Chapter Seventeen #2
“Well, this calls for a toast!” Lady Eamont stood and raised her teacup with a forced smile.
“My daughter is getting married!” she said, her face flushed and her eyes a little wild so that Bridget couldn’t quite make out whether she was pleased or not.
But she thought the woman probably wasn’t as pleased as a mama desperate to see her daughters married ought to be.
“I think this calls for a real toast, with champagne.” Bridget stood up. “I’ll go and see to it.” She stooped to pick up Bijou and then took the opportunity to slip back indoors before anyone could stop her.
*
Nate was utterly bewildered. He had known Dodsworth for years.
The man was a sworn bachelor. And now, suddenly, to become betrothed to Lydia Eamont, of all people!
It was unbelievable. Something was afoot.
The poor chap looked quite miserable. And clearly, Jefferson had been kept in the dark because he seemed downright shocked—and not in a good way.
Other than congratulating the couple, Nate did not have a hope of speaking to Dodsworth alone as Lydia had latched onto his arm and looked as if she’d never let go.
“I say, that was a surprise, wasn’t it?” Frederick appeared next to Nate. “I had no idea Dodsworth was interested in Lydia Eamont.”
“It makes no sense. He’s obviously not happy, so what is going on? He can’t have done it for the money. At least, and as far as I know, he doesn’t have money problems.” Nate folded his arms. “I wonder what happened. She must have tricked him into being alone with her—caught him off his guard.”
“You don’t say.” Frederick slipped his hands in his pockets and eyed their mutual friend.
“Do you suppose it could have been the mushrooms that did it?” Nate asked, sensing an opportunity to get some information from Frederick.
“The ones that give you Kubla Khan visions? Dodsworth talked about searching for them that first night he was here. I have to say, I was quite surprised—it seemed rather out of character for him. He’s never been a wild man. ”
“They don’t make you wild,” Frederick said. “They have more of a calming effect.”
“So, you’ve been indulging too?”
“On occasion. They put you in a sort of poetic dreamland. Isn’t that the spirit of the lakes?”
“I suppose it is.” Nate smiled. He couldn’t argue with that.
“Who knows what form Lydia took in poor Doddy’s eyes when he was in his hallucinatory state? She could have been Venus or Helen of Troy herself—whomever he saw, he liked her well enough to propose.”
“Good Lord.” Nate shuddered. “Well, better Dodsworth than me. I can promise you that I won’t be caught alone with Adelia Eamont. There’ll be no chance of her tricking me into compromising her.”
“Hmm.” Frederick ran a hand over the cleft in his chin. “I suppose that’s the way to do it—don’t ask—just announce in public how you compromised a rich viscount’s daughter and are now marrying her. Then all your money problems will be over.”
“Don’t even think it. If you try that, Lord Eamont will likely challenge you to a duel. Then you’d be up for murder.”
“Yes, I do believe you’re right. He won’t be so friendly to me now that his mistress is dead. I am no longer useful, so I presume it won’t be long before he starts demanding repayment of my remaining debt.”
“I wish I could help you, but all of my money is tied up in this place. The garden was in perfect shape, but the rest of the house wasn’t. I had to spend quite a bit to get it ready, and the upkeep certainly isn’t cheap.”
“Not to worry. I’ll think of something.”
Nate followed Frederick’s gaze, which, he saw, landed on Helen. She strolled next to her husband and his manservant, who pushed his chair. Helen must have felt Frederick’s gaze on her because she turned to him and smiled.
“You’re not thinking of—” Nate began.
“Why not? She has plenty of money, and that husband of hers can’t be satisfying her. We both have something the other wants.”
“She has a son,” Nate said, but he was unsure why.
It was no business of his what Helen did with her life.
She’d offered herself to him, and he’d refused.
He no longer loved her; still, the thought of Frederick—was this interest new, or had it existed before—when he and Helen were betrothed?
Nate glanced at Frederick. How well did he truly know his friend?
“Don’t look at me like that! Every woman you come in contact with can’t be off limits to your friends, Squires,” Frederick said as if he sensed Nate’s thoughts.
“She wasn’t just any woman. We were betrothed.”
“And now you’re not.”
“Yes, you have a point.” Nate forced nonchalance, even though he didn’t feel quite that calm. “Do as you wish, with one caveat.”
“And what is that?” Frederick raised his eyebrows in question.
“You’d best hope Lord Luxton remains healthy. One accidental death might be overlooked by the local magistrate, but two certainly will not.”
“Good Lord, Squires! How long have you known me? I’m a philanderer, not a murderer.”
Nate turned to look at Helen as she walked beside her husband, confined to his chair, and wheeled by his valet. It’s not you that I’m concerned about.