Page 15 of An Earl Unmasked
The unease that had settled deep in his chest had yet to alleviate. Why seeing the small woman who had brazened her way into his home, laying hurt, was more petrifying than any other experience he’d lived through to date was confounding.
He lifted his glass and consumed the warm amber liquid as a scratch at the door echoed through the room. “Enter.”
Gregory strode into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. “Care for some company?” Diana’s brother sank into the chair next to his and stretched his legs to cross them at the ankles. The man looked all too comfortable.
Randal stood and glared down at his guest. “One would think all the trespassing signs would convey my sentiments.” He walked over to the sideboard and grabbed the decanter to refill his glass. Calling over his shoulder, Randal asked, “Brandy?”
“Not this eve.”
Randal shook his head and raised the extra glass that was generously filled to his mouth and gulped down the drink. He’d have a sore head in the morn, but he was desperate to numb the ache in his chest. Instead of returning to his chair, he chose to stand by the fireplace, allowing him a clear view of Gregory. “From my field experience, inflammation of a twisted ankle can be assessed adequately after twenty-four hours. Why did you declare the need for seventy-two hours?”
Gregory leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I was not aware you had received medical training while abroad. I’d assumed as one of Wellington’s most trusted captains, you had other more pressing issues to deal with than tend to your men’s injuries.”
“A leader should be well versed in his men’s strengths and weaknesses before going into combat.” He focused on the liquid that he swirled around and around in his glass. The muscles at the back of Randal’s neck tensed as he lifted his gaze to meet Gregory’s knowing eyes.
Gregory asked, “If you suspected something amiss, why agree to allow us to stay?”
An excellent question. Randal wished he knew the answer. The Malburys were a perplexing lot, especially Diana. His decision to allow them all to reside under his roof had absolutely nothing to do with his befuddling reactions to her presence. Mayhap it was purely to appease his curiosity as to what exactly his papa had bequeathed to the woman.
Pushing away from the mantel, Randal replied, “I’ve learned over the years it is best to keep one’s enemies close.”
Gregory bolted to his feet. “Enemies! We are neighbors. We have no quibbles with you.”
“Mayhap you do not; however, I suspect if you were to ask your sisters, their answers may differ.”
“Lord Chestwick, I believe you are correct yet again.” The young man’s forehead wrinkled as he sank back down into his chair. “It is true, my sisters tend to consider any perspective suitors as adversaries rather than potential beaus. However, after the calamity of last Season, my mama will no doubt devise some scheme to see them all wed before they even realize what is occurring.”
Before he could stop himself, Randal asked, “Why was it a disaster?”
“Pray forgive me. While you have been fighting upon the Continent, my sisters believe they have been fighting for a future that most do not believe attainable.” While Diana spoke in poetry, her brother spoke in riddles. He had best stop consuming the full-flavored brandy that remained in his glass. “Mr. Malbury…”
“Please call me Greg or Malbury, everyone does but my family.”
He should let the matter go, but oddly he needed to know the answer. “Very well, Malbury, what events occurred this past Season for you to declare it a disaster?”
“Hmm…”
“I find it helpful to start from the very beginning.”
“Indeed. It all began with Mansville’s demand that Minerva marry him. He had been her first challenger, and he claimed no other gentleman had come close to defeating the Ice Queen.”
“Was it true?”
“In fairness, it did officially take Minerva twenty-two moves to defeat Mansville at chess, while it took her a mere sixteen to eighteen moves to trounce the rest.”
“Exactly how many gentlemen?”
Malbury used his fingers and counted. “Four publicly known and two unbeknownst to theton.”
“Given that your sister remains unwed, I gather she wasnotin favor of Mansville’s suit.”
Malbury’s shoulders slumped forward. “Minerva never told any of us why or how she concocted the ridiculous challenge for her hand. She is also extremely stubborn, and once her mind is set, there is no changing it.”
“I can’t believe there is no one worthy or capable of such a task.”
“Oh, but there is.” Malbury leaned back in his chair and pinned Randal with an unswerving stare. “Diana and I are certain of it, but the gentleman in question claims he is not suited for marriage and won’t attempt to play Minerva, even if we arranged the match to be played with the upmost discretion and away from the prying eyes of theton.” His guest stood and paced in a tight, small circle. It was evident the family was not the type to remain still for long periods. “Until Minerva is wed, I suspect my sisters Isadora and Diana shall not agree to marry. Whether it be out of defiance to our mother’s wishes or to show their support of Minerva’s endeavor, it matters naught. All three of my sisters cleverly deflected the attentions of several gentlemen this past Season. And since leaving London, our mother has yet to cease bemoaning what she has deemed was the worst Season of the decade.”
“There is always next Season,” Randal said.
