Chapter Eighteen
P
No specific entertainment was planned for that evening.
Though the dowager explained it as a desire to allow her guests and that evening’s additions to interact more freely, Linus thought she looked a little weary, the weight of hosting a two-week-long party apparently taking a toll.
Arabella, sitting beside her, looked more tired still.
And yet Linus kept to the other side of the room.
He’d found himself in enough entanglements without adding “fueling gossip” to the list.
Lampton was in rare form that night, making any number of inane observations, all of which were roaringly funny if one assumed that was his aim. After that afternoon’s scuffle, Linus felt certain the earl’s frivolity was, in large part, an act.
“I was justified in pounding him,” Adam muttered a full half hour after dinner, having been subjected to the commentary during the meal and the “performance” afterward.
Both he and Lampton were sporting poorly concealed cuts and bruises.
“There are few things as wasteful as a gentleman who chooses to be frivolous when he is fully capable of being an asset in the world.”
Linus eyed him sidelong. “What about one who chooses to be dastardly when he is fully capable of being at least a little bit personable?”
“Lampton already sermonized on that score. If you start preaching to me, I will drag you back to the river and grant you a renewed acquaintance with water.”
Linus always had enjoyed Adam’s flare for creative threats. “You mean to drown me?”
“You and then Harry. Then Lampton. And then your overly dramatic sister. That would simplify my life tremendously.” The return of Adam’s irritability put Linus firmly in mind of Caroline’s declaration that the duke was not grumpy but sad.
He watched his brother-in-law as the evening wore on.
There was, in fact, a degree of sadness in his expression but a vague and old one.
Persephone said Adam still deeply mourned his father’s passing.
She’d also said he’d experienced true sadness when Daphne had married and left home, and she expected the same to be true of Artemis’s departure.
How much of Adam’s fearsomeness was grief, sorrow he did not know how to work through?
Linus felt much of that same irremovable heartache.
His mother had died so long ago, yet he missed her every day.
His father’s loss had been slower and, in some ways, more tragic.
He had felt a sense of relief when the pain of such a slow decline had finally ended, but his heart had broken anew at losing his last remaining parent.
In a rush of unexpected emotion, his heart told his head what it had tried so hard to ignore.
Those losses were difficult and heavy, but none was so raw as Evander’s death.
They had been as close as two brothers could be, even before their time at sea had forged an even deeper bond.
Evander had been his closest friend, his only confidante, the one piece of his family he hadn’t lost. He had clung to that, to the fragile strand that held him to the life he’d known.
That strand had snapped on a cruel November day eleven years earlier. War did that. It stole things that could never be given back.
The reminder lay heavy on his heart. He could not sit with Arabella as he would prefer and allow her influence to lift his spirits.
He drifted toward the dowager, intending to make his excuses. The evening’s gathering had lost its appeal.
The “good evening” he’d meant to offer his hostess died unspoken at the look of concern in Arabella’s eyes. That set him to studying the dowager countess a bit more closely. What had appeared to be fatigue looked, on closer inspection, more like true illness.
Arabella moved to his side, her own appearance less than hardy, and whispered, “Will you sit with her? I need to alert Lord Lampton.”
“Of course.”
He took the seat she had occupied, watching as she slowly, wearily made her way toward the earl.
The dowager sat with her shoulders a bit slumped. She slowly shook her head, her mouth pulled into a tight line. She seemed to know that her illness had not been kept hidden and disliked the fuss she anticipated.
He kept his first remark light. “It appears grandmother could not resist the urge to rock her ailing grandchildren.”
She sighed, the sound one of annoyance. “That physician warned me not to, but he is something of a fusspot.”
“And, therefore, you didn’t listen.”
One corner of her creased mouth tipped upward. “I have never been good at obeying orders.”
“There are few things as formidable as a tenacious woman,” he said. “Of course, one need only look at my sisters to know where I learned that truth.”
Her smile was still genuine but weaker than usual. “Perhaps, Mr. Lancaster, you would be so good as to solve a mystery for me.”
“I will promise to be of any assistance I can.”
“You have been very sweetly attentive to our Arabella in the time you’ve been here. Why do you seem to be avoiding her now?”
That was certainly a direct question. “It was brought to my attention that whispers have begun, speculating on our connection and my intentions. Though I miss her company, I am attempting to quiet the gossip.”
“A difficult thing once it has begun.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“And you are an exemplary gentleman; I hope you also know that.”
Lord Lampton arrived. Though his dandification was not entirely absent, Linus saw precisely what he had seen on a few occasions: his unwavering gaze, the firm set of his jaw. In that moment, he was not ridiculous in the least.
There are few things as wasteful as a gentleman who chooses to be frivolous when he is fully capable of being an asset in the world.
“You have come to send me to bed, have you?” The dowager was clearly frustrated at the necessity, though she did not argue it.
“I have come to assure you that Sorrel means to oversee the remainder of the evening, which is something of a miracle unto itself.” He added the last in a low aside.
“I should have grown ill months ago,” the dowager said.
Lord Lampton helped her stand. Linus rose as well. Arabella looked on.
“Come now, Mater,” Lampton said. “You have earned an extra bit of rest tonight.”
“Have I also earned an extra cup of chocolate in the morning? I think I have.”
Lord Lampton chuckled as he led her away.
Arabella remained, watching them go. “I am afraid I will not be much help, being ill yet myself.”
“She will understand,” he assured her. “Indeed, you can offer something none of the rest of us can.”
She looked at him once more, curiosity in her expression.
“Empathy,” he said. “You know how she feels.”
Arabella’s gaze dropped for a moment before returning to his face. “I know there have been whispers. I’m sorry to have caused you trouble.”
“Those whispers are problematic for you as well,” he pointed out.
“I am a poor relation turned lady’s companion. I have far less to lose.”
Did she truly think he was the one who would suffer most should the whispers grow too loud?
“You’ve been so kind.” Regret filled her face. “Now that kindness has caused you grief.”
“We’ll both emerge from this fine; I’m certain of it,” he said. “I have my home to return to, and you have this one.”
Her hand moved to the bead on her necklace, though Linus doubted she made the gesture consciously. “I had best go see if the dowager needs anything. Thank you again for your goodness while I’ve been ill.”
“And thank you for your patience the many times I’ve told you of my problems.”
She nodded. “That is what friends are for, Linus Lancaster.”
Friends. That was not the word he wanted to hear, but it was the only one permitted between them.