Chapter Thirteen
P
Linus’s mind was fully spinning. That very morning he had congratulated himself on having shed much of the nervousness he’d felt in Miss Hampton’s company.
Standing so close to her just now, with his arm around her, that nervousness had returned in full force, accompanied by something new and unexpected: sometime in the last few days, he’d developed a small fancy for her.
Although, judging by how hard his pulse was still pounding long after she’d left, he had to admit that fancy might not be so small.
How had that happened? When had it happened?
He needed a quiet place to think.
The back terrace proved the wrong choice. Artemis and Charlie were already there. She was prattling on while he sat in silent and obvious disinterest. Linus stopped only a few steps onto the terrace, trying to decide if he should stay or keep searching for solitude.
“Perhaps you will be in London next Season,” Artemis said to Charlie. “You should be old enough by then.”
“Which would make you more than old enough, wouldn’t it?” Charlie muttered, slouching down in his chair.
Artemis bristled a little. “I am the same age you are.”
“Bad form, my man,” Linus said, pulling their attention to him. “Never cast aspersions upon a lady’s age.”
“She was casting aspersions on mine,” Charlie said.
“It is for a gentleman to endure, not reciprocate.”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “Believe me, nothing about this exchange is reciprocated.”
Artemis’s eyes widened. “You are not enjoying talking with me?”
“Talking with you? There is no with. I am being talked at. I am not even certain you ever stop for air, let alone a reply.”
She tipped her chin up confidently. “I will have you know there are any number of gentlemen who enjoy my conversation, seek it out even. They arrive in droves, hoping for even a moment’s exchange of words.”
Charlie dropped his head against his upturned hand. “Could you not find one of them to talk at? I am getting a headache.”
Artemis’s lips pursed, and she leaned menacingly forward on her chair. “I don’t like you, Charles Jonquil.”
“I don’t care,” he replied. “And do not call me Charles.”
All the haughty assurance returned to Artemis’s posture and tone. “You prefer Charlie? That is a child’s nickname. It is ridiculous for you to cling to it.”
Charlie looked across at her, not with anger or challenge but with a growing weariness. “Do you truly want to engage in a competition over whose name is more ridiculous, Artemis?”
She stood, the very picture of offended dignity.
“Artemis, do calm yourself.” Linus’s attempt to rein her in was ignored.
“My name is dignified and important,” she said. “You have a forgettable name because you are a forgettable person. Your own family overlooks you.”
Charlie stood as well, matching her challenging posture. “And I have seen how your family looks at you. They don’t forget you’re present; they simply wish you weren’t.”
“Enough.” Adam’s bark likely echoed across the entire back lawn.
Though Linus had heard it many times before, even he felt a chill enter the air at that commanding and threatening tone.
Adam crossed the terrace to where the combatants stood, his bearing that of the Dangerous Duke all of Society feared. “Artemis, apologize.”
She turned a sickeningly sweet smile on Charlie. “I am sorry to have told you something you likely already know.”
“Again,” Adam said.
Artemis’s jaw tightened, and her hands curled in fists. Still speaking to Charlie, she said, “I apologize for speaking rudely.”
“Again. You’ll keep at it until you do it right.”
Linus had wondered if Adam was equal to the task of dealing with their often-difficult youngest sister.
He was beginning to realize that an unbending guardian who was not easily distracted and who cared very little for how he was perceived was likely the best thing for her.
Artemis could not bend him to her will the way she did so many others.
After a breath so deep it flared her nostrils, Artemis made a third attempt. “Mr. Jonquil, I apologize for the things I said. They were uncalled for and inappropriate.”
“Better,” Adam said. His steely gaze fell on Charlie. “Your turn.”
That he had offered Charlie the opportunity to apologize rather than calling him out or skinning him alive was a stroke of tremendous fortune, whether or not Charlie realized it. To the young gentleman’s credit, he wasn’t quaking in his boots, though some of his bluster had died away.
“No matter the provocation, my remarks were inexcusable,” he said. “I hope that you will accept my apology for any pain I may have inflicted.”
Both young people offered very stiff, very abbreviated motions of acceptance, though neither looked at the other nor gave any indication of being truly abject.
“Come with me, Artemis,” Adam said. “We need to have a discussion.”
“I do not wish to,” she said, quite on her dignity.
“I did not ask you what you wished; I told you what needed to happen.”
She set her fists on her hip. “I am not a child.”
“Yes, you are,” he said. “And that is precisely the problem. Now, come with me before I lose patience with you.”
She followed her brother-in-law back inside with her chin notched upward and her self-importance wrapped firmly around her.
Linus hoped Adam and Persephone could help her mature in the ways she needed but without entirely dousing her spirit.
The undertaking would have to fall to them; he simply didn’t know her well enough.
His own sister, and he only vaguely knew her. Evander would never have allowed himself to grow so distant from his own family.
Charlie dropped into his chair again. “I’m sorry about that,” he muttered. “I know she’s your sister, but I really don’t like her.”
“Would it surprise you if I told you that you are likely the only person who feels that way?”
Charlie shot him a look of such disbelief that Linus had little choice but to laugh. “How could anyone endure her mindless prattle and self-aggrandizing conversation? It drives me mad.”
Linus thought on that a moment. “Mindless prattle is common in Society, expected of a young lady. That is what her conversation leans toward most of the time. The haughtiness I don’t see often.”
“It is grating,” Charlie said.
“Grating or not, you do have to be kinder when speaking to ladies. That is part of being a gentleman.”
Charlie leaned his head back against the chair. “Apparently my father used to say things like that a lot, about treating girls and women and ladies the right way. My brothers have mentioned it often.”
“Did you not know him?”
“I did.” Charlie’s voice lost much of its edge and a good amount of its volume.
“I just don’t remember him well. If he were here, I could ask him what to do with my life and how to act when I don’t know and .
. .” The sentence dangled a minute. “He would have had time for me. I know he would have. And he wouldn’t forget about me. ”
Did Artemis have any idea how tragically precise her aim had been with that verbal barb? Linus knew what it was to be lonely, what it was to not feel a part of one’s family.
“Perhaps”—how he hoped the offer he was about to make would prove a welcome one—“when you next have a school holiday, you might come visit me in Shropshire rather than come here. Mine is not a large estate, and it’s comparatively humble, but it is pleasant and peaceful.”
“Are you in earnest?” Charlie eyed him doubtfully. “You would wish me to visit?”
“I would enjoy it immensely.”
For the first time since his sparring match with Artemis, Charlie looked encouraged. Just as quickly, his expression darkened again. “Will Miss Top Lofty be there?”
Linus shook his head. “She lives in Northumberland with the duke and duchess. I live alone.”
Charlie laughed humorlessly. “Sometimes, so do I.”
“I hope you will come.” He meant it. “We could both use the company.”
They talked for some time about the things they could do during this hypothetical visit. And the longer they discussed the possibility, the more eager Linus became. A feeling of camaraderie and brotherhood he’d not experienced since before Evander’s death began to tiptoe over him.
Lord Lampton stepped out onto the terrace. His gaze fell immediately on his brother. “I passed His Grace in the corridor.”
Charlie groaned quietly. “I’m in the suds now.”
“I thought you were past your troublemaking stage,” Lampton said.
“It’s not a stage; it’s a talent.” A heavy dose of sarcasm hung in the declaration.
Lampton crossed to where they sat and loomed over his brother. “When Mater hears of this latest mischief, she’ll have your neck.” Lampton shook his head. “You spend an awful lot of time ruffling her.”
“We all have our role in this family,” Charlie muttered.
Lampton turned to Linus. “Your brother-in-law doesn’t mean to call him out. Do you?”
“No,” Linus said. “The young people have sorted it out between them.”
Lampton glanced at Charlie. He sighed as he turned away. “What are we going to do with you?”
“Same thing you always do,” Charlie muttered as his brother returned to the house. “Walk away.”
q
The evening’s entertainments were limited to mingling and a game of whist at a corner table.
The guest list, however, was longer than it had been on previous nights.
Lord and Lady Marsden and Lady Belinda were present, as were Mr. Stroud and Mrs. Blackbourne.
A Mr. and Mrs. Widdleston and their daughter were in attendance.
A young Mr. Carter and his sister were as well.
The guests mingled but not with Miss Hampton. Linus couldn’t make sense of it. He would have spent the entire evening with her if he’d been permitted to. As it was, his evening passed in the far less pleasant pursuit of avoiding his sisters and the glint of determination in their eyes.
Persephone still managed to corner him.
“How is Oliver?” he asked, keeping to safe topics.
“Resting,” she said. “His father, on the other hand, is still something of a mess.”