He looked taken aback. “What would you have had me do, Miss Shevington? Read Lord Tradesforke’s mind and know what he was going to say? I suppose you wanted me to place the man you wanted Sophia to partner with right beside her.”
“Well, it would have been perfectly lovely if you could have accomplished that, of course.”
“June,” Mae said. “You are being too hard on Sir Randolph.”
“He could have, at the very least, asked Lord Bighampton or that fine-looking Lord Hargraves to trade with Mr. Brentwood.”
“I can do no such thing.”
“But Mr. Brentwood is not titled.”
“I’m aware of that, Miss Shevington, but she’s not marrying him, she’s just partnering with him for the day.”
“But that’s another thing. What if the sun is shining? She can’t possibly spend all day outside. She’ll get more freckles.”
Sophia’s hand flew to her cheek.
“More freckles will only add to her beauty,” he answered. “Now, I suggest you leave Sophia alone so she can enjoy the rest of the party. Come with me.”
“Where?” June asked.
“I’m going to get you a glass of champagne so you can calm your rattled nerves.”
“What? I’ll have you know my nerves are not rattled. I’m just trying to do what is best for Sophia.”
Sir Randolph took hold of June’s elbow and ushered her away while she was still complaining. Sophia looked at her aunt Mae, and they started laughing like tickled schoolgirls.
“June is very upset,” Mae said after getting her laughter under control. “You know we’ll hear about this all the way home tonight.”
“Not if Sir Randolph gets her to drink enough champagne to make her sleepy.”
They laughed again.
Sophia said, “Now, while Sir Randolph has Aunt June occupied, let’s you and I walk around and find the handsome Mr. Alfred Boyd and Mr. Parker Wilson and see if we can coerce them into asking to call on you.”
Mae smiled. “You mean you.”
“Yes, but for you.”
Suddenly Sophia felt wonderful. She was going to spend an entire day in Mr. Brentwood’s company. He may not be happy about it, because of her connection to Sir Randolph, but she was. She intended to enjoy every moment she could with Mr. Brentwood before she had to become another man’s bride.
Ten
Though this be madness, yet there is a method in’t.
—William Shakespeare
Matson strode through his front door, taking off his damp greatcoat. There had been a fine drizzle all afternoon, and he was glad finally to be out of it. He must have gotten in and out of his carriage more than half a dozen times.
What a hell of a day he had had. It was maddening to feel as if there was something he needed to do or something he needed to know about his brother. It was unusual for him to feel restless, uneasy for so long. Perhaps it was because if he wasn’t thinking that his brother needed him, he was thinking about Sophia.
“Let me help you with that, sir,” Buford said, hurrying down the corridor toward him.
“I have it,” Matson said, pulling the sleeves off his arms.
Since returning to England, Matson was still trying to get used to having a valet. They weren’t as common in Baltimore, but in London any man of means was expected to have a dresser, a cook, and a housekeeper to see to his every need. There were still times he questioned his move back to England. His life in America was much simpler.
“You had several callers while you were out today,” Buford said, ignoring Matson’s refusal to allow him to help shed the coat.
Matson stuffed the garment into Buford’s arms and then did the same with his hat and gloves. “Callers as in more than one?” he questioned.
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s odd. I’ve been in London more than half a year, and I can count on one hand the number of visits I’ve had during that time, other than from my brothers.”
Buford laid the outerwear aside and picked up a small silver tray from a side table. “I’m aware of that, sir. But today you had two earls, a viscount, and four gentlemen of lesser nobility knock on your door.”
The unease Matson had felt all day grew. He’d awakened with a restless feeling. Usually when he felt that way he’d find that something out of the ordinary was going on with Iverson. When he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling by midday, he went looking for his brother but hadn’t found him at home. Matson then went to the usual clubs he frequented and back to Iverson’s home again, where he left word that he was looking for him. Matson wouldn’t rest easy until he’d heard back from his brother.
“Did any of the gentlemen mention why they wanted to see me?”
“No, sir, only that they would call again at another time.”
“What about my brother? Did he stop by?”
“I’ve not seen him today, sir. But Sir Randolph Gibson stopped by to see you. He appeared quite anxious to speak with you as soon as possible and asked if he could wait for you. If it’s not convenient for you to see him at this time, I can ask him to make an appointment and come at a later time.”
Matson frowned. “He’s here?”
“Yes, sir. I lit a fire in the drawing room. I opened a fresh bottle of port and offered it to him. I laid out the afternoon news sheets for him to peruse while he waited.”
Matson’s breath kicked up a notch. “Get rid of him.”
Matson put his booted foot on the bottom stair, and Sophia crossed his mind. A pang of something he didn’t recognize stabbed through his chest. This man was the reason why he couldn’t pursue Sophia.
“Buford, wait. I’ll see him.”
“Yes, sir. Can I do anything else for you?”
“No, that will be all.”
Matson walked into the drawing room and saw Sir Randolph standing in front of the fire. A look of relief washed down the man’s face. Obviously there had been some fear that he might have been thrown out of the house when Matson came home, and that thought gave Matson a little perverse pleasure.
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Brentwood.”
“It was difficult not to, since you were already in my house.” Matson walked farther into the room. He didn’t bother to ask Sir Randolph to take a seat or offer him a drink, as the efficient valet had done.
“Then perhaps it was my lucky day you were out when I arrived.”
“I won’t argue with that. What do you want?”
“I’ve never been one to meddle in anyone’s business.”
Sir Randolph paused just long enough for Matson to say, “It wouldn’t be wise to start with mine.”
The dapper old man chuckled softly. “I must. The thief who stole Sophia’s brooch and now Lord Tradesforke’s shenanigans with this May Day Fair Day event have brought you and my ward together.”
“I had no control over either of those things.”
“Oh, I’m aware of that, but still I must take action.”
Matson frowned. “What, or maybe I should say why?”
“Sophia’s future was settled a long time ago.”
“You’re mistaken if you think I’ve made claims on the young lady.”
“I’m not mistaken, and I feel I must make you aware that she will marry a title.”
The hair on the back of Matson’s neck prickled. For some reason that comment from the man rankled more than his previous remarks. “You seem so certain on that.”
“I am. Her attributes are spotless, and her inheritance is legendary, since she is not only her father’s heir, but she will be mine too.”
“That is of no interest to me.”
“But these things must be said. She is the daughter I never had. I will guide her in her choices while she is on the mart, but she made a vow to her father on his deathbed that she would marry a title. I have known Sophia all her life. She won’t go back on her word.”
Matson didn’t have to be told that. She might be adventurous and want her f
irst kiss from a stranger, but she wasn’t flighty. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between you and me.”
Matson chortled. “Misunderstandings between us? Considering your affair with my mother, that’s quite laughable, don’t you think?”
“I meant concerning Sophia.” The old man shielded his eyes with his lashes for a moment. “I’ve never talked about your mother with anyone.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better about your affair with her?”
“No, but perhaps I owe you an explanation.”
Matson stiffened. He wanted to tell the old man he didn’t owe him a damn thing, and he didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, but Matson couldn’t get the words out.
“There was no long affair between us. No pining or unrequited love. It was a night when opportunity presented itself, and it just happened. There was nothing we could do to stop it. Your mother was a beautiful and gracious lady. That is all I have ever said about her and all I will ever say. I’ll take anyone to task who argues differently.”
“Do you really think I want to hear about you and my mother?”
“You do for this reason: I won’t have you seeking revenge on Sophia for something I’m guilty of.”
Matson finally understood why Sir Randolph had come to see him. But if Sir Randolph thought he was going to put his mind entirely to rest, he had another thought coming. Why shouldn’t he needle the man just a little?
“You know what they say about that, don’t you, Sir Randolph?”
“What’s that?”
“There are two things a man will wait forever for—love and revenge.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed and darkened. “Those words trouble me, Mr. Brentwood.”
“Do they?”
“I will protect Sophia at all cost and however is necessary.”
Matson didn’t doubt that. “I will put your fears to rest for now. I have no desire to have designs on anyone connected to you, and that includes Miss Hart. If it is fate that has brought us together, I will rely on fate to separate us. Furthermore, Sir Randolph, I’m outraged you think I’d stoop so low as to take revenge on an innocent young lady for your wrongdoings. If I wanted revenge, I’d go straight to you.”
Sir Randolph nodded once. “I’m a man of my word, Mr. Brentwood. I’ll take you at your word.” He then walked past Matson and out of the room.
Matson walked over to the glowing fire. His stomach felt as if it was in knots. He held out his hands and felt the warmth and huffed out a deep, sighing breath. What he’d told Sir Randolph was true. God help him, he didn’t want to have any desire for Sophia Hart, but he did. And as much as he hated to admit it, he respected Sir Randolph for wanting to guard her.
Matson rolled his shoulders and massaged the back of his neck. He turned from the fire and untied his neckcloth, dropping it and his collar onto the settee. It didn’t matter what he’d said to Sir Randolph, he didn’t know what he was going to do about Miss Hart. So quickly, she had charmed him to the point he didn’t want to dance with any other ladies. He went to parties just in hopes of seeing her, having a conversation with her. He delighted in teasing and frustrating her. He loved to provoke her with a question and then watch her fidget. She was so tempting when she was trying to explain something that was unexplainable, like kissing.
But he couldn’t forget the fact that she was Sir Randolph’s ward. Matson had had a delightful time with her last night at Lord Tradesforke’s party, until he saw Sir Randolph standing with her aunts. The man would always be a part of her life, and Matson sure as hell didn’t want that man in his life.
It didn’t surprise him that Sophia wanted to be the bride of a titled man—as if a title made a gentleman a better man. All it did was make her seem weak and shallow, but on the surface or deep inside, she didn’t appear that way to Matson.
What was he going to do about this May Day Fair Day that Lord Tradesforke had concocted? Matson was having a hard enough time staying away from her as it was. In truth, the last thing he needed was to be her partner for a day. He didn’t need anything to make him more attracted to her than he already was. Was it in his best interests to stay as far away from her as possible, or could he continue to flirt with her and not lose his heart?
Matson’s gaze swept across the drawing room of the leased town house. There was very little furniture in the room and nothing that he owned. He thought back to Sir Randolph’s and Lord Tradesforke’s residences. Their homes were filled with things that represented their lives, where they’d been, what had caught their attention, and what intrigued them enough to want to see it every day.
Matson was almost thirty. Perhaps it was time he started looking for a house to buy and start filling it with things that gave him pleasure. He’d returned to England to make his birthplace his home, and more than six months later, he’d done nothing to make that happen.
He turned back to face the warmth of the fire and to stare into the dancing, crackling flames.
“Don’t tell me I’ve caught you daydreaming.”
Matson looked up to see Iverson standing in the doorway. A feeling of relief washed down him.
“Where have you been? I called at your home twice, and looked at all the clubs and couldn’t find you.”
Iverson walked into the room. “You sound disturbed. What’s wrong?”
“With me?” Matson countered. “Nothing, but I had this odd feeling when I woke this morning that you needed me, and it’s been with me all day. I haven’t been able to shake it.”
Iverson chuckled. “Don’t tell me that after all these years you’re finally giving in to that old myth that twins know when the other is in trouble.”
Matson ignored his comment and said, “So something is wrong.”
“Plenty was wrong this morning, which is probably why you were feeling as you did. But not anymore.”
Matson didn’t trust his brother’s words. Something wasn’t right with him.
“What happened?”
“I won’t give details, but I will say it’s been a long time since I’ve had to jump out of a bedroom window.”
Matson muttered a laugh. “So did she throw you out, or did you almost get caught?”
“A little of both, as I recall, and I was damned lucky not to hurt my ankle. All is well now.”
“I’m not so sure it is, if you jumped from the window of the young lady I’m thinking about.”
“No, everything is fine now.”
“All right. Good. I’m glad to know that. Let’s go over to White’s for a game of billiards.”
“And have you shake me down for a few shillings? No, dear Brother, I know how good you’ve gotten. I think I’ll keep my blunt.”
“Fine, we’ll play cards, and you can win a few coins from me.”
“That’s a tempting offer, but I can’t do it this afternoon. I’m here for another reason.”
Matson remained standing in front of the fireplace and watched Iverson walk over to the sideboard and pour a splash of port into two glasses. His brother might indicate nothing was wrong, but Matson knew better. Something was up with him.
“Good or bad?” Matson asked.
“I’ll let you decide that for yourself after I tell you.”
“Then share it.”
Iverson handed Matson a glass. “I wanted you to be the first—no, that would be second—person to hear that I’m getting married next week. I want you to be there.”
Matson wasn’t certain he heard Iverson correctly. “I think you better say that again and slower this time.”
Iverson laughed. “There’s no need. You heard me correctly. I’m getting married. I just came from applying for the special license.”
“Miss Crisp?”
“You know there is no other.”
This worried Matson. There was bad blood between Iverson and her father. “So you did get caught in her bedroom?”
“No. No
one saw me leave, and no one will ever know I spent the night with her.”
“But you still feel obligated to marry her?”
Iverson’s face tightened quickly. “I am not marrying her out of obligation.”
“I knew you were smitten with her, but marriage? Are you sure?”
“Damn sure. I’m marrying her because I love her, not because I feel I have to make her my wife.”
Matson winced. “What about her father? You know how you feel about the man.”
“I’ve already talked to him, and he agreed to the marriage.”
“You found the man? You never told me.”
“He finally came home today while I was with Catalina, well, never mind that. That’s a detail best left unsaid. Her father heard I’d been looking for him, so actually he found me.”
“How did that go?”
“Better than I thought. I still don’t like the man. I probably will never like him. But we managed to have somewhat of a friendly talk about his writings, and we see eye to eye on that now.”
“Are you sure it was friendly?”
“Close enough. After we settled that, I asked for his daughter’s hand, and he agreed. I will send a letter to Brent as soon as I get home, in hopes he and Gabrielle can make it in time for the wedding. Catalina and I are well suited for each other. We are sure of our feelings. There’s no reason for us to wait to be together.”
“In that case, congratulations.” Matson held up his glass and said, “Here’s to wedded bliss.”
***
The taproom at White’s was busy, loud, and just what Matson had needed. He’d played so many games of billiards, his back was aching from bending over the table.
He stood at the crowded bar, elbow to elbow between two gentlemen he didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Occasionally they would talk around him or over him, but they had long since not tried to engage him. After Iverson had left his house, Matson had decided to skip all the scheduled parties for the evening. He simply wasn’t up to gliding young ladies around a dance floor or listening to them chatter. And, he was forcing himself not to think about Sophia. He’d come to the club to drink and play billiards, and that’s what he’d done, and done well. His ears were buzzing, his eyes felt dry, and his pockets were heavy with coins.
Amelia Grey - [Rogues' Dynasty 06] Page 11
