Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Chapter Thirteen

Negotiating with a Marchioness

Meanwhile, at Excelsior Park, Cambridgeshire

“M ay I be of assistance, my lord?” the butler of Excelsior Park asked as James stood just inside the front door and stared at the retreating form of Lady Eloise.

“Is Lord Huntsford in residence?” James asked as he fumbled about in his waistcoat pockets in search of a calling card. “I was hoping to speak with him about…about some legislation for the next session of Parliament.”

The butler’s brows rose so high, they nearly joined his hairline. “You’re not here about Lady Stephanie?” he asked in disbelief.

“Who?” James replied, managing an inquisitive look.

“I’ll see if his lordship is in residence,” the butler murmured. “Perhaps you would prefer to wait in the parlor… Lord…?”

“Leicester.” James handed over a white pasteboard card, relieved that the edges weren’t bent from where they rested in his pocket. He briefly wondered if Lady Eloise might be in the parlor, but he wasn’t about to ask the servant. “Capital,” he added, then followed the butler up a flight of stairs to a beautifully appointed parlor on the first floor.

“Tea, my lord?”

“Yes, please,” James replied, deciding it best he remain on the butler’s good side. He moved to the fireplace, glad there was a roaring fire to warm the room. The thick Axminster carpet would have felt divine beneath stocking feet, but he dared not remove his Hessians. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could get his swollen feet out of the footwear without the help of a valet.

“Oh, dear, I hope you haven’t been waiting long, my lord?” a light voice sounded from the threshold.

James turned and came to attention, his gaze falling on an older matron. Her auburn hair was shot with streaks of silver, but otherwise, she was the epitome of Lady Eloise.

Well, Lady Eloise with an extra stone and a larger bosom. She was wearing a teal gown with a gold sarcenet overskirt and gold jewelry set with a number of prominent gemstones. James had a thought her jewelry alone cost more than his entire earldom was worth when it wasn’t in debt.

“Lady Huntsford?” he guessed as he bowed deeply.

“You must be Leicester,” she replied, hurrying over to offer a hand.

James bowed over it and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “I am, my lady.”

“And you’re probably here about Lady Stephanie,” she said as her expression turned sad.

“Who?” he replied, deciding he best pretend ignorance when it came to the oldest daughter.

Marguerite Regan Wilson, Marchioness of Huntsford, blinked and then regarded the earl with uncertainty. “You’re…you’re not here to ask for her hand?”

James’s gaze darted to a velvet-covered settee, the momentary delay providing him with another idea of how he could explain his presence at Excelsior Park. “Oh, if I were to ask for anyone’s hand in marriage, it would be Lady El’s,” he replied boldly.

For a moment, he was afraid the marchioness was going to faint. Besides how her eyes widened, the color seemed to leave her face as her mouth rounded into an o .

“Eloise?” she asked, obviously in shock.

James wondered if there was even more to the younger daughter than he’d discovered whilst on his walk with her.

More, and not in a good way.

“I would never call her that, my lady, for then she would never speak to me again,” he said in a quiet voice.

Lady Huntsford blinked again. She seemed to have trouble breathing, and for a moment, James thought he might have to ring for a maid to bring a vinaigrette.

“How ever do you know Eloise?” she asked, motioning for him to join her on the settee.

James decided honesty would be best. It was obvious from her reaction that Eloise hadn’t yet been out in Society. Her parents were probably keeping her sequestered until Lady Stephanie was married off. “I had the pleasure of walking with her this morning. As a means of providing protection, of course,” he quickly added, lest she get the wrong impression.

“Where was she walking?” Marguerite asked in alarm.

“Oh, just on the lane leading here to Excelsior Park, my lady. Not having met her in London during the last Season, I wasn’t aware she was your daughter.”

“She was walking toward Excelsior Park?” Marguerite asked, her brows furrowed.

Remembering the young woman’s comment about Lord Weatherby, James tried to bring a bit of humor to the conversation. “Well, I rather imagine she would have only walked away from here if she found herself betrothed to Lord Weatherby,” he replied with a grin. “She’s not really very fond of him.”

The marchioness apparently didn’t find any humor in the comment, for she dipped her head and seemed to study her fingers for a moment. “I apologize that you had to look after her,” she murmured. “You were no doubt inconvenienced.”

“Oh, hardly, my lady,” he responded in surprise. “I find her company and her manner rather refreshing,” he claimed. “I wasn’t inconvenienced in the least, so no apology is necessary.”

Marguerite gave him a quelling glance. “Forgive me for not believing you. It’s just that you are the eighth or ninth peer to pay a call here in the past couple of months.”

Not surprised at hearing the comment for the third time in less than an hour, James played dumb. “Well, you have a beautiful home here. You must have to host guests all summer long.”

She blinked. “They didn’t come to see the house , sir. They were here to court my oldest daughter.”

James feigned sudden understanding. “Oh, that’s why you thought I was here for Lady Stephanie,” he murmured. “When in fact I came to speak with Huntsford about some legislation I’m hoping to bring up in our next session of Parliament.” He expected the marchioness would quickly find an excuse to take her leave and then send her husband in to speak with him.

What lady of the ton wished to hear about parliamentary matters?

“What legislation might that be?” she asked, apparently more interested than he expected.

It was James’s turn to blink. “Well, now that the Peace of Vienna has ended the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars,” he quickly improvised, “Britain has expanded its empire. We’ve gained the Cape of Good Hope, St. Lucia, uh… Guiana, Mauritius, and Tobago,” he said with some excitement. “Now I think it’s time we add the Ionian Islands.”

The marchioness arched her brows. “Ionian Islands?” she repeated.

“They require our protection,” James insisted.

“Aren’t they in Greece?” Marguerite asked, confusion evident in her expression.

Before James could answer, she quickly stood, which had him rising from the settee as well. Moving to a world globe that was mounted on a stand near one of the windows, she placed both hands on it and slowly rotated the sphere.

James joined the marchioness, impressed by the detail shown on the globe. “There they are,” he said as he indicated the west side of Greece with an index finger. “They are referred to as the Heptanese—”

“Because there are seven of them,” Marguerite said, not making it a question.

Impressed she seemed familiar with the area, James nodded. “But there are far more than the seven you see there,” he explained. “All rather…vulnerable.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said, her attention suddenly drawn to the door.

James turned to follow her gaze.

Upon seeing who stood there, he dearly hoped he was to be invited to dinner that evening.