likes anyone,” she explained. “Nor is Captain Brayden an easy one to please. If they both like you, then perhaps there is something to you, Miss Farthingale.”
“They both have only good things to say about you, Lady Melinda. Of course, it is to be expected in a doting father.”
“What is this nonsense my father has been spouting about redecorating our home? It is much the way it was when my mother was alive. I am not keen to change anything.”
Dahlia’s heart gave a little tug. How awful it must be for an only child to lose her mother. “I am so sorry for your loss. You must have loved her dearly.”
“I did. So did my father.” Sadness reflected in her eyes. “But it was a very long time ago. Almost ten years past.”
“I expect you are missing her, particularly now.” She smiled sympathetically. “Fortunately, my mother has remained in York with my father. She is wonderful, and I love her, of course. But her advice is usually terrible. If she suggests a thing, we immediately know to do the exact opposite.”
Lady Melinda laughed. “Did she advise you to run from Lord Wainscott? She would have been right about that.”
“Alas, she gave me no guidance on him. The mistake was all my own, and I got quite the comeuppance for it. But I have a large and loving family
in London to help me get over the embarrassment. By the way, all Farthingales love to meddle. If you ever need help, please do not hesitate to ask. Offering our opinions, whether wanted or not, is something we excel at.”
“Miss Farthingale, I can see why my father and Captain Brayden like you. Even though I ought to consider you competition for his affections, I find I cannot gather even a smidgeon of resentment. I like him, mind you. But I do not love him.”
“Is there someone you do love? Someone other than the fake marquess you’ve been spreading the word about?”
She arched an eyebrow in surprise. “How do you know he is fake?”
“Because you are a beautiful woman, Lady Melinda.” Indeed, she had her father’s gray eyes, but hers were warmer, almost slate blue in color. Her hair was dark and was done up in a style that perfectly framed her pretty face. “You are also smart and witty. If he exists and you’ve set your cap for him, I don’t think he’d have the will to resist you.”
“Your Captain Brayden did not fall in love with me.”
Thank goodness. But she was not going to repeat this to Lady Melinda. “Toss in your dowry and your father’s title, and I think your marquess would have at least made his presence known. Yet he remains unseen by anyone except you.”
“Fine.” She shrugged. “If you believe there is no man, then you may report this to my father and ease his mind.”
“No, it is not my place to tell him what you are thinking or feeling. I wish you would. Just don’t lie to him. He raised you and loved you and cared for you, would give his life to protect you. Does he not deserve something better?”
She emitted a wistful sigh. “I’ll think about it.”
Dahlia did not press Lady Melinda any further on this topic. Perhaps there was no marquess, but Dahlia suspected there was someone else. What if this someone else was married? Oh, dear heaven. That would be a disaster in the making.
“Has my father invited you to our home yet? On the pretext of viewing it for our redecorating scheme? If not, I shall do so now. We are at home to visitors tomorrow. Our calling hours start at two o’clock. But do come around at one so we may have some time alone to chat.” She glanced over at Heather. “Bring your sister along, if you’d like. Who is that big Scot standing beside her? He keeps looking over at you.”
“Captain Robert MacLauren. He is best friends with Ronan and Joshua Brayden. I’m sure he’d rather be anywhere else but here watching over me.”
Lady Melinda nodded. “I see. These men look out for each other, don’t they?”
“Yes. I think this was ingrained in them during the war, to protect each other in the heat of battle. It is something that will never leave them.”
“My father’s estate manager also served in the war. He was shot and now limps because of it. I’m sure it must be painful, especially on stormy days. But he never complains about it.”
So this is the man.
“Will he be at your house tomorrow?”
She nodded. “He is always around. My father relies on him heavily. Why do you ask?”
“My Uncle George is one of the finest doctors in London. He was an army surgeon for a while, during the earlier years of the war. I’m certain he would not mind having a look at his leg. Perhaps there is something he can do.”
Her widened with excitement. “Do you think he would?”
Dahlia nodded. “Yes, most certainly.”
Lady Melinda gave her a hug, a gesture noticed by everyone in the room, including the Duke of Stoke. Well, he’d been telling everyone that she and Lady Melinda were close friends. Perhaps they would become that now. “Thank you, Miss Farthingale. I’ve been suggesting to the stubborn man this is something he ought to do. I will be forever indebted to you if you can make this come about.”
She laughed. “I have done nothing. It is my uncle who would be working this miracle, assuming anything can be done. Since this estate manager has now become the object of our meddling, what is his name?”
“James Dawson.”
Yes, this was her secret love. Dahlia could tell by the breathy way Lady Melinda said his name. Did the man know of her feelings? More important, were they reciprocated?
Heaven help them both.
What would the Duke of Stoke do when he found out?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ronan studied The Invictus listing ever so slightly in the icy waters at the mouth of Tilbury’s harbor. She was surrounded by a circle of boats. However, only the smaller vessels had been able to circumvent the massive obstruction and sail out of the harbor. The larger fishing boats were either trapped inside, unable to get out or trapped outside, unable to get in.
“Bloody, blasted mess,” Joshua muttered.
Ronan merely grunted, unwilling to say anything while they stood beside the harbormaster and the Marquess of Tilbury who had raced home like the wind to personally inspect the dung heap left at his doorstep.
Well, The Invictus was no pile of dung.
But the situation certainly could be described as that. Ronan, having been assigned to save the day, had stepped into it up to his neck.
“What’s your plan, Brayden?” the marquess asked, barely containing his rage as he stared across the harbor.
The barges had arrived. Since they were too big to maneuver around the battleship and pull up to the docks, they were now floating idly in the river. “The plan is to tow her out to sea. I’ll need to be brought to the barges first, then to The Invictus. May I commandeer one of the smaller fishing boats for this purpose? The navy will pay the man, of course.”
The marquess was still frowning. “And what of the cavalry regiment?”
“Since there is no uprising to quell, I–”
“Uprising? In my town?” The marquess was livid. “What arse ever told you that?”
“An entire cabinet ministry of arses,” Joshua retorted.
Ronan shot his brother a quelling glance. He did not need this conversation to make its way back to London and gain more enemies. “We dismissed the possibility at once, of course. But I wanted the regiment to use as muscle. We’ll have to get the ropes secured to The Invictus, among other things.”
“What other things?”
“Lord Tilbury, I do not know yet. Perhaps constructing a temporary bridge. Perhaps assisting the injured on the ship. Whatever arises.” He turned to the harbormaster. “I’ll need that small boat as soon as possible. We need to accomplish as much as we can in daylight.”
Once the harbormaster ran off to wave back one of the fishing vessels, Ronan returned his attention to the marquess. “How well do you know these waters?”
“This is my home. My family has ruled here for centuries. What do you wish to know?”
Ronan gestured to the maps in his hand. “I cannot tell how accurate these are. Where are the hidden dangers? Boulders. Sunken ships. Shoals. Other obstructions. Is the seabed soft? Once The Invictus is moved out of the shallows, she will need to keep a steady course within the deepest waters until safely out to the North Sea. Can I trust these maps? If so, which one is the most accurate?”
Ronan took a breath and let it out slowly, watching the frosty vapor trail blow out and disappear in the chill wind. “Then we need to test her seaworthiness. I would not like for her to sink before she returns to Harwich. We have the facilities there to check the damage to her hull.”
The marquess laughed. “Lord Liverpool is praying hardest she doesn’t find a watery grave. The press will roast him alive. But they’ll roast you, too. It is a pity, Brayden. You are well-liked.”
He shrugged. “I am no politician. I’d much rather be put back in command of a ship.”
“Speaking of command, who is the idiot in charge of The Invictus? It is a flagship, is it not? It must have an admiral of the fleet in command.”
Ronan winced. “It is Lord Peckham’s brother, Viscount Hawley.”
“Blessed saints! He was a schoolmate of my father’s. My father, may he rest in peace, often referr
ed to him as the vainest man alive. How can Liverpool have allowed it?” The marquess shook his head. “Never mind. It is done. Hopefully this incident will allow us to put in some reforms, start promoting men on the basis of merit instead of connections. The House of Commons is already screaming for this.”
When the fishing vessel arrived, Ronan strode onto it and was surprised when the marquess hopped aboard as well.
Joshua had no intention of being left behind, either. “My men are settled in and awaiting my orders. It is best if I have first-hand knowledge of what they’ll be required to do.”
The Marquess of Tilbury knew this fisherman. “Don’t sink us, Ralph. At least, not before we get that giant tub of lard out of our way.” They were hardly under sail before the marquess turned to Joshua. “I hear you recently married one of the Farthingale girls. Holly, is it?”
Joshua gave a reluctant nod. “Yes.”
“Tell me about her sister.”
Ronan immediately tensed. “Dahlia?”
He shook his head. “No, the other one. Heather.”
Ronan exchanged glances with his brother. Joshua, being the married one, answered for them. “Why are you asking?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I like her.” He grinned at him and Joshua. “Although I may have to rethink the family connection if this ship sinks.”
***
Since Lady Eloise Dayne had planned to call upon Lady Melinda and her father today, Dahlia asked her to serve as her chaperone and ride over earlier. She preferred not to bring Heather or involve anyone else in the family since the duke and his daughter were new acquaintances, and there was no telling what might happen if the duke found out about the estate manager.
Also, her aunt and uncle were busy planning their traditional family holiday parties. As their daughters and nieces were growing up and marrying, not to mention raising children of their own, these intimate family affairs were growing unwieldy. She did not wish to add to their burden. “His Grace has invited us for one o’clock, Eloise. He and his daughter would like some time to show me around before their other callers arrive.”
