Page 14 of His Lordship's True Lady
“You have to try, Hess.” Worth kept his voice down. “You can’t dismiss every woman on the first dance. Many a young widow wouldn’t mind winters in the north when there’s a title involved. We fellows all look the same in the dark.”
Worth was a financial genius, seeing opportunities where others saw only risk and sniffing out risk where others saw certain reward. He’d grown enormously wealthy on the strength of his commercial instincts, and he’d put the earldom’s finances on the path to good health as well.
In other regards, dear Worth could be a nincompoop.
“Marriage involves more than groping about in the dark, Worth. In fact, the groping part ceases to hold much interest all too quickly, and then you’re left trying to think up ways to avoid meals together.”
“I’m sorry. I hadn’t any idea your first marriage was so bleak.”
Neither had Hessian, until recently. The prospect of remarrying had occasioned some reflection, as had a certain conversation with Miss Lily Ferguson.
The need to find a step-mama for Daisy made taking a bride more urgent, but discussions with Lily Ferguson made Hess less willing to offer for just any good-natured young lady. Daisy’s needs were important, and more complicated than he’d first realized.
As were his own needs.
“My first marriage was bearable. Unlike Lily Ferguson, her ladyship never outgrew a penchant for dramatics and mischief. I’ll choose more wisely this time, and then you—”
One of the young men had detached himself from the rest of the raucous group doing justice to the club’s selection of spirits.
“Grampion, Sir Worth. Good evening.”
“Islington.” Worth spared the fellow a nod.
Islington had come down from university five or six years ago and thus considered himself quite the rake about Town. His blond hair was done in an elaborate Brutus, and his cravat had likely taken half the afternoon to tie. Neither affectation hid the fact that his waistcoat strained at every button, and his breath would have felled an elephant at forty paces.
“Noticed Grampion riding out with the Ferguson chit the other morning.”
Lily Ferguson was not achit.“The park is lovely this time of year, and Miss Ferguson is excellent company.”
Islington remained by the table.
Hess sent Worth a look.Invite him to sit, and I shall kill you slowly and without remorse.Worth busied himself pouring exactly the same measure of wine into both glasses.
Islington grasped his lapels. “Excellent company, yes. Well. Others have thought the same. You’re new to Town, and Lily Ferguson isn’t. New to Town. You see.” He winked, or perhaps an insect had flown into his eye.
Worth cleared his throat.
“I’m not sure I take your meaning,” Hessian said, “me being new to Town and all.”
Islington leaned closer, bringing with him the stench of prolonged overimbibing. “The damned girl looks well enough, and she’s bound to have decent settlements and all, but she’s much too outspoken. Much. One of them unnatural daughters of Sappho, if you take my meaning. You’ll want to look elsewhere, whether you’re thinking to marry or otherwise keep company with the lady.”
He winkedagain.
Lily was honest and sensible, and among people suffering a paucity of useful ambitions, this was the thanks she got. Gossip from fools, probably years after she’d offered some buffoon a set-down for leering at her bodice.
Hessian rose, and Worth set the wine bottle on the opposite side of the table.
“Islington, you accurately perceive that I am the veriest bumpkin of an earl. I do so love my acres up in Cumberland.”
“Pretty place, Cumberland, so I’m told. Don’t think I’d care for it.”
The group across the room had fallen silent, as had the several other tables of diners in the room. That was fine. Good, in fact, for what Hessian had to say was not private.
“The benefit of all the ruralizing I’ve done is that I spend many a morning tramping about with my fowling piece, and I feel it only fair to warn you, I am adeadshot.”
“Dead shot,” Worth echoed. “I’ve never seen Grampion miss a target when sober, and his lordship is always sober.”
In fact, Worth hadn’t seen Hessian so much as lift a firearm in the past ten years, much less take aim at a hapless pheasant going about its avian business.
