Chapter 2 #2
Peter imagined the nudge was supposed to be discreet, but he did not miss it, nor did he fail to see the Baron’s reaction to being jabbed. He winced away from his wife, then gave her a long, searching look. Her eyes flicked back and forth.
He was mildly fascinated by their silent conversation, but when the silence stretched a beat too long for his comfort, he finally spoke.
“My mother and sister have told me a great deal about you, too, Lord Crawford.” The Baron and Baroness turned to face him once more. “I understand that you have a fine collection of armor.”
“Oh, yes,” Lord Crawford enthused. His eyes lit up with genuine pride. “I have suits of armor that were forged in the Middle Ages. There are others that were worn into battle by great heroes.” He clapped his hands delightedly. “You must let me show you the house, Your Grace.”
“Very well.” Peter nodded his assent. “I should like very much to see your treasures.”
Lord Crawford gestured to the doorway, and Peter made to follow him, when a bell chimed.
“What was that?” Peter asked.
Lady Crawford giggled girlishly. “It is time for dinner.”
“Perhaps we may postpone our trip to the Iron Tower, where I keep the armory,” Lord Crawford suggested.
“That is probably for the best.” Peter smiled at him. “My family and I truly do not want to keep your guests waiting.”
A flurry of noises enveloped them then as people rushed from everywhere. Those who had been seated in the drawing room rose and made their way to the dining room.
From where he was standing, Peter could hear the rustle of skirts and the tap of boot heels as the guests made their way to what was sure to be a sumptuous meal.
“My dear…” Lord Crawford offered his arm to his wife, prompting Peter to hold out both arms to his sister and mother. “Shall we go in?”
“Oh, yes.” Lady Crawford lifted her hand, making the bangles on her wrists jingle.
“I am so looking forward to tonight’s meal.
” She turned her head slightly so she could look over her shoulder at them.
“Cook prepared a little of everyone’s favorite dish.
She made the potatoes just the way Ambrose likes them.
” She paused and patted her husband’s arm.
“And there is a bit of trout for me because the fish course tends to be what I like the best. Then, I believe we will have a spread of fresh fruit for dessert. Our daughter Lavinia loves blackberries, strawberries, gooseberries…” She stopped rattling her list and giggled again.
“She really likes berries of all kinds.”
“And where is Lavinia?” Madeline interjected. “I have not seen her.”
“Is she not here?” Lord Crawford asked as they stepped into the dining room and were surrounded by other members of the ton.
“I told you,” Lady Crawford replied, loudly enough for all and sundry to hear, “Lavinia was not feeling well and chose to retire early.”
Thank you.
Peter sent up a quick prayer of gratitude to the heavens for saving him from encountering Miss Lavinia Fitzroy. While his sister did not want him anywhere near her friend, he knew his mother would likely press the issue. He had already imagined being seated next to her at the dining table.
For now, I can breathe easily.
He knew he could not escape making the acquaintance of Miss Fitzroy, but it was nice to know that he would enjoy his dinner in peace.
Dinner soon began, and Peter was not at all dismayed when he turned to his left and found the seat empty. He picked up the place card and read the tiny but neat calligraphy.
Just as I expected. Miss Lavinia Fitzroy.
While he was less than surprised to see that he had been seated next to Lord and Lady Crawford’s daughter, he was curious why she had failed to come down for dinner.
Is she truly ill?
He glanced around the crowded room.
It seems an awfully inconvenient time to feel unwell.
His eyes swept over the throng. He could not be sure who or what he was looking for, but he searched each face, wondering if the others thought it odd that Miss Fitzroy was absent.
He did not ponder the notion for long because there were other treats for his eyes to behold. The opulent dining room was a spectacle.
The long mahogany table, covered with a pristine white cloth, was set with the finest china and crystal, all meticulously arranged. All the guests had come down from their chambers dressed elegantly.
Soon, the hushed tones of conversation and laughter and the gentle clinking of glasses and cutlery created a sophisticated ambiance.
“I must say,” began the ever-loquacious Marquess of Selway, who was seated across from him, “it is remarkable how only a few truly comprehend the intricacies of managing such large estates.”
He posed in his tailored dinner jacket with a proud expression on his face that was not too obvious but remained apparent to the keenest of eyes.
Peter snorted. He had encountered Lord Selway on many occasions and had never once been impressed by his pompousness.
Almost every gentleman at this table manages a large estate. Who exactly does Selway mean to offend by speaking thusly?
He thought of challenging the Marquess, but after spending years debating matters of little consequence in the House of Lords with the gentleman, he knew that any breath he devoted to a conversation with him would be wasted.
“It demands considerable intellect and, arguably, a certain finesse,” Selway added while watching the Fitzroys. “Regrettably, this skill seems to be disappearing among the nobility. However, you seem to have maintained it at this estate.”
“Oh, you always have the kindest words, Selway,” Lord Crawford replied, accepting the praise. “But I quite agree, and you seem to also be a capable example yourself.”
The others whispered their agreement, while Peter lifted his glass of claret and took a small sip.
“He is a mouthful, is he not?”
He almost choked on his wine upon hearing his sister’s voice. He squeezed his eyes shut to hold back laughter. “Maddie… What are you doing here?”
“Enjoying my dinner,” Madeline replied as she picked up a bread roll, tore it in half, and stuffed a piece into her mouth.
“But that is Miss Fitzroy’s seat,” Peter hissed once he regained his composure.
“So it was,” Madeline retorted. “But since Lavinia cannot join us, I figured it was… safest for all the ladies in the room if I took it.” She shoved the other bread piece into her mouth and talked around it.
“I am merely doing a public service, dear brother. I wouldn’t want any of these fine young ladies to tarnish their reputations by sitting next to the most notorious rake in all of England. ”
Peter bit back a response.
Once again, Madeline has judged me all wrong.
“Are you… Are you the Duke of Pemberton?”
The question came from a timid-looking young man who was seated on Madeline’s other side.
Peter leaned forward and glanced at him critically. “Who wants to know?”
“Ha!” Madeline laughed in that low, rumbling way of hers that was another of her unladylike traits. “Of course, this is my brother, the Duke of Pemberton. Do forgive him for being a bit of a grump.”
The young man ran a shaky hand through hair that was so blond and light, it reminded Peter of a dove’s wing.
“I… I am the one who should apologize,” he murmured. “We—none of us have been introduced, and yet, when I heard what you said just now, I could not… well, I could not quell my curiosity.”
Peter was befuddled. He had attended a few house parties before, but his mother and sister had not warned him about the way the rules of polite Society would be flouted in the Baron and Baroness’s home.
Their daughter skips dinner and refuses to mingle with the guests. Young ladies, like my sister, talk with their mouths full. And this young gentleman seems to think it is acceptable to interrupt our conversation.
“I’m Lady Madeline Linfield,” Maddie said as she took a long slurp of her watered-down wine. She waved her free hand at Peter. “That’s my brother, Peter.”
“Uh…” The young gentleman made a discomfited sound, so Madeline rolled her eyes and amended her statement.
“You may call him His Grace. He likes that.”
“I am the Duke of Pemberton,” Peter said in a voice that sounded rigid and formal even to his own ears. “And you are?”
“L-Lord Windham,” the man stuttered. “Lord Emanuel Windham. I am friends with Mr. Charles Fitzroy and was… was asked to attend this house party so I might be introduced to all of Lady Crawford’s lovely lady friends.
” Then, as if he realized a beat too late that he had revealed too much, his pale cheeks turned maroon. “I… I did not mean to imply…”
Madeline waved away his apology with a gentle flick of her wrist. “Think nothing of it, Lord Windham. I rather like it when gentlemen say what they mean, rather than hide behind a wall of secrets.” She tossed a flippant look at Peter, and he responded with an annoyed snort.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Lady Madeline,” Lord Windham offered.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Madeline responded quickly. Then she tipped her head toward the bread roll that lay on his side plate. “Were you planning to eat that? Shall we split it?”
“Maddie,” Peter groaned.
But he was too late. Madeline had already grabbed the roll, split it in two, and handed one half to Lord Windham.
“Thank you, My Lady,” Lord Windham said cheerfully as he reached for the butter dish. “Would you care for a bit of…”
His words trailed off as Madeline popped her half into her mouth.
Peter dropped his forehead into his hand.
What will I do with her?
He stared at his plate for a moment, then lifted his head and resumed eating his own bread roll, knowing that if he did not act quickly, Madeline would snatch it off his plate.
He chewed the bread thoughtfully, tuning out all the conversations around him.
What shall I make of this week?
His head spun as he thought of everything he’d left behind in London. His eyes darted to Miss Fitzroy’s place card, and he wondered what had really happened to her. Then his eyes flicked to his mother. She beamed at him.
At least she is happy.
Peter did not know how long his mother’s jubilation would last, but he rejoiced at seeing her smile, and that was enough for now.