Authors: Ruth J. Hartman
Oh to return to those days of blissful innocence.
He penned the note, adding at the bottom that he wished to speak with Oliver at his earliest convenience. It would not be a pleasant conversation, to be sure, but it was a necessary one. And that was only if Oliver agreed to see him. Conrad wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.
Weak sunlight peeked through slightly parted drapes and cast warmth on Conrad’s face as he stood. He rounded the desk and crossed to the door, intent upon having his message delivered promptly. As he swung the door open, he startled. His mother stood just on the other side with her hand raised in a fist, as if to knock.
“
I was just coming to see you, Conrad.”
“
Apparently.”
She slid a glance to the paper in his hand. “What have you got there?”
Conrad nearly rolled his eyes, but stopped himself. It hadn’t worked out for him very well the week before when he’d done so prior to having his tooth removed. “It’s nothing. Just business.”
Her boot tapped the floor. “Your father used to confide some of his business dealings to me, you know.”
If she was hinting that Conrad do the same, she’d be disappointed. “Of that I’m well aware.” He looked down the hall. Where was Giles? His grasp tightened on the note.
“
I know we’re having money issues.” His mother stepped closer. “Do you know that last week the milliner refused to make me a new hat? Me! Lady Lofton. I was mortified. Knowing him, everyone in London will already have heard and will speculate as to why.”
Her finger poked his chest on the last word. How he
hated
when she did that.
“
I’m in a rush, Mother, was there something specific you needed to discuss?”
Besides your need for yet another hat we can’t afford?
“
What’s the hurry?”
“
I have things to which I must attend.”
“
But—”
Conrad brushed past her. Yes it was rude, but sometimes the woman understood nothing else. Perhaps because she was that way herself.
And am I not the same?
“Excuse me, but I must be going.”
He hurried down the hall. Where was his butler? He didn’t want to call out for him though, or his mother would know something was up. Peeking in doorways didn’t produce Giles, either. Conrad continued down the hallway. And stopped. What was that noise? It sounded like… giggling? The sound emanated from a closet. Hmmm. Surprise would be the most efficient way to curb any unwanted behavior, but Giles was known to be a ladies’ man. Conrad had no desire to fling open the door and see more than he’d bargained for.
He settled for knocking lightly.
Nothing happened, except the giggling continued.
He rapped harder.
All sound stopped from behind the door.
“
Giles, are you in there?”
A pause. “Uh… no?”
Exasperated, Conrad clenched his teeth, causing a dull ache across his jaw. His mouth didn’t hurt as much now, but direct pressure still wreaked havoc. He took a deep breath and waited for the pain to subside. Then he leaned closer to the door.
“
Giles, please open the door.”
“
I… I can’t.”
More giggling.
“
Giles.
”
Laughter, and what sounded like thrashing about inside the small enclosure, followed. Were they getting dressed?
Good heavens!
Conrad took a step back when the doorknob turned. The door opened with a creak.
Giles emerged along with one of the new chambermaids. Susan, or Sally. Something with an S. “Yes, my lord?” The butler’s shirt was hanging askew and his face was red.
A tiny spark of jealousy coursed through Conrad. At least someone in the house was having a pleasant diversion with a pretty woman. He shook off the thought. “I need you to have this note delivered immediately. It cannot wait.” He flicked a glance to the girl. “For anything.”
Giles bobbed his head and straightened his shirt. “Yes, my lord. Right away.” He took the note from Conrad’s outstretched hand and hurried down the hall. The Susan-Sally person curtseyed and all but ran the other direction.
Conrad let out a whoosh of air. He hoped Oliver Shipley would consent to see him. Soon. So many things depended on it. Even if he agreed to see Conrad, though, would he agree to his request?
What Conrad would ask was risky and bold. Oliver had every reason to refuse and no reason to agree.
Yet… Oliver was one of those men who was honest and straightforward. A decent sort. Something Conrad had never been. Something he’d never witnessed growing up. Not with his father. And certainly not with Mother.
But that was no excuse. Things needed to change. Had to. Or Conrad would end up bitter and alone.
He peered around the empty, silent hallway.
Isn’t that how I already am?
Sadness warred with guilt from past deeds.
But the change must begin with me
. What would happen if Oliver refused him? No. Conrad must convince him, somehow, that he wished to change. Wished to turn his wretched life around.
He walked to the parlor. The heavy green drapes were closed, blocking any possible sun from entering the room. Just how his mother preferred it. He grasped one side of the fabric and tugged to the side. Bright light poured in and he squinted against it.
He stepped closer until his nose was only an inch from the glass. A grimace formed on his face. Grass. Dirt. Insects. Dust. All sorts of vermin and disgusting creatures inhabited the out-of-doors. His mother’s voice echoed through his mind from years past.
“
Conrad, stay indoors. Only ruffian boys play in the dirt.”
“
Don’t bring that filthy cat into this house. Who knows what kind of diseases it has from eating disgusting birds.”
“
You’ll soil your white handkerchief if you don’t stay in the house. You know I prefer you to stay spotless in appearance.”
“
Look what you’ve done! You’ve gotten mud on your boots. Mud! Take them off this instant, and we shall buy you new boots right away.”
Words from years past?
Who am I fooling? She said some of those words just last week.
A movement from several feet away diverted his attention. A bird, ugly and vile with mottled brown markings. A shiver ran through Conrad at the memory of being assaulted by a common cuckoo at the Bird Sanctuary. What a horrid day that had been. He’d gone after Lucy to try to keep her away from Oliver. To no avail. Those two were meant for each other.
Conrad couldn’t imagine there ever being anyone who would be right for him. How could he be tolerated? Look how Lucy abhorred him. But could he blame her? He had at first… had been furious with her and Oliver at the way he’d been treated.
But now… now it was as clear as the sparkling glass through which he observed the outside world that he had gotten everything he had deserved. Which would make it even more difficult to convince Oliver to meet with him.
Steps approached from the hall.
“
Lord Lofton?”
Conrad turned. Giles stood, red-faced and perspiring.
“
What in heaven’s name have you been doing, Giles?” Surely he hadn’t gone back into the closet again so soon?
“
I had just sent off your missive with strict instructions for the footman to wait for a reply.”
“
Yes, yes, go on.”
“
A messenger approached with a message for
you.
”
“
I don’t understand. There couldn’t have been an answer that quickly.”
“
No, my lord.”
“
What, then?”
Giles’ deep breath hinted at long suffering. “The messenger handed me a note with similar instructions as what I’d just given. To give you the message and wait for a reply.” He held out the sealed note toward Conrad.
“
Step closer man, I don’t have all day.”
“
Pardon, my lord.” He crossed the room, handed him the note and turned to leave.
“
Wait.”
“
Yes, my lord.”
“
If the messenger needs a speedy reply, I’ll read it now and pen my answer. You then can send him on his way with the note.”
“
Certainly, my lord.”
Conrad returned to the desk for a pen and some ink. He sat down to open the note. Who could it be from? A faint scent of lavender rose as soon as he’d open the note and spread it on the desk. Was the note from a woman?
He squinted down at the small penmanship and read the short message.
Lord Lofton,
I would be most pleased if you would join me this evening for a small gathering at my home at eight.
I look forward to your reply.
Miss Talbot.
Miss Talbot. Amelia Talbot? He’d made her acquaintance in the past, briefly, but hadn’t spoken more than a few words of polite references to the weather. Parties, dances, dinners. She was always there. Beautiful red hair. Alluring green eyes. Oh yes, he’d noticed her.
She wanted him to come to her father’s estate. Tonight. This was the first invitation he’d ever received from her. From any woman younger than his mother. Should he accept?
A cough came from across the room. Giles. Waiting for Conrad’s answer. Conrad dipped the pen in the ink, wrote his acceptance, and closed and sealed the paper.
“
Take this to the messenger, Giles. Quickly.”
With a nod, the butler turned on his heel and darted from the room.
What an odd turn of events. A party invitation from the most arresting woman Conrad had ever seen.
Chances were, though, that other men in attendance would garner her favor. Conrad didn’t garner any woman’s favor.
Ever.
Footsteps approached from the hall again. Had Giles forgotten to tell him something? He stared at the open doorway. But it wasn’t the butler.
“
Conrad, there you are.”
Oh good. She found me
. “Yes, Mother?”
“
I still need to discuss my mortification at the milliner’s shop.”
Conrad inhaled deeply but said not a word. He didn’t need to. His mother talked enough for a roomful of people all on her own.
Night noises, uttered
by some type of horrid frogs and insects, croaked and buzzed in the cool evening air. Somehow, Conrad had managed to escape his home without his mother’s knowledge. He didn’t care how it had happened, he was just ecstatic that it had.
Irritation pricked at him as he waited for the driver to bring the carriage to the front door. Why hadn’t it been waiting there for him? The servants knew how much he hated spending time outside. He tightened his gloved hands into fists at his sides and tapped his toe.
By the time the carriage rolled to a stop, Conrad was livid. “How long must I stand and wait for you? I have somewhere to be.”
Even in the lengthening shadows, it was obvious the man’s face had reddened. “Pardon me, Lord Lofton. Whinny threw a shoe and I had to—”
“
No time for that, now.” Conrad climbed into the carriage and sat down. The
clip-clop
of the horses’ hooves on the lane brought him pause. Perhaps that really had been the reason for the delay. And if that were the case…
Then I’m not doing a very good job of making the changes I desire to make.
Things which in the past annoyed me must now be given thought before I react
negatively.
He released a frustrated breath. How difficult it was to change patterns developed over nearly thirty years.
The sky grew ever darker and with it, the appearance of a multitude of bright stars. He glanced up. It was pretty, he supposed, though it was still the out-of-doors, and his mother…
It always seemed to come back to her. Her influence. Her dislikes. Her… everything.
If Conrad were ever fortunate enough to marry, would the poor woman wilt in his mother’s overbearing presence? It didn’t do any good to think about marriage, though. What was the point? Even if someone agreed to marry him, which in itself seemed far-fetched, he couldn’t afford a bride. Being in debt wasn’t something that would draw a woman to any man.
Time to stop dwelling on what he lacked, both in finances and personal charm. He blocked the negative thoughts from his mind and wondered instead how many people would be at tonight’s gathering. Miss Talbot had written it would be small. Ten? Twenty? It mattered not. Conrad was simply relieved to be away from his mother for an evening. He’d gladly have dinner with a flock of birds rather than… He grimaced.
Well, no, not a flock of birds.
His carriage rolled along several more streets before stopping in front of a large house in Mayfair. Lit candles lined the windowsills, and Conrad focused on one downstairs window. He squinted. Where were the other guests? Was he early? Someone stood at an upstairs window, watching.
Now that my presence is known, I must go to the door, early or not.
Conrad stepped from the carriage and gave the driver instructions to wait down the street since he didn’t know how long the evening would be. He made it a point to thank the man. An apology was in order, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words.
Some habits died hard.
A cool breeze wafted around his face and neck. He hunched his shoulders in his coat, hoping for a respite from the chill. Ever since he’d developed that bad tooth, he’d lost weight. And the loss of body mass failed to keep him warm. His stomach rumbled. Perhaps the food served tonight would be something he liked. It was past time for him to put on more weight. Even though he was several pounds heavier than before having his tooth removed, his clothes still hung on his skinny frame.
And since the state of his finances wouldn’t allow him to buy new jackets and trousers, for the time being, he’d have to make do with resembling a sad scarecrow. His boots tapped along the walk and to the door. He raised his hand to knock, but the door opened before he could.