Chapter 16
The sun was setting as Laurence and Lord Hargrove faced each other. Around them, the dining room buzzed with activity. Only James seemed to be aware of the incoming storm.
“Oh, how could I ever miss an event like this?” Hargrove chuckled. “I say, you and your wife truly have a talent.”
Laurence clenched his fists at his sides. He hated that this man had wormed his way into such a happy occasion. He took a deep breath.
He couldn’t let this man ruin this for Edith.
“I am aware that my wife has many talents. Which talent would you be referring to?” Laurence asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Indeed, there are many! Decoration, event organization, and public speaking. Truly, she is much more charismatic than I gave her credit for!” he grinned.
“I seem to remember she also had a talent for dancing. She was wonderful when we last spoke; I could hardly keep my eyes off her as she danced with Lord Dunwich.”
Laurence bit his tongue, not wanting to remember the young man who’d had his arms around Edith at the last ball. Although that night had ended well for him, he still resented that man.
“Yes, my wife is rather wonderful when you give her the space and resources to be at her full capacity,” Laurence said.
“And what resources she has here!” Lord Hargrove barked out a laugh. “She really has fallen on her feet, hmm?”
“Well,” Laurence said. “Her Grace had been doing well on her own. Her charitable efforts were highly effective without my influence.”
“Indeed, but money and time certainly do help,” Lord Hargrove nodded.
“Yes, although I’d argue half the battle would be the dedication one needs to these kinds of pursuits,” Laurence replied.
“Oh, I can see the dedication,” Lord Hargrove nodded with a sneer.
“And what exactly is that meant to imply?” Laurence asked coldly.
“I can’t imagine what you mean,” Lord Hargrove shrugged. “It’s rather clear to the rest of the Ton what is happening.”
“The Ton will see whatever it wishes to see,” Laurence said.
“Ah, you always did think the worst of others,” Hargrove laughed, playing it off as a joke. Laurence didn’t return the man’s mirth.
“Forgive my pessimism, I’m sure you understand where it has come from,” he said.
“Oh! Of course! Tell me, do you really think a little foundling satisfies that pesky clause in your father’s will?” Lord Hargrove said, the edge of his lips curling up into a sneer.
James materialized at Laurence’s elbow.
“Lord Hargrove! What a surprise. I wasn’t aware you’d developed such an interest in charitable works,” James said, his smile tight.
“Oh, Lord Mallowby.” Hargrove’s smile sharpened. “One tries to support endeavors that benefit the deserving poor. Though of course, determining who is truly deserving can be so… challenging.”
“I’m certain Her Grace has impeccable judgment,” James said lightly, though his eyes were hard.
“Impeccable! What a word,” Lord Hargrove sipped his champagne. “Though I suppose when one takes in a child of unknown parentage—a guttersnipe, as it were—one must have tremendous faith in one’s instincts.”
The word ‘guttersnipe’ dropped like a stone into still water. Edith’s head snapped around when she heard it. Ripples of shocked murmurs spread outward.
“How rude.”
“Did he just insult Miss Tilly?”
“Let us get closer so I can hear.”
Laurence’s hands clenched at his sides. He glanced over to where Tilly was. Thankfully, she hadn’t heard.
“You will not speak of my daughter that way,” he growled.
“Oh, yes, your daughter. But she is not yours by blood, is she? For it seems you have yet to sire a child, hmm?” Lord Hargrove smirked.
“I do not believe that adoption is any less noble than having a family by blood,” Laurence growled.
“How virtuous a position.” Lord Hargrove nodded. “Although it does seem to imply that something isn’t, ahem, working quite right. After all, you both have been married for how many months now?”
Laurence felt his ears redden at the insinuation.
“Well, now, there’s no need to speak of these things with Miss Tilly so close,” James chided. “That’s not the sort of thing a child should hear.”
“Oh, you shelter her, Lord Mallowby. These street urchins know much more than we civilized adults give them credit for,” Lord Hargrove said savagely.
“You have no cause to assume that Miss Tilly is less mannered due to her start in life,” James said. “She has a wonderful governess and has been under His Grace’s care for some time now.”
“Yes, and look at the consequences! Her Grace has practically transformed this place and the duchy itself into an orphan’s playground!” Lord Hargrove laughed.
Laurence felt a muscle in his jaw twitch and had to take a deep breath to calm himself.
“Mind your words, Lord Hargrove,” he warned, his hands twitching at his sides.
“Mind my words? Your Grace, I do believe there are more important things to mind,” Lord Hargrove sneered. “After all, how are we supposed to believe that the duchy is in good hands when your only child is… that?” He tilted his head to indicate Tilly.
“Excuse me?” Laurence hissed.
“I mean, surely you see the issue. You took in a child without knowing her parentage. One might question if you’re still fit to dine with the rest of the peerage.”
“You’ve made your opinion abundantly clear, Hargrove,” James interjected. “Perhaps we should—”
“But I haven’t finished expressing my admiration!” Lord Hargrove protested. “After all, Your Grace, you’ve done what your father and grandfather never did. You’ve shown mercy to the lower classes. How… progressive of you!”
There it was.
Laurence could now see where Lord Hargrove wanted to steer the conversation. As much as he wanted to extricate himself, they were now surrounded. There was no path down which he could retreat.
He saw Edith trying to shove her way through the crowd, her face clouded with worry. Out of the corner of his eye, he could also see that the ladies standing with Tilly had turned to watch.
“My father’s actions are not mine to answer for,” he gritted out.
“Aren’t they?” Lord Hargrove cocked his head, all false sympathy.
“But surely the duchy’s legacy includes its history.
The business dealings. The… shall we say, less charitable treatment of tenants in times past.” His gaze swept the room, ensuring his audience was listening.
“Why, I recall hearing about certain properties being demolished to make room for the castle gardens. Or am I remembering the time that a certain farmer was fleeced of his land? And then there was that unfortunate fire—”
“I do think that’s enough about the past. We should be focusing on Her Grace and the great work she’s doing,” James cut in. “Don’t you agree, Your Grace?”
Laurence felt the room tilt as Lord Hargrove brought his family’s shame out into the light. His heart began to race dangerously fast. His mouth was dry, his hands were shaking, and a rush of adrenaline flooded through him as the room fell silent.
Everyone was now watching. A high-pitched whine rang in his ears, and his breath came faster, shallower, as if his body was preparing for flight… or a fight.
Tilly’s words echoed in his head.
“Well, if anyone is mean to you, you tell me. I’ll tell them off for you.”
Edith’s words followed.
“Your father was wrong about a lot of things. Most of all, he was wrong when he said you were a disgrace to the duchy.”
Laurence took a long, deep breath. He would not let this heartless, vulgar man get the better of him. Not tonight.
“I agree, Lord Mallowby,” he said, standing a little straighter.
Lord Hargrove sneered and narrowed his eyes at him. “At least your father was honest about his cruelty,” he scoffed.
Laurence’s vision blurred.
Weak men are forgotten, his father’s voice hissed in his ear.
For a moment, he thought he could contain his fury. He was wrong.
Smash.
Laurence’s fist connected with Lord Hargrove’s face, the force of the blow launching him into the air.
The man crashed onto the wooden floor, his head narrowly missing the corner of a table. Blood dripped from his broken nose and pooled under his cheek.
Laurence felt a rush of vindication. Lord Hargrove had had this coming for a while.
But then someone screamed.
Laurence blinked and looked around. He’d been so caught up in his rage, he’d forgotten where he was.
Gasps and whispers filled the room.
“Your Grace.” Edith ran to his side. “Are you all right?”
Laurence shook his head.
She reached out to take his hand, but he pulled it away from her.
“Laurence, talk to me,” Edith murmured. “What Lord Hargrove said was unspeakably rude and uncalled for. I need you to listen to me and take a deep breath.”
Laurence nodded, trying his best to breathe. It was a futile effort. Blood still dripped from his knuckles.
Lord Hargrove groaned and sat up, rubbing his jaw and wiping blood from his shattered nose. “Now, really, is that any way to treat your guest?”
“You dare ask about our manners when you have been insulting and goading my husband?” Edith snapped.
“I was pointing out what should have been common sense to everyone here,” Lord Hargrove sneered.
“You were being openly callous and cruel,” Edith hissed. “Not only that, but you were insulting a child and making uncouth remarks about my marriage!”
“Which marriage?” Lord Hargrove snorted. “Your first or your second?”
“My first husband died; that is not a scandal,” Edith spat.
“Oh, of course not,” Lord Hargrove hissed. He spat blood onto the floor.
Laurence watched, feeling no remorse.
“Get the physician,” Edith called out to one of the maids.
The young woman nodded and ran out of the room.
“No, no, I would hate to inconvenience you.” Lord Hargrove scowled.
“You have done much more than that tonight,” Edith retorted. “So please, sit down.”
Lord Hargrove sighed as if relenting, but Laurence could see him wincing in pain. His blood was dripping on the floor.
Laurence swallowed hard, his hands trembling, and the tremors were moving up his arms.
“Beast.”
“Brute.”
Monster.”
“Violent.”