“Oh! Ben, may I introduce you to Lord Brenleigh. My lord, this is Mr. Benjamin Cayson. His sister Emily and I are great friends.”
Henry nodded with a feeling of weary unease. Mr. Cayson nodded with a barely concealed look of contempt.
Wonderful
. Henry sighed.
“I must extend my regrets for not being able to attend your coming-out, Anne,” Mr. Cayson said mournfully. “I would have enjoyed being there, only Mother insisted that I spend the whole evening at my cousin Kate’s ball.”
“It was the same night, yes,” Anne replied. “But my ball was a terrible crush, in any case.”
“I can’t imagine it would have been anything else, considering in whose honor it was thrown,” he replied. It sounded like a tossed-off compliment, typical to the genteel manners of society, but Henry observed the man’s eyes fix on Anne in a kind of painful contemplation. The look was gone as quickly as it had come.
Henry opened his mouth to make some customary and dull observation about the weather, when another horse trotted up alongside Mr. Cayson. Richard raised his crop in a polite salute.
“Cayson, there you are,” Richard called jovially. “Was hoping I would run into you here.”
Henry’s eyes widened.
Hoping
to run into Cayson, indeed!
“You were?” Mr. Cayson’s jaw was a little slack as he regarded Richard, the
illustrious
Lord Richard Avery, who was actually speaking to him as if on the friendliest of terms.
“Of course. Who else?” Richard boomed. “Truth is, I’ve come in possession of a lovely volume of verse, old as dirt, as I would like to get your opinion on it.”
Henry frowned and watched the two closely, Richard’s expansive smile and Mr. Cayson’s rather confused awe.
“What volume is it, my lord?” Mr. Cayson asked. “I would be only too happy to take a look, if you think I—”
“Let’s just say that if I told you here, in the vicinity of so many ears, I might find my library ransacked by this evening.”
Mr. Cayson’s mouth fell open like a fish’s, while Henry almost stomped his foot in frustration. What the hell was Richard playing at? He could imagine the absurd possibilities floating through Mr. Cayson’s mind. An original Shakespeare folio? A first printing of
The Divine Comedy?
To Henry’s relief, Mr. Cayson made a quick but effusive farewell of Anne and trotted farther along in Richard’s company. Henry craned his neck to watch them as they moved off the path and began talking.
“Ben is very much a lover of books,” Anne said. “He has the most beautiful illustrated copy of
La Vita Nuova
. He read a few lines for me and Emily in the original Italian, although I understood it very little. I…” She trailed off, then seemed to shrug away the thought.
“I am familiar with it,” Henry replied. “Though I am afraid my Italian is also rather poor.”
Further conversation was unnecessary for a time, as they came alongside another carriage and were engaged in introductions and idle talk of upcoming social events. All the while, Henry kept his gaze across the park. Richard and Mr. Cayson were catching up with them now. They seemed to reach the end of their discussion and intended to part ways, for Cayson turned his mount to leave, when Richard suddenly came to his side again and spoke. He pointed, Henry was certain, at Anne.
Henry felt a mounting anger and unease as Cayson made a startled expression, smiled, then set his horse directly for them.
Damn him, what is he doing?
Once again, Mr. Cayson rode alongside their carriage. This time, he leaned down and took polite possession of Lady Anne’s hand. She smiled up at him.
“Forgive me, Lady Anne, but if my servants did not say my name a hundred times a day, I would forget that too. I meant to invite you for a ride tomorrow at this same hour. I think you would cut quite a dash atop my new curricle.”
Lady Anne swallowed hard and glanced at Henry, but since it was not at all out of place for a lady to accept such invitations, and often, she smiled and said, “I would be delighted, Ben! I had no idea you were an accomplished whip.”
At that, the young man made a rueful smile. “I shall leave it to your good opinion if I deserve to be called accomplished or merely competent. Tomorrow, my lady.”
She waved him good-bye, not at all noticing the rather direct stare Richard shot at him, then turned back to Henry.
“What a thing,” she said airily. “I had no idea Ben even had a curricle.”
Henry looked across the field and met Richard’s sparking black eyes. Richard smiled broadly and bowed.
“Perhaps he acquired it only recently,” Henry replied.
Very recently.
RICHARD HAD NOT gone to the park with any plan of meeting Ben Cayson, but the sight of his somber face, still plump with youthful fat despite his twenty-three years, was an opportunity Richard had not been able ignore. He only regretted now that he would have to find the nearest rare bookstore and purchase something suitably impressive and expensive to put some truth to his lie.
“I swear, my secretary tells me it is worth some good coin,” Richard said, almost conspiratorially. He knew, like most, that Benjamin Cayson was a heady and romantic young man who lived for books.
“I am eager to see it,” Mr. Cayson said, his eyes widening. “If only you could at least remember the author…”
“Oh, I knew it, but it’s just flown out of my head.” Richard waved his hand dismissively. Scholarly men like Cayson often liked to think that popular Corinthian types like Richard had hardly an educated thought in their heads, and Richard saw no reason not to use such assumptions to his advantage now.
“Just as well, since I must see it anyway to give you my opinion,” Cayson said, beaming. He was a popular young man, but his interests were considered rather dull by most men of his age, so no doubt Richard’s attention was coming as a pleasant surprise. “Tomorrow, my lord?”
“Just the thing.” But Richard was not finished with young Cayson yet. When he had ridden up, watching the interaction between Cayson and Anne, he had been shocked to see the look of hostility that Cayson had leveled at Henry. The young fool did not know how to hide his emotions, but the sight had put an idea into Richard’s head, an idea that he had never considered before.
Benjamin Cayson… Well, why not?
“Hold, Ben!” Richard called. He saw Cayson’s look of delighted surprise at the familiar address as he rode back again.
“Listen,” Richard began. “I think it would not at all be unwelcome if you were to invite Lady Anne to ride with you in the park tomorrow.”
Cayson’s cheeks colored. “I… How do you mean?”
“Come now, man. You have feelings for her, do you not?”
“My lord, I hope you don’t think that I ever… That is, Lady Anne is at my father’s house often enough when she visits Emily, but I assure you I have never said or done
anything
in her regard that was not entirely proper!”
“Calm, man!” Richard chuckled and slapped his shoulder. “In all honesty, I don’t care much for this Lord Brenleigh, and I have no wish to see my sister unhappy. You are not to utter a word to anyone, but…” Here, he looked around as if searching for eavesdroppers. “It is an arranged match, cold as the paper it was written on.”
The hard look that came into Mr. Cayson’s eyes told Richard that he had struck his mark. He could just imagine the man’s romantic sensibilities pokering up with outrage.
“But…” Cayson fumbled. “It is not at all the thing to invite a lady to an outing
while
she is with someone else, is it? And I am just…”
The younger son of a mere baron, Richard thought with some concern.
“What of it?” Richard said scornfully. “You are a gentleman and have a tidy fortune, I understand.”
The confidence in Richard’s attitude seemed to infect Cayson, and he turned his eyes back toward Henry’s carriage with a look of open longing. “All right. I…I think I will! Oh, dash it! I don’t have my own curricle. Perhaps Eddie will let me borrow—”
“You will take mine, and I will not hear a word of objection,” Richard said, grinning.
“I say, Avery! That’s mighty fine of you!” Cayson said. “I must be off to catch them. Thank you!”
Richard watched from his place on the lawn as Cayson rode back to Anne’s side. He almost burst out laughing when he saw that Cayson did not so much as look at Henry, let alone acknowledge him with any words. The silent play was over quickly, with Anne accepting brightly and Henry staring in impotent confusion. Eventually, however, Henry’s eyes found Richard’s across the field.
Don’t hate me, Henry. This is for your own good.
Richard smiled, removed his hat, and made an elaborate bow. When he raised his eyes again, Henry had turned his back.
With the fortunate addition of Mr. Cayson taken care of, Richard returned to his original plan. He needed to get Henry alone so he could speak to him and make him listen. To that end, he made his circuit of the park and conversed with various acquaintances as if it were any normal afternoon, though he was forced to field some haughty observations about the disgraceful state of his clothes. All the while he kept a keen eye on Henry’s carriage and noted the moment it pulled through the gate and out of the park. Richard rode back to Avery House by a different route, moving as fast as he could while managing to outrun the angry shouts of startled cart merchants. He stopped at the corner in sight of his brother’s house and waved down a young page who appeared to be returning from some errand.
“You there, lad!”
“Yes, milord?” The boy looked up in awe.
Richard leaped down and fished three shillings from his coat pocket. “See here, be a good lad and take this horse to the public stables just on the next street over. Do you know it? Good. Tell them Lord Richard Avery’s man will collect him later today. Understand?”
The boy eyed the extravagant fortune of three whole shillings and grinned. “Yes, milord! Right away!”
The boy took the reins and set off at a run to the great stallion’s leisurely walk. Richard stood at the corner and waited. As soon as he saw Henry’s white phaeton come round the corner up ahead, he began to walk.
Henry helped Lady Anne down to the sidewalk as a footman took hold of the reins. Henry was speaking to her and saying something that left her in bright smiles, which only strengthened Richard’s purpose. Anne said her good-byes and just passed into the house when Richard came bounding up.
“Hello there, Henry!” Richard boomed as he came jogging up. “Just getting back with Anne, I see. Hope she didn’t talk your head off!”
Henry regarded him with a look that spoke confusion and blinding outrage. His grip on the carriage seat looked almost painful.
“Yes. Just now,” Henry muttered, glancing up the steps to the mansion doors.
“I hate to put you out, you know, but my horse threw a shoe in the park, and I was forced to have a boy take him to the smith. I don’t suppose you would be willing to give me a ride over to St. James?”
Richard knew he sounded like a pompous ass, but he had to leave Henry little choice. Richard knew Henry would not willingly grant him a private audience in any case, so he was reduced to this.
Henry’s startled gaze moved to the footman and the butler, who were still standing at the top of the stairs. He forced a smile like broken glass and said, “Of course. No trouble at all.”
“Excellent.” Richard sailed past Henry to climb onto the plush red velvet seat and made a cavalier show of consulting his pocket watch. Henry climbed up next to him without a word and took a brutal grip on the reins.
It was several miles to St. James Street, allowing plenty of time for the silent atmosphere between them to grow thick as mud. Henry’s gaze remained forward in a fix of blazing emotion. Whether of fury or fear, Richard was uncertain.
“I will not take an invitation into your house, so you had best say what you will now,” Henry said through clenched teeth.
Richard drew a breath and wondered where to begin—Anne or the horrible incident at the ball? Unfortunately, he made the wrong choice. “It is impossible for you to think of marrying Anne.”
“That…that is not really any of your concern.”
“None of my concern!” Richard stared at him. “She is my sister, for God’s sake, and you are—”
“The whore you bedded in a brothel? Yes, I suppose that
would
make me an unfortunate suitor in your opinion,” Henry spat miserably.
“Bloody hell!”
Henry pulled at the reins suddenly, directing his team to veer right under a deep stone archway. They emerged into a small courtyard. Richard looked around at the aged and obviously uninhabited structure with tense curiosity before he realized that they had pulled into the old Fowler Girls’ Seminary, which had sat vacant for at least the past five years.
“Why are we here?” Richard demanded.
“I own this old pile, or didn’t you know?” Henry secured the reins and leaped down to the cobbles. “The
Earl of Brenleigh
is a very wealthy man with extensive holdings, even if he does elicit disgust and regret in some.”
“No!” Richard jumped down from the seat and rounded the carriage. “Listen to me!”
Henry eyed the archway and the bustling street beyond. Richard read his thoughts, for the courtyard only helped to magnify their voices. Henry turned and marched toward a narrow door at the top of a small flight of stairs, shoving it open with enough force to make the frame rattle. Richard followed him into a musty wood-paneled room, bare of even a single movable object. Beams of light from the afternoon sun cast rivers of dust in the air.
Richard closed the door behind him. “
Please
. I do not think of you that way. I never said that.”
Henry turned near the massive stone hearth, his gaze on the floor. As if speaking to himself, he whispered, “Everything was so perfect, and now it’s ruined.”
No
. In that moment Richard wanted nothing more than to pull Henry into his arms and cast away any doubts about that night. Regrets? Dear God! He had
lived
off the memories of that night for days afterward. He had mourned—for he was now certain that was the appropriate word—his loss of Henry in the park that day when he feared he would never see him again. So lost was Richard in his turbulent thoughts that he could not express any of them. Instead, he merely fell back on his assertion.