Chapter Two #2
He gathered his thoughts. If only he hadn’t had quite so much to drink, for that was surely making his understanding of the situation more difficult.
This interview was not heading in the direction he would have liked.
He swallowed. Thoughts of seduction had vanished, as had the effect they’d been having on certain parts of his anatomy.
“So, Somerton’s offspring are your cousins?
” He couldn’t hide the slight rise in his voice and knew she’d noticed.
She nodded. “They are, although I have not seen them since I was a child, as my father is estranged from his brother.” She paused.
“And we have been away on the Continent for most of my life. At least, since my grandmother died when I was nine years old.” Her eyes clouded with something that might have been old grief.
“She brought me up until then, you see, as my mother and father were…abroad. We lived in the Dower House at Somerton. I only really had anything to do with my cousin Robert, as the others were much older than me. Walter was always away at school, and Emily left home to be married when I was just a small child. I have not seen any of them since my father came to take me away with him.”
This was worse than he’d expected. How had he not known Walter had an uncle?
Although, if he was honest, hadn’t Walter mentioned the man a long time ago when they’d both been boys?
From what he now recalled, a bit of a black sheep uncle, but an uncle, nevertheless.
And a cousin. A very beautiful cousin. Or she would be if someone took her in hand and spent some money on her.
Why had Walter never mentioned her? Not that it would have changed anything about last night, and whatever had happened in that black void of his blank memory.
But it would have been interesting to have been told that Walter’s uncle had been off, gallivanting about Europe on a prolonged gambling spree.
With a daughter. The daughter who was now sitting in his mother’s chair and looking at him expectantly.
“Ah,” he said, for want of anything else to say.
“Are you acquainted with my uncle and cousins?” she asked, her tone conversational.
He nodded. “Walter and I have known one another since our days at Eton.” Walter, the like-minded friend with whom he’d unleashed himself on London at the age of eighteen with the sole intention of enjoyment. And eradicating those bloody bad dreams.
Wait. Walter had been there last night, hadn’t he?
A vague memory of his friend at his side while he’d been playing cards now surfaced.
How had he not thought to warn his best friend that the man he was gambling with was his long-lost uncle?
How had Walter not warned him to refuse the wager of a young lady, his actual long-lost cousin, to settle a bet?
Had Walter been even more drunk than he himself had been?
Or, did he not even know the man at the table had been his uncle?
He was going to have to have words with Walter. Strong words.
He returned his gaze to Miss Farrington’s undeniably pleasing visage, his attitude to her somewhat changed. “So, now that you are here, what am I supposed to do with you? Employ you as a servant? I think not.”
The fact that Walter was now involved, albeit unintentionally, bothered him.
He couldn’t take this beauty as his mistress, much as he liked the idea.
He couldn’t repudiate her because presumably Walter had witnessed the whole exchange.
And, although he’d not realized that the man offering his daughter to the Black Earl was none other than his own long-lost uncle, he’d very soon be apprised of the fact.
And when he did know, he’d expect Jonathan to do the honorable thing.
He’d be deeply offended if Jonathan cast his cousin aside—just as offended as if he’d taken her into his bed.
Which if he hadn’t realized who she was, he would most certainly have tried to do.
He abandoned the mantlepiece and threw himself down in another seat, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. It felt as though it might fall off if he weren’t careful.
“Are you unwell, my lord?” A gentle voice interrupted his dilemma.
“A little.”
“Water,” she said. “You are suffering from lack of water. Shall I send for a servant to fetch you some?”
She might well be right. His mouth had gone dry again and his head throbbed, only now this was partly due to the problem her arrival had created.
Although it was a bit unfair to accuse her of creating it when it had clearly been his own fault for accepting a young lady in payment of a debt.
He must have been addled, or he would at the very least have made sure she was pretty before he’d done so.
Only luck had provided him with a girl of such beauty.
Not that he could now avail himself of her obedience.
He nodded, wondering how many people knew about this unfortunate wager.
And how long would it take for the story of it to circulate around Town.
This could turn out to be more than awkward.
Water was sent for. When it came, she insisted he drink several glasses.
“You will feel better soon. I know this cure works well for a sore head, as I’ve made my father drink water on numerous occasions, even though he doesn’t like to. Have some more.”
“Water is not my usual choice,” he muttered as she handed him a fourth glass.
The jug was now nearly empty, yet for some reason he found it hard to refuse her.
She had a capable air about her reminiscent of his own nurse when he’d been a small child.
He had a feeling he was face to face with a lady of some determination.
Her eyes glittered with amusement. “I can see that.” Now she was definitely laughing at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, straightening up. “As I remember nothing from last night, this news has come as something of a shock to me. As has your relationship to my friend Walter.” He licked his lips, worrying again about how many witnesses there’d been to this wager.
Not that it would have mattered had she not been his best friend’s cousin. If only he could remember.
She smiled. “I must own that I too am somewhat surprised that you are a friend of a relation of mine. Not that he would be aware of my existence, I imagine.” She frowned.
“I suppose my papa was too drunk to realize the identity of your friend.” She sighed.
“He so often is.” A hint of resigned sadness showed in those blue eyes and her shoulders, so determined until now, sagged.
Jonathan was just considering that the best solution here might be to acquit her father of all his debts, as he could well afford to, and send her back to him forthwith before anyone found out what he’d agreed to, when the parlor door swung open and Trubshawe, his long-serving butler entered.
He cleared his throat as though about to make an important announcement. “Mr. Farrington, my lord.”
Oh no. Not now.
Walter Farrington, much to his country-loving father’s disgust, was a darling of the ton, and dressed to match.
From the top of his exquisitely coiffed Grecian hairstyle, via the high points of his collar and the embroidery on his waistcoat, down to his highly polished top boots, everything about him spoke of sophistication and his fondness for his own appearance.
Jonathan was one of the few who knew that beneath that foppish facade lurked a man after his own heart.
A womanizer, yes, but also someone who could strip to his breeches and slog it out in a bare-knuckle fight if he had to…
and win. Although in truth, he much preferred peaceful negotiation.
On a gust of perfume, Walter entered the parlor, swordstick in one hand and quizzing glass in the other, and halted on the threshold, his gaze moving from his friend’s horrified face to the vision of loveliness who was staring at him in open, avid curiosity.
No trace of recognition showed in his eyes as he stared at Miss Farrington, thank goodness. Although that ignorance was not going to last long.