Page 15 of A Murder in Mayfair
I gazed toward the voice’s direction to find the Dowager Lady Throckmorton descending from her carriage. Much as I wished to avoid a woman who thrived on town gossip and destroying reputations, I couldn’t do so. Good manners required a proper greeting. Putting thought to action, I doffed my top hat. “Lady Throckmorton.”
“Fancy meeting you just as we arrive from the country.” Her smile held the note of a cat who’d been presented with a dish of cream. She was pleased about our fortuitous encounter, unusually so. And that put me on alert.
“My good fortune. I hope you had a pleasant trip.”
“It was tolerable. Train travel can be quite exhausting even in first class.”
Behind her, a young woman descended from the carriage. A relation, going by her strong resemblance to the dowager. They both possessed dark curls with a widow’s peak, brown eyes that slanted at the edges, and patrician noses.
“May I introduce my granddaughter, Lady Scarlet, Throckmorton’s girl. She’s making her debut this season.”
Her glee at seeing me suddenly made sense. She was on the hunt for a husband for her granddaughter. And I was one of the most eligible gentlemen among the nobility. “A pleasure, Lady Scarlet.” I bowed.
“Your Grace,” the young woman curtsied as she blushed. She was quite lovely with her dark ringlets and shy smile. She would do well this season.
“Our arrival in town was a tad delayed due to unforeseen circumstances,” Lady Throckmorton continued. “But we meanto make up for lost time. You should come over for a dish of tea. Are you free Tuesday?”
Her matchmaking tactics were blatantly obvious. I would have to disappoint her as I was unavailable for tea, not to mention marriage. “Afraid not, ma’am. A meeting at the House of Lords.”
“All afternoon?”
“Unfortunately. We’re reviewing our legislation agenda.”
Her lips pinched with disapproval. “I suppose you must attend to your duties.”
“Exactly so.”
“The Walsh ball is next Thursday. I trust you will be attending.”
That event was on my calendar as several members of the House of Lords would be in attendance. As I was seeking votes for a measure I favored, it would be a great opportunity to discuss it with them. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent.” She became all smiles. “My granddaughter will save the first waltz for you.”
“I’d be honored to, ma’am.” It was only one dance. Afterward, I could avoid the damsel easily enough.
Eager to get away, I glanced toward the entrance to Steele House. But before I could put action to thought, a young sprig of fashion sprang down the Throckmortons’ front steps. “Grandmama!”
“Rodney. How are you, my boy?” She greeted him with an honest smile while presenting her cheek for a kiss.
Having done so, Lord Rodney pouted. “Better now that you’re here. It’s been positively dreadful without your presence to brighten our dark world.”
“You are the sweetest boy.” She pinched her grandson’s cheek before turning to me. “You know Steele, of course.”
“Your Grace.” The Throckmorton grandson was everything a young dandy should be. A blue fitted coat that flared out at the waist, matching trousers, and a silk brocade waistcoat patterned in blue flowers. A carefully tied cravat was tied in an intricate knot. A high collared, heavily starched shirt whose points were so sharp he’d surely injure himself if he moved his head too much. Last but not least, hair heavily pomaded to keep his pompadour in place.
“Lord Rodney,” I murmured before turning back to Lady Throckmorton. “I’m afraid I must leave you, ma’am. Duty calls.”
“Yes, of course. Don’t forget about the waltz.”
“I won’t.” Thankfully, Steele house was but a few doors down, far enough that the dowager wouldn’t be visiting. Not that she would. Ladies, whether widowed, married, or single, didn’t call on unmarried men. At least not on their own. If they did, tongues would most surely wag.
My butler must have been on the lookout as he opened the door as soon as I climbed the steps.
“Trying day, Your Grace?”
“Only the last few minutes.” I handed him my hat, cape, and gloves. “Remind me again, Milford. Who is Lord Rodney in the Throckmorton lineage?” I didn’t keep up with such things, but my butler knew every resident in Grosvenor Square and every family tree.
“Lord Throckmorton’s second son.” Throckmorton had inherited the marquisate a decade ago after his father passed on to his glory. A blustery sort, the current marquis spent most of his time at his gentleman’s club playing cards and smoking cigars.
