Chapter Eleven #2
Harbury had the makings of a fine romantic, if only he could untangle himself from the one-time governess’s apron strings.
“I understood Viv’s first marriage,” Harbury droned on. “But for my father’s interference, I know in my heart she would have remained true!”
“Might I remind you, as I’ve done one hundred times before, that the incomparable Vivianne eloped with Pennington while still in half mourning for her first husband? If she’d been secretly pining for you all these years, don’t you think she would have come to you as soon as she was free?”
“That randy old goat Pennington!” Harbury scowled. “Probably seduced her at her most vulnerable.”
Again, Adrian shook his head. “I don’t understand why you can be so forgiving. She threw you over, not just once, but twice!”
Harbury fisted his hands in front of him. “We were cruelly separated by my father! Cruelly.”
Adrian winced. Harbury’s father had been powerful and demanding, but never cruel.
“Or,” Adrian reasoned, “to put it another way, the governess accepted money from your father, which she used as a dowry to attract a baronet. Then, not content to be a widow of a mere baronet, she eloped with a widowed earl against the wishes of his children all so she might become a countess.”
A very wealthy, very stylish, very independent countess.
“Perhaps her tendre for you was real, but you, my dear Harbury, come with scores of responsibilities. And responsibilities have never been Vivianne’s strong point.”
Harbury scowled. “I’ll not listen to another word against my dearest Viv.”
Adrian looped his hands around Harbury’s wrists, easily preventing him from covering his ears. “Let me guess. When you saw Pennington dancing with his wife, you decided Vivianne needed to see you in the arms of a bright, young filly?
Harbury jerked away and grunted.
Adrian raised a brow.
“Don’t look at me in that fashion. I know I was wrong. I should have asked the chit properly. Waited to find out if she’d permission.” He tore his hands away from Adrian and held his head. “How, in a moment of—”
“Jealousy?”
“—pain, was I to remember all the rules?”
“How, indeed?” Harbury was not usually this obtuse. “You’re a duke. Your entire life is bound by rules.”
Harbury gazed up with pitiful, bloodshot eyes. “I’d give up the dukedom to be free.”
“No, you wouldn’t, Harbury.”
Harbury gazed at him in woeful reproach.
Adrian dropped onto the seat. Harbury was a mess.
He’d been this way on occasion when they were younger, but the old duke had raised him well—duty brought out Harbury’s best. Still, it had only been a year since he’d taken his father’s mantle. As evidenced by this night’s adventures, he was unhealed.
Beneath them both ran the same undercurrent of… what? Selfish restlessness?
They were both seekers. Discontented idealists.
Perhaps the time had come for them both to make a serious change.
“So, you’ve unintentionally caught yourself a debutante,” Adrian mused. Was that such a horrible thing? Maybe spending time with another young lady would finally break Harbury of the Vivianne Spell. “Is the girl pretty?”
“Yes,” Harbury replied. “At least I think she was.”
“Well-mannered?”
“How should I know?” Harbury threw up his hands. “Meek enough, at least, to be led into an improper dance.”
“Perhaps you will discover you like her.”
“No use.” Harbury propped his elbows on his spread knees, looking down into the glass he’d dangled in the space between his legs. “There is only Vivianne. There will only ever be Vivianne.”
So theatrical.
Good Lord. Bessie had made the same accusation of him. Had he been as insufferable as Harbury?
“If you are so against courting the young lady, why did you agree to meet her tomorrow?”
“Asquith put a gun to my head.” Harbury pointed at his temple, his hand in the shape of a firearm. “A tidy, shiny, already-cocked flintlock.”
“Asquith? You must be jesting.”
“Never seen him so spitting mad. Can’t say as I blame him really. He has all those Wainwright girls to marry off before he can move out of the Albany and back into his own house.”
Adrian couldn’t believe Asquith had lost his usually cool head simply because he wanted to move back into Asquith House.
As Adrian could attest, there were many reasons a man might not want to live in his family home.
Adrian also knew what it was like to feel responsible for a young relation.
If someone had done to Emily what Harbury had done to one of Asquith’s relations, Adrian would surely have cocked a flintlock of his own.
“How many Wainwright girls are there?”
“Five. Though the younger three aren’t out yet. I’m to meet Lady Asquith and the two eldest Misses Wainwright tomorrow in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour. I’m to act as if I’m terribly interested in the chit I forced to dance and then invite her and her eldest sister to the Harbury ball.”
“That doesn’t sound too taxing.”
“But my punishment doesn’t end there. I’m also to escort—” He seized Adrian’s forearm. He spoke urgently, as if just having come to a profound realization. “Wait! There are two young women!”
“Yes?”
“And there are two of us! You’ll come with me, won’t you?”
Adrian twisted in Harbury’s grasp, slowly shaking his head. “I doubt Lady Asquith would want me there, given my imperfect family history.”
Imperfect being a mild way of describing his family’s past.
“Yes, yes. The awful business with your parents. Still, that was nearly two decades ago. You are a marquess as well as a decorated soldier. And Lady Asquith has five goddaughters to marry off.”
“I suppose, if she’s desperate.”
“She is.” Harbury was too drunk to catch Adrian’s sarcasm.
“I was jesting, Harbury. I’ve no desire to wed.”
“Neither do I. And I don’t have to wed her, I only have to court her.
” He nodded to himself. “Lady Asquith might hope for marriage, but all I agreed to do was behave in a pretty, solicitous fashion toward the chit, appear with her at the opera, a few functions, and the Harbury ball. They’re hoping that the Patronesses will reconsider their edict. ”
“And if they do not? What will Lady Asquith do when no offer of marriage from you materializes? One does not antagonize a well-connected dowager if one wishes to live in social peace.”
There wasn’t a member of the ton Asquith’s mother didn’t count as a friend or relation. And she’d lived the whole of her life beyond reproach. She was just the kind of person one did not cross…
Adrian inhaled sharply.
…In fact, Lady Asquith was exactly the kind of ally one sought, when one was—ahem—a shade shy of respectable but had a beloved younger sister to introduce to the ton.
What if Asquith’s plan was sound?
Might a sham courtship be the first step in ingratiating himself with Lady Asquith and—by extension—the ton, too?
“Come with me. Please?” Harbury begged. “Entertain the sister. Please?”
Adrian leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees, and bounced a fist against his lips as he considered.
I said her price was marriage. I did not say she wished to marry you.
Inwardly, he winced, just as he did every time he thought of that pithy exchange.
If he was serious about repairing his reputation, he’d not only have to engage with the social whirl of the season but also make himself appear an attractive catch. The Blackbird—according to Bessie—hadn’t wanted him because she’d thought him arrogant and aloof.
If that was the general opinion, being seen with Lady Asquith and the Misses Wainwright couldn’t hurt.
Only there must be no room for misunderstanding.
He wanted to improve his standing, not to give rise to hopes he’d be unlikely to fulfill.
To Miss Wainwright, he must be plain about his intentions—and his reasons—from the start. Only if she agreed would he proceed with the plan.
“If Lady Asquith does not object, I will attend the opera with you,” he decided. “Will you agree to attend a private viewing at the Royal Academy with me? Should things go well, you could invite the Misses Wainwright.”
“A dashed good idea. But the Royal Academy? Doesn’t sound like you at all!”
“I’ve promised to escort Caroline and Emily. Emily has been studying painting. She’s enamored with one of the instructors.” He smiled, recalling his younger sister’s exuberance. “I’m told he does breathtaking things with landscape and light.”
“Famous!” Harbury exclaimed. “The more people in the party, the less I will have to be taxed with entertaining Miss Cassandra.”
“Then you won’t mind if I ask Caroline and Emily to meet us in the park tomorrow, too?”
“I do not care who you invite, as long as you’re there.”
He’d pen a note to Caroline later in the morning. If he were going to be sociable—inwardly, he shivered—he might as well start now. Emily would enjoy a ride through the park. And Lady Asquith had always cherished a soft spot for Caroline.
“And you’ll come to my ball?” Harbury asked.
“There, I must decline.” He couldn’t be expected to change everything about himself all at once. “You know I’ve lost all taste for dancing.”
“You accompanied me to the Hartford affair. And the Barton one, too.”
“Both were excruciating. And I didn’t dance.”
“I’ll make you change your mind.”
Adrian shook his head as Harbury downed the rest of his drink.
“Perhaps you are right,” Harbury said. “Perhaps this courtship isn’t the worst thing that could happen. Might even make Viv—”
“Ahem.” Adrian interrupted. “You had better put Viv out of your mind for the duration. Don’t want yet another necessary distraction.” He hauled Harbury up by the arm. “Now, get to bed.”
Harbury stood up on unsteady legs, then he crashed into Adrian’s shoulder. He sniffed, drew back, and then sniffed again.
“What’s that?” Harbury’s eyes narrowed. “I smell woman.”
Adrian groaned. “Maybe because I have been with a woman.”
“Ha! At least one of us passed a pleasurable night. Let me live vicariously—tell me all about it.”
“You know I never talk about that sort of thing.” Adrian grimaced. He’d his own forgetting to do.
“You might take pity.” Harbury’s brow wrinkled hopefully. “Just this once.”
“Not a chance.” If Adrian was going to cease to remember the Blackbird and the sting of her ultimate rejection, he had to box away the memories for good.
Fortunately, he’d plenty experience with distraction.