“Certainly it can’t be at all
the thing
to reserve two dances with a lady before we are even in the ballroom, my lord,” Miss Cayson huffed.
This time, the confused look Lady Anne leveled on her friend was also disapproving. “Emily! Don’t be silly!”
The petulant look on Miss Cayson’s face came as a relief to Henry, for it revealed that the young woman was not at all skilled or accustomed in the art of politely veiled insults. It was likely that her concern for Anne and hopes for her brother were quite genuine.
“Mr. Cayson for Lady Anne,” the butler announced.
Here we go
… Henry strengthened his resolve and made sure to hold Anne’s hand to the last possible moment. When he looked up, Ben Cayson was regarding their touching fingers with a icy glare.
“Hello, Ben!” Anne smiled broadly.
“Anne, you’re looking very beautiful today.” Mr. Cayson sighed. “I will be the envy of every man we pass.”
“Stuff! I’m surrounded by teasing men!” Lady Anne said with a wave, but the rush of pink that overtook her was telling.
Henry clenched his jaw and scolded himself. He had not said a thing about her appearance. And had Cayson made a point of calling her Anne with such familiarity? “Cayson.” Henry greeted him with a nod.
“My lord,” Cayson said through his teeth. “I’m sorry to say that I will be cutting your call on Anne short. It’s fine weather for the park today.”
“It is,” Henry agreed amicably.
“Perhaps you plan to take a ride in park yourself?” Cayson ventured, his eyes hard. “People watching is always entertaining.”
Or more specifically, Henry thought, watching you. It was subtle, perhaps too subtle for most people to note, but Cayson was quite clearly suggesting that there was something Henry might wish to watch out for. The man was challenging him.
“Not at all,” Henry said with a shrug. “I have several appointments I must meet, and I cannot imagine anyone with whom Lady Anne would be in safer keeping, save one of her
brothers
.”
The comment hit its mark, and Cayson’s jaw stiffened until Henry was sure he must be grinding his teeth to bits. Cayson turned away, and when his attention rested on Anne again, his face softened. “Are you prepared to go?”
“Just a moment and I’ll fetch my hat.” She turned to Henry. “Thank you for calling this afternoon, my lord. I looked forward to seeing you again this evening.”
“And during our two dances,” Henry added.
Cayson looked away sharply.
“Yes,” Anne said sheepishly. “Good day.”
“Good day, my dear.” Henry watched as Cayson offered his arm to her and rested his other hand over hers. They departed, and Henry felt a momentary stab of guilt, for it was obvious that Cayson had sincere feelings for her. But in the time-honored tradition of selfishness bred of desperation, Henry reminded himself that Mr. Benjamin Cayson was merely the younger son of a baron, and it was unlikely that the grand Duke of Culfrey would allow his sister to marry so far below herself in any case.
“My dear Lord Brenleigh,” the duchess called. “I cannot think you would find much entertaining conversation among us old matrons, but if you care to remain awhile, I believe Lord Richard is expected.”
Henry’s eyes widened with a start. He examined the duchess’s polite smile for any sign of hidden meaning but saw none. “I thank you, madam, but I am afraid I really must be off.”
“Very well.” She shrugged. “Good day, my lord.”
“Good day, madam.”
Once outside, Henry consulted his pocket watch as if the time meant anything, then set a brisk pace toward home. His day was blessedly free of appointments.
* * * *
“My, my. A bit early to be seeking oblivion, don’t you think?”
Richard lowered the glass that had been poised at his lips. The blazing fire before him, which he had been staring into for the better part of two hours, was now partially blocked. He lifted his fuzzy vision until he made out the sneering face of Sir Samuel Shaw.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Richard spat.
“Funny thing,” Sir Samuel drawled. “One tends to frequent clubs of which one is a member. Imagine that.” He turned and dropped himself into one of the supple leather chairs that made White’s such a comfortable haven for gentlemen.
Richard was drunk, to be sure, but not nearly enough to addle his perceptions. Sir Samuel was dressed in immaculate evening wear, the ornate cravat and blue embroidered waistcoat far too good for a mere evening at White’s. Richard was drunk enough, however, to ponder on the thought that Sir Samuel would actually be a uniquely attractive man, with his dark green eyes and raven-black hair, were it not for the perpetually nasty expression on his face.
“What do you want, Shaw?” Richard snapped. “Be off with you.”
“Yes, I am off to other engagements. Glennbury’s little party, if you must know.” Sir Samuel examined him, and Richard thought his gaze on the brandy bottle next to him looked disapproving.
Like hell…
“Then what are you doing bothering me?” Richard said. “Head off to Glennbury’s and see how many gentry girls fresh from the country you can fool into thinking they might marry a baronet.”
Sir Samuel’s fingers gripped the fine leather of his chair as his gaze darted to the open doorway. “Be quiet, you damn fool!” he said in a harsh whisper.
“What? Scared, Shaw?” Richard retorted. “That would be rich coming from you. I can’t imagine it is very discreet fucking any man you please in the back room of a gaming hell.”
Sir Samuel bounded to his feet, and Richard knew he had gone too far despite the brandy flowing through his veins. They both watched the open doorway for several tense seconds until Sir Samuel walked casually to it, made a lazy examination of the hallway beyond, then closed the door quietly.
“Idiot.” Sir Samuel scowled. “Don’t tell me you’re drowning yourself in drink over that cherub Julian Garrott. He told me that the two of you had an understanding.”
“Yes, I’m sure that made all the difference to you. Forgive my lack of manners this evening, but you may go
fuck
yourself, Shaw. Why I choose to drink or do anything else is none of your concern. I have my own concerns, and they have nothing to do with you or your pathetic attempts to cuckold me.”
“Cuckold!” Sir Samuel’s eyes flashed angrily.
“You heard me. That
is
what you thought you were doing when you went with Julian, is it not? Thought you would have some sport with me.”
Richard watched, a little surprised, as Sir Samuel’s expression turned pained, then, just as quickly, turned mocking. “Ah, forgive me the intrusion,” he said and made a deep bow. “I had forgotten how incredibly
trying
your life is. The exquisite Lord Richard Avery, son of a duke, how difficult your life must be.”
“Get out,” Richard spat. He had more to say, much more he would like to say, but he had not the energy.
“Very well,” Shaw clipped. “Judging from your evening wear, I will assume that you will also be putting in an appearance for the marchioness. If you stop drinking now, you just might be able to dance well enough to fool some
peers’ daughters
into believing they will marry into a duke’s family. I will content myself with the gentry, as you say.”
With that, Sir Samuel turned on his heel and left, slamming the door soundly behind him. Richard sighed and shook his head. He had no love for Samuel Shaw, but Richard was not the type of man who used his rank or that of others as a weapon, and his veiled reference to Shaw being merely a baronet had been a low shot. But Sir Samuel always seemed determined to bring out the very worst in Richard. In fact, he seemed determined to bring out the worst in everyone.
Richard refused to give another moment’s thought to Samuel Shaw.
The Glennbury ball would have started already, and he would be glad to arrive late and miss the dreary crawl of the reception line. He had one of the footmen call for his carriage and, a few minutes later, was seated in its velvet confines and moving across London.
How the evening would form itself, he was not certain, but Richard knew that his resolve had not lessened one bit. Henry would be there, as well as Anne and the young Mr. Cayson. He simply had to find a way to push Anne in Cayson’s direction. But that was just one side of his approach. While he pushed Anne away from Henry, he hoped—ah, yes, he
hoped!
—that he could pull Henry closer to him.
The Glennbury mansion was a sight to behold, and the annual ball that the widowed marchioness had thrown for as long as anyone could remember was always a resounding success. It was said that the marchioness was an eccentric old bird who loved a good intrigue, and that was why she always made her balls a perfect setting for cozy tête-à-têtes and easy escapes. The entire house blazed with candles and crackling hearths, with every room being open and available for the guests to stroll through, save the private family bedrooms on the upper floors. It was the ton’s paradise.
Richard ascended the grand central staircase, even more impressive than the one that graced his brother’s ducal mansion, and entered a glittering ballroom packed near to capacity. Despite the squeeze of people and the noise of conversation, his eagle-eyed hostess did not miss his arrival.
The marchioness was a tiny slip of a woman in her early fifties, with iron-gray hair and a complexion so fine one wondered if she had ever been outside during the day.
“Lord Richard,” the marchioness said, drawing out every vowel. “Fashionably late. You know, if
everyone
arrives late to functions, aren’t they really on time?”
“You are too philosophical for me, ma’am.” Richard smirked. “Besides, I cannot blame fashion. I am merely a slovenly young fool who cannot keep his watch properly wound.”
“Young and a fool, yes, but slovenly?” The marchioness looked him over. “I hardly think so. When
do
you plan to end your rakish ways and take a wife? You see, with your dear mama no longer with us, I have no choice but to harass you in her stead.”
“Rakish? Ma’am, I am insulted.” He grinned.
“In a pig’s eye.” She grinned right back. “But I jest with you, to be sure. You’ll have no meddling from me. I was blessed with three sons and never had to worry myself about becoming one of those odious marriage-minded mamas. Enjoy yourself while you can, my boy. Your brother and sister are already here.”
“I expect so. Thank you, ma’am.” He bowed over her hand and made to turn.
“Oh, yes! And I met your sister’s betrothed. Fine young man. It pains me to see some of the beautiful gentlemen who rusticate off in the countryside and never show their faces in town. Old Brenleigh was such a squire, you know.”
Richard made an effort to keep his face impassive. “Betrothed? There was an announcement?”
“By no means, but I know how these things work,” she assured him, tapping the side of her delicate nose. “Old Culfrey arranged it is my guess, eh? Just as well, if a little old-fashioned.”
“I’m sure the match will prosper,” Richard said flatly, for despite all his intentions to the contrary, he had to appear to support the match. “I believe I will be off to the card room for a bit before I give the marriage-minded mamas anything to swoon over.”
The marchioness released a high, tittering laugh and immediately scooped up another passing guest. Richard made his escape into the corridor that skirted the grand arches leading into the ballroom. There was no telling where Henry was in the crush of people, but Richard was sure he would spot that head of beautiful golden curls before too long. He was about to make his way into the more sedate card room, where mixed company were playing hands of whist, when he felt a soft grip slide over his hand.
“Julian,” Richard said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Julian’s delicate, boyish features formed into a bemused smile. “I do often attend balls, Richard, I assure you.”
“Yes,” Richard said, kicking himself. He opened his mouth, but even the reliable references to the weather or the assembled people eluded him. He had not prepared himself for this.
Julian shifted his feet and glanced around them. He was dressed, as always, in superb elegance, his blue satin evening coat hugging his trim figure to perfection. He took a step forward and whispered, “The room at the end of the corridor is empty, I believe. May we talk?”
Richard most certainly did not want to talk, but he was not a negligent man, and he owed Julian at least that. They made their way confidently down the hall, for there was nothing curious about two gentlemen secluding themselves for a private word, and entered a small morning room that the family appeared to use for artistic endeavors. There was a screen frame for silhouette drawing and an easel near the fireplace. Richard quietly closed the door behind them. A single branch of candles lit the room.
“Julian, I…” Richard let his shoulders slump. Damn, but he had not even thought about this!
“You were so angry when you left my carriage,” Julian said. “I was worried and then… Well, you haven’t responded to my letter.”
Damnation!
Richard shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry. I meant to, truly, but…I have just been beset from all directions, it seems.”
“Yes, Lady Anne’s come out. When I didn’t receive a response, I just assumed…” Julian trailed off, nodding. He swallowed and brought his hand to the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.
Oh, God, Julian. Don’t…
“I would like us to remain friends,” Richard said quickly.
“Friends. Yes,” Julian muttered and nodded several more times. He swallowed again and raised his hand to his eyes.
“Julian, please…” Richard came toward him, his hand out, but Julian rallied himself instantly and stepped away.
“I understand.” Julian laughed, and his face practically cracked with the strain of a false smile. “It was what I expected. I said as much in my letter, you know.”
“Yes,” Richard said miserably. Julian could try to cover it, but the very smile on his face spoke nothing but hurt.
“We just want different things,” Julian continued. He seemed to suddenly find the buttons on his cuffs fascinating and made a careless laugh. “I…I have no wish to be fed from one menu anyway, you know.”