Chapter Nine
A dinner party at his mother’s home was the last event Anthony wanted to attend. He’d considered inviting Lark just to have an ally, but his mother insisted the guest list stay small for some specific reason.
He learned what that reason was as soon as he was seated for dinner, next to a Lady Eugenia Trestle, the daughter of the Earl of Rainsford.
He’d walked into a trap.
No one at the dinner table said what Anthony’s presence at this dinner implied.
The Earl and Countess of Rainsford were perfectly pleasant.
The countess kept up a steady stream of conversation with Mother, mostly society gossip.
Anthony’s Uncle George, his mother’s untitled younger brother, kept the earl entertained, bouncing around various parliamentary business.
This left Anthony to speak with Lady Eugenia, likely by design.
She was pretty, albeit very young, barely nineteen. Her hair was pinned atop her head in an elaborate nest of curls that must have taken her lady’s maid an hour to assemble. She had porcelain skin and flushed cheeks and impeccable table manners.
And she was dull as dirt.
Anthony fished for topics. Had she read any good books recently?
No, she didn’t really read. What did she think of the weather?
Oh, it was pleasant, she said amiably, even though London had been a rainy, muddy mess for three days.
How did she like to occupy her time? Needlepoint and promenades in the park.
“Have you read Shakespeare?” he asked at one point. “Or seen any of his plays performed?”
“Oh, no. Papa thinks the theater is vulgar.”
“Even Shakespeare? The greatest British writer who has ever lived?”
“Indeed. Why do you ask?”
“I was just thinking of idioms Shakespeare invented. ‘Dead as a doornail,’ for example. That was Shakespeare.” And that was how this whole dinner was making Anthony feel.
As the men began to retire toward the lounge for whisky and cigars, Anthony’s mother hooked a hand around his arm and pulled him into the hallway.
“We must discuss your betrothal.”
Here it came. “What betrothal? As you may recall, my betrothal became null as soon as my would-be bride was caught in flagrante with the Earl of Caernarfon. And now my betrothed is married to him.”
“You must get married.”
“I must do no such thing.”
“The Rainsford girl is lovely, isn’t she?”
“She has all the brainpower of a lamprey. We’d have nothing to talk about.”
“Your job is not to talk, Anthony. Your job is to carry on the Beresford legacy.”
“Right. And I cannot bestow the title on a cousin because…”
“Because it is your duty to carry on the title. I like Lady Genovia.”
“Eugenia.”
“Regardless, she is pretty and biddable.”
Anthony lowered his voice. “She is boring and vapid.”
“The society papers are saying things about you.”
“I’m sure they do. It’s probably all true.”
Mother looked positively steamed at that point. “Anthony. Sowing a few oats when you are young is one thing, but you are four and thirty and you have an important title. Perhaps Lady Eustace is not what you want—”
“Lady Eugenia. You don’t even know your prospective daughter-in-law’s name.”
“Perhaps she is not to your taste, but you must choose someone, and soon.”
“Why the rush?”
“The things I hear about you, Anthony. They are too horrific to repeat.”
“Then don’t repeat them. I am finished with this conversation.” He walked into the lounge to get a cigar.
Uncle George and the earl were friendly enough company that Anthony lingered at the house after the Rainsfords departed to have another snifter of whiskey.
He regretted it as soon as Mother brought up the subject of prospective wives again.
As soon as her mouth opened, Uncle George made himself scarce.
“I agree, Eugenia is a bit of an empty vessel,” Mother conceded. “Perhaps we can find someone with more than clouds between her ears.”
“Mother…”
“I know you do not wish to marry, but I wish you would, because you could very well tarnish the family name otherwise.”
“And so what if I do? What if, for example, I do not wish to marry because I am, in fact, in love with someone completely inappropriate.”
“Surely she cannot be so inappropriate as to not be your marchioness. You do not socialize with the other classes.”
“It was a hypothetical. I was curious about how you would react. Swynford’s mother did not approve of his bride, you know.
The daughter of an earl! But because she’d been on the shelf so long and there had been rumors about her father, the dowager did not approve. And yet Swynford married her anyway.”
“Are you telling me you are having an affaire with a woman of ill repute.”
“No… I’m not having an affaire. There’s no woman. I’m trying to make a point.”
“If she comes from a good family, I don’t care if she comes from a lower rank.”
“Of course.” Anthony sighed and spared a thought for Lark. “I wish you would not meddle.”
“I wish you would recognize that you have duties, Anthony. You inherited your father’s title, God rest his soul. That comes with certain obligations.”
“Obligations I did not want and never asked for!”
“And yet you live on the money you inherited from the title.”
Hard to argue with that. “Still, the title is mine, should I not be the one who decides what to do with it?”
“Your one job as Marquess of Beresford is to produce a future Marquess of Beresford.”
And that was when Anthony ran out of patience. “Well, thank you for that, Mother. I believe I shall be heading home now.”
“I know you are disinterested in acting like an adult, but you are a fully grown man, and you have responsibilities. You need to select a bride. The Season is nearly over, so I will give you a year. Find a bride by the end of next Season.”
“Mother.”
“I’m serious, Anthony. You cannot squander your prime. Do you know what they say about you? There is too much speculation about why you have not yet married.”
“And if I don’t choose a bride by the end of next Season?”
“That’s not an option.” Mother stared at him for a long moment. “If you do not choose a bride, I will choose one for you.”
As Anthony walked to Lark’s house, just a short distance from his mother’s, he reflected on the empty threat.
His mother couldn’t force him to marry. He’d already inherited the title.
She didn’t have any leverage over him. He was the one in power here.
And if he decided his cousin should become the next marquess, that was his decision, was it not?
He’d worked up a good, frothing anger by the time Lark let him in. Anthony stormed past Lark and into Lark’s parlor, a tastefully decorated room where he kept a good supply of brandy.
“And how was the dinner party?” Lark asked, closing the door behind him.
“Mother insists I marry by the end of next Season, but… she cannot force it, can she?”
Lark pressed his lips together for a long moment. Then he said, “You knew this was a possibility.”
“And I knew that as long as Grace Midwood remained unattached, I could postpone the decision.”
Lark sighed. He walked over to the cabinet and got out two glasses. “And you kept stringing that woman along, even though she’s beautiful and could have found someone she actually cared about instead of Owen.”
“Neither she nor Owen seemed too sad about it at the wedding.”
“Look, I support your project of postponing marriage as long as possible, but you must know that each of your actions has consequences and not just on yourself. Things had a…positive resolution where Grace Midwood is concerned, but if you choose to postpone marriage and the rumors that you and I both know are circulating get louder, the title you refuse to pass on becomes worthless anyway. If you don’t marry, you’ll be a pariah, and I know that is not what you want. ”
Anthony grunted. “What I want is to be with you.”
Lark poured two glasses of brandy. “I know. But…we knew this wasn’t…that is, we can never go public because we’ll both be hanged and… I never expected…”
“We thought it was a quick affair,” Anthony said. Instead, they fell in love, but Anthony knew better than to voice something so flowery. “We didn’t intend to grow so fond of each other.”
“Yes. Quite. And we both knew that at some point we’d have to marry.”
“And end our affair.”
“Yes, of course.”
“But can you tell me,” Anthony said, walking over to Lark to accept a glass of brandy, “that if I found some biddable debutante next Season and married her, you’d be willing to let me go?”
“It would…involve some hardship. But what choice do I have? I could not…that is, you’d have to father children, and I can’t… Just picturing you with…”
“You’d die of jealousy.”
Lark let out a breath and his shoulders dropped. “I do not like this situation any more than you do, but I am also realistic. If we both are seen around town together and we both postpone marriage until our hair begins to go gray, people will talk.”
“Let them talk.”
“I do not think you fully appreciate how much a tarnished reputation will put you out with the rest of society. As it is, people think you’re…”
“A lovable scamp?”
Lark rolled his eyes. “People find you bothersome. Never serious. Carefree.”
“Is this why society does not like me or why you do not like me?”
“Anthony, this thing between us, it cannot be forever. We both have obligations.”
“And now you sound like my mother.”
Lark let out a frustrated grunt. “I wish it were different. I’d marry you tomorrow if I could. I certainly like you better than any woman I’ve ever courted. But this is not the world we live in. Two men cannot….”
“Lark.”
“We cannot be in love,” Lark said.
Anthony set his glass aside. “And yet we are.” He cupped Lark’s face and pressed their lips together. He felt Lark surrender.
Something had changed in their relationship. What had started as a bit of fun had turned into something far deeper, and Anthony thought that, if Lark would let him, he would spend the rest of his life ensuring that Lark was happy.
“To the devil with obligations,” said Anthony.
“To the devil with duties and responsibilities. I never wanted to be a father. My father had four brothers, each of whom had several sons, and thus I see no reason why the oldest of my cousins should not inherit the title. I did not ask for these obligations. I was merely born into a titled family.”
“You’re not being realistic.”
“Perhaps. But Mother also gave me until the end of next Season. A lot can happen in thirteen months.”
“I do not expect the whole of society to change in that time,” Lark said, putting his hands on Anthony’s waist, “but I suppose if we have a clear last day of our affair, we might as well make the most of our time together.”
“Do you intend to leave me for some debutante next Season?”
“No, but—”
“Do you not also have the same so-called obligation? You shall be a duke someday, shall you not?”
“Yes, but—”
“Hush then, with this talk of obligation. We are free-thinking men who can make our own decisions, and this is a new century. It’s not like when our parents were having their marriages arranged. Society is changing.”
Lark shook his head. “That may be, but it is not changing enough. Not for what you and I are to each other to be socially acceptable.”
“I am content to keep it a secret. Men like us have had secret affairs since man first walked on Earth, I am certain of that. I do to want our affair to end.”
“You live in a fantasy world.”
Anthony smiled. “Perhaps I do. You should come live in it with me.”
“If only.”
“Come, let us drink this fine brandy and talk of less serious things.”
Lark looked like he wanted to protest, but he nodded. He picked up his glass and walked over to sit by the fire.
As Anthony sat in the chair beside him, Lark said, “We’re not finished with this discussion, you know.”
“I know. But we are for tonight.”