Chapter Four #2
Once Hugo returned to Merrifield as the earl, he met with the vicar who held the living in Merrivale, the nearest village.
The vicar had been old when Hugo was young, and he was in his late sixties.
The clergyman had conducted the services for Hugo’s father, and then they had met the following day.
When the vicar learned that Hugo’s cousin had graduated from Cambridge and was eager to assume the living at Merrivale, he had graciously retired.
Immediately, Hugo had sent word to Anthony, and he had put in his notice at his current church, arriving at Merrivale three weeks later.
He now lived at the vicarage and was but three miles from Merrifield.
It had comforted Hugo to have his cousin and mentor so close by.
“Yes, my cousin does keep his eye on me,” he agreed. Standing, he said, “I suppose I am off to White’s.”
“Give my best to His Grace,” Alfie requested.
“I most certainly will.”
He took a final swig of his coffee. Hugo never went down to breakfast, finding he was not hungry in the mornings.
Alfie did, however, always bring him a cup of coffee.
The hot beverage brightened his mood, making him feel somehow sharper.
He had Coggins have the carriage brought around and told the butler once his coachman dropped him at White’s, he would have him return, knowing Mama and Dilly might have another appointment scheduled and be in need of transportation.
It had surprised him all it took for his sister to be made ready for her come-out.
Mama had commissioned an entire new wardrobe for Dilly.
While Hugo did not begrudge his sister having new gowns to wear, it had shocked him when Mama explained that Dilly would not be able to don again any of the gowns to the balls held that Season, and she would also not repeat wearing any gowns worn to a ton affair.
He thought it a waste, just another example of how out of touch Polite Society was with the rest of the world.
Still, he would do everything in his power to see that Dilly gained a husband this Season, one who was worthy of her.
Mama had also hired a dance master to perfect Dilly’s steps. Both a music and art tutor had been engaged for a short while, and now Dilly’s playing of the pianoforte was quite good. Her sketching and painting left much to be desired, though, and he doubted she would consider pursuing art.
Hugo entered his carriage, working on slowing his breathing as they traveled through the bustling streets of London.
Already, after a few weeks in town, he sorely missed the countryside.
He did not like noise or large crowds, and London was full of both.
Dread filled him, thinking of the opening ball to be held in about ten days’ time.
He had passed along all the invitations he had received to his mother, allowing her to respond to the events she deemed suitable for Dilly to attend.
He would escort the pair to these—and not attend a single extra event he did not have to go to.
The coach arrived at White’s and he exited it, instructing his driver to head home and be at Lady Merriman’s disposal for the rest of the day.
“Yes, my lord,” the coachman said, tipping his cap to Hugo.
After two years, it still amazed him how his servants proved deferential and professional. Then again, he had rooted out all the bad ones, and Mama had done an excellent job of replacing the old guard with the new.
He moved to the door, telling himself he was as good as any man who passed through these doors. That he was an earl, a quite wealthy one, and he had a friend waiting for him.
Once he was admitted, a genial-looking man stepped forward. “I am Pollard, my lord, head of White’s.”
Pausing a moment, he then replied, “I am Lord Merriman.”
The man’s eyes lit up. “Ah, His Grace told me to be expecting you, my lord. Welcome to White’s. I am here to make certain your every need is met. Might I show you about in order to familiarize you with our establishment?”
“Of course.”
Hugo followed Pollard, seeing everything from the dining, card, and billiards rooms to the coffee and two morning rooms. Pollard was friendly, which made him comfortable.
He tried not to look at the other gentlemen in the rooms they passed, not wanting his confidence to waver.
His gut told him he would eventually run into former classmates.
Some of those would be the very men who had bullied him unmercifully, but he was an adult now, not a small, cowed boy.
A servant stepped up, and Pollard said, “This is Tommy, my lord, one of the best servers at White’s. Tommy, this is the Earl of Merriman, a good friend to the Duke of Reddington.”
The server nodded in acknowledgement and said, “His Grace has just arrived, Mr. Pollard. He is seated in one of the morning rooms and asked that Lord Merriman join him as soon as possible.”
“I can do so now,” Hugo said.
“Before you leave, my lord, please let Tommy know all your preferences regarding food and drink. Your taste in newspapers, as well. Anytime you visit us at White’s, we want it to be an enjoyable experience.”
“I prefer coffee with cream. No sugar. If it is tea, then it is the opposite. Sugar and no cream. The only food I will not eat is liver, and I read newspapers voraciously, all the ones printed in town.”
“Very good, my lord,” Pollard said. “Tommy will remember your preferences, and I will let our other staff members know of them, as well.”
“If you follow me, my lord, I will take you to His Grace,” Tommy said.
He did so, once more passing others who sat, drinking hot beverages, reading newspapers, and talking with fellow peers. Hugo didn’t realize he was holding his breath until they entered a room and he spied Matthew, who broke out in a huge smile.
“I will bring your coffee now, my lord,” Tommy said, discreetly exiting.
“Merriman!” called Matthew, rising to greet him. “We are finally in town together.”
Instead of a sedate handshake, the duke threw his arms about Hugo, slapping him on the back. He knew others were carefully observing Matthew’s behavior and would take note of the closeness between them.
As they sat, he leaned toward his friend. “Was that merely a show of friendship, or are you letting the members of White’s know that I have the ducal stamp of approval?”
Matthew laughed heartily. “You are never one to mince words, Hugo.” He paused.
“I am glad to see you, but I did not think a rousing show of support by me toward you would go unnoticed. After all, I have had others observing my every move for over a dozen years now. And what the Duke of Reddington is seen doing is soon imitated by others. Whoever the Duke of Reddington offers his friendship to will be seen as a gentleman others will wish to meet. Who knows? You soon may prove more popular than I have ever been.”
Hugo shook his head. “You are as outrageous as usual.” He smiled. “And as kind as you were from the moment you took notice of me.”
His friend brushed aside the compliment. “How is Anthony? He is not the best writer of letters.”
“My cousin is kept busy by the parishioners of Merrivale. And even though he can write eloquently, you know he prefers conversations in person.”
“Do the two of you still practice speaking together?” the duke inquired.
“When I go and visit him, we will retreat to his study and do so. For the most part, we each practice on our own, though. I know it is something I can never grow lax about. I spent too many years dreading opening my mouth. Now that I can speak clearly and concisely, I never wish to lose that skill.”
“How is your sister’s preparation for the Season coming along?”
“She is as busy as ever. She had a dress fitting yesterday, and then she practiced her dancing and pianoforte playing before Mama took her to tea with some friends. They actually went to the theater last night. I have not even seen either of them since yesterday morning.”
“Oh, you will see plenty of them beginning next week. You will escort them to so many events, they will begin to blur.”
He studied his friend. “Do you enjoy going to these social affairs?”
Matthew shrugged. “Sometimes. I will admit that oftentimes I am bored. Every mama with an unmarried daughter chases me about. I find their daughters uninteresting and usually hide in the card room at balls.” He sighed. “Perhaps now that you are in town, we both might look for a bride.”
Hugo shook his head. “Not me. Not this year. My only intention is to see Dilly wed. I will look to you, though, for help in seeing which candidates have the most potential. As a duke, I am certain you know everyone in Polite Society.”
“I do know most, if only by reputation. I must say, keeping your pretty sister away from the rakes and rogues will be a difficult task.”
“You think Dilly pretty?” he asked.
“Your sister is very pretty,” Matthew assured him. “And every gentleman—be he good or bad—will be sniffing about her.”
Worry filled him. And worry was not good for him. It bothered his thinking. It caused him to lose focus.
“Might I have a seat here?” a voice asked. “White’s is filling up this morning. I have never seen it so crowded before a Season began.”
He glanced up at the tall, lean man, noticing his unique amethyst eyes and aquiline nose.
Matthew said, “Of course, Dyer. This is my good friend, Lord Merriman. Viscount Dyer.”
“A pleasure,” the viscount said, offering Hugo his hand.
“Likewise,” he said.
“Please, do not let me interrupt your conversation. I simply want something to drink and the latest newspaper. Ah, wait. Here is Tommy, ready with what I need.”
“Lord Dyer,” the servant greeted. “Your beverage and newspapers.”
“You are a gem, Tommy,” Dyer said. “If I were not poor, I would steal you away from White’s and make you my valet.”
“I am quite happy to serve the members of White’s, my lord,” Tommy said.
Hugo wondered at the remark the viscount made, wondering if he teased about being poor. It did not seem something which should be shared.
“Are you truly poor?” he asked boldly, something quite out of character for him.
Dyer laughed. “I tease about it. I do have a quarterly allowance provided to me, courtesy of my father, Lord Marley. For now, I watch the money I do have carefully. When I eventually come into my title—and I hope it will be many years before Papa passes on—I believe I will still be scrupulous with my funds.” He smiled.
“Until then, I am on my own. I pursue my interests and do my best to avoid wooing any young ladies during the Season. While I am always a ready dance partner, I let them know I have no interest in wedding until I am settled with my title.”
“That is very frank,” he said, liking the open honesty of this man.
“Please, do not let me interrupt your conversation,” Dyer told them. “I have plenty to keep me entertained.”
He opened a newspaper and began reading, allowing Hugo and Matthew to pick up where they left off.
“As I was saying, you must be vigilant in watching over your sister,” Matthew said. “I can help you as you narrow down the list of candidates for her hand.”
“Beg pardon,” Lord Dyer said. “My cousin is making her own come-out this Season. She is the youngest sister of the Duke of Millbrooke, and I will be assisting him in helping her find a husband. Perhaps we might pool our knowledge of the eligible gentlemen that take an interest in our relatives. If any of us discover something unsavory which would discourage a match between the young ladies in our care and an unscrupulous suitor, it could benefit us all.”
Liking the idea, Hugo said, “I would appreciate any information which comes to you, Lord Dyer. I cherish my sister, and I would not see her with some cad.”
“Perhaps you might join my cousin and me at Tattersall’s this afternoon at two o’clock then,” suggested the viscount.
“Millbrooke just arrived in town this morning, and he asked me to look at a new horse with him. I would be happy to introduce you to him, Lord Merriman.” He turned to Matthew.
“Of course, I believe you know my cousin, Your Grace.”
“Not well,” Matthew admitted. “What I do know of Millbrooke, I like.” He looked to Hugo. “What do you say, my friend? Shall we join the Duke of Millbrooke and Lord Dyer at Tattersall’s this afternoon?”
Knowing it would be helpful to have another duke among the circle of his acquaintances, especially with Dilly making her come-out, Hugo said, “We would be delighted to spend some time looking at horseflesh with you, my lord.”