Page 58 of A Lady's Wager
Julian recognized the meddling tone Franklin was beginning to employ and thought it best to squelch such things quickly. “I know what it is to be made unhappy by one’s family. And as someone has connected her fate with mine, I would feel a little bit guilty if that eventual outcome was in any way made less pleasant than it would otherwise be because of my behavior these next few weeks.”
“Do you at least think last night’s efforts were useful?” Franklin asked. “I mean in terms of delaying the possibility of a wedding in four weeks’ time?”
Julian nodded. “There certainly were no opportunities for Mr. Vernon to have any more tender interactions with her. I can say with certainty that he did not further any suit he might have been pursuing while I was there last night.”
Franklin nodded in obvious satisfaction. “Then, despite some setbacks, the evening was successful.”
On the surface, Julian would agree. And yet … “I had the very real impression that Lord Tarrant has taken a significant dislike to me.”
“Over the course of a single evening? Were you making yourself more obnoxious than you are admitting?”
Julian shook his head. “His demeanor was stiff and cold when I first arrived among them. It grew more so as the evening progressed. I believe he had decided to disapprove of me before he even knew I was going to be there.”
“That seems unlikely,” Franklin said, generous friend that he was. “I’m not saying it’s impossible for anyone to take a dislike to you; youareobnoxious, after all.”
“Then what is it you are saying, Franklin?” He pretended to be deeply offended by his friend’s declaration.
“As near as I’m aware, you have had very few interactions with the earl, almost none. For him to take such a dislike to you when you are not even that well acquainted is odd indeed.”
“If you ask me,” Julian said, “everything about this mess I’ve managed to toss myself into is strange.”
“Was Sir Duncan in attendance?” Franklin asked.
“He was, though I was spared the misery of actually speaking with him.”
Franklin pointed with his chin toward Rotten Row. “You won’t be able to avoid that misery this morning.”
Sure enough, Sir Duncan himself was riding toward them. The man was not a cad or a rake in the truest sense of the word, and it would be difficult to accuse him rightfully of anything that actually robbed him of his status as a gentleman, but he was arrogant and thoughtless except in matters pertaining to his own enjoyment. He was unpleasant, but not cruel. He was the sort of person one avoided but wasn’t truly afraid of. Unfortunately, hewas also the very person who was about to undermine Julian’s peaceful morning.
He came up even with them, his mount wearing the same expression of self-importance as its rider.
“I didn’t realize you rose this early,” Julian said. “Most who were up late last night are likely still in bed.”
“That would explain why Mr. Daubney is here so bright-eyed. I do not believe the Barrows extended an invitation to you.”
“How fortunate I am that the common folk are being admitted to the Brantleys’ ball this evening.” Franklin made the observation dryly but with no indication of actual hurt.
“Oh, are the two of you meaning to attend?” Sir Duncan managed to make the question seem almost like mockery.
“We will weigh our many invitations against each other and make a decision when the time comes.” Julian steadfastly ignored the look of laughter in Franklin’s eyes.
“If you cannot stay up that late,” Sir Duncan said, “you might manage to drop in on an earlier gathering and preserve your energy for riding tomorrow, perhaps on two horses actually worth riding.”
“I’ve no arguments with my choice of horseflesh,” Julian said.
“Is this a horse?” Franklin asked in a tone of mock stupidity.
Sir Duncan must’ve been terribly distracted by what he was about to say. He neither looked annoyed by Franklin’s dry humor nor did he offer any retorts of his own.
“Perhaps you would care to test your nags against my beast here. I paid a small fortune for him,” Sir Duncan said. “I can’t imagine either of you could say the same.”
It was certainly meant to be both a reflection on their horses, which, truth be told, were perfectly acceptable, and on their relative poverty compared to himself. Julian had long since grown accustomed to financial inferiority; Sir Duncan pointingit out didn’t bother him in the least. Franklin, whose family claimed a perfectly comfortable income, did not possess a pride so fragile that he felt the need to defend himself against such a comment from someone he cared so very little about.
“A race would be an excellent idea,” Julian said. “To the end of Rotten Row?”
Sir Duncan appeared terribly pleased with himself. “I’ll make certain to congratulate the both of you when you eventually arrive.” He turned his horse in the direction they were meant to race. “I will allow one of you to give the signal to begin.”
Julian met Franklin’s eyes and could see they both had the same plan in mind.
