Page 10 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
Flustered, Eudora took her seat, keeping her eyes on the plate before her. A strange feeling had blossomed in her stomach, one which was most unfamiliar. Perhaps, she reasoned, it was acute shock from having someone profess that they listened to her ideas after a lifetime of being ignored.
It had nothing to do with Lord Delaney’s solid build or the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. Nothing at all…
Supper was an extravagant affair, which began with white soup. Eudora, who was seated near Lord Albermay, tried to ignore the viscount as he loudly slurped each spoonful of therich, creamy broth with no thought to those who had to listen to him. Unfortunately, the viscount’s son, Mr Wellesley, was seated across from Eudora, making obvious eyes at the buxom maid bringing out the bread rolls. The combination of father and son’s poor manners was enough to turn anyone’s stomach, but Eudora persevered with her soup.
Mercifully, conversation began in earnest during the second course - coinciding, Eudora noted, with everyone’s second glass of wine. As they tucked into succulent pheasant la Montmorenci, Captain Ledger regaled them all with tales from New York, his last port of call.
Lady Albermay hung on his every word, her eyes misty. Eudora supposed she was homesick, though how anyone could pine for a city that sounded so large and lawless was beyond her comprehension. She much preferred the peace of Plumpton, even if it could be a tad dull at times.
“I hear you’re in the textile trade, lad,” Lord Albermay called to Mr Lowell as the third course was served, rudely cutting across Captain Ledger.
Eudora glanced down at Ivo’s business associate, who had not yet spoken a word. Perhaps his silence indicated that he was ill at ease with his top-lofty dinner companions, she reasoned, for he did look like the talkative sort. His clothes were elegant but not ostentatious, and his face, when examined closely, was rather handsome.
Out of the corner of her eye, Eudora caught Lord Delaney observing her observing Mr Lowell. He did not look at all pleased, which irritated her. He had no claim over her, no matter how much her mama and sisters might like him to.
“Yes, my lord,” Mr Lowell replied modestly, “We have several mills dotted around the West Counties, some in Manchester too.”
“Cotton?” Lord Albermay grunted, to which Mr Lowell nodded. “I was invested in silk some years ago. We had a factory in Yeovil but stopped being profitable with the war.”
“Luckily, it burned to the ground before you lost too much on it, eh, father?” Mr Arthur Wellesley, the viscount’s son, called mischievously across to his father, “Only one life lost and the insurance coin cushioned the pain.”
“Fate can be cruel, but she can sometimes be kind,” Lord Amberly agreed, his thin lips curled into a sneering smile.
An expression of distaste crossed Mr Lowell’s handsome face; Eudora supposed he did not think his workers’ lives as disposable as the viscount did.
The exchange between the pair was interrupted as Mary spotted the nursery maid hovering by the door. Despite Mrs Mifford recommending that the couple leave Baby George at home in Northcott Manor for the evening, the duke and duchess had arrived with their son and his attending staff in tow.
“Will he not settle?” Mary called to the girl, who blushed as she nodded.
“I expect he needs his mama,” she sighed, as she slipped away from the table.
“Perhaps I should cast an eye on him too,” Northcott added as he anxiously rose to follow his wife, “Er, do carry on.”
“New parents,” Mrs Mifford commented affectionately as the pair stole out the door, “I was like that with my first; by the time the fourth arrived, I would have happily handed her over to a traveling fair.”
“Thank you, mama,” Eudora muttered, as she speared a stalk of asparagus with her fork.
“Once the table had returned their attention to their dinner, Emily queried, “Do your mills use child labour, Mr Lowell? I have read some horrible stories about what goes on in cotton mills.”
Mr Lowell was not given a chance to answer, for Lord Albermay took it upon himself to offer his opinion on the merits of child labour.
“Nothing wrong with putting a child to work,” he groused, with a scowl Emily’s way, “My own factory was well run by parish apprentices; I gave them work, food, a roof over their head - and they were grateful for it.”
Eudora longed to have the courage to ask what Lord Albermay had done for those same children after the factory had burned to the ground, leaving one dead, but she did not want to upset Jane’s guest.
“Come talk with me later, lad,” the viscount growled to Mr Lowell, ending the subject of industry, “I’ve a mind to invest in textiles again and I’ve buckets of coin left over from the dowry I received when I leg shackled myself to that Yankee.”
He nodded toward Lady Albermay, who kept her attention focused on her plate and acted as though he had not spoken at all. Captain Ledger, however, was unable to ignore such a blatant display of bad manners.
“Apologise, my lord,” he said, his blue eyes flinty, “You do your wife a great disservice by speaking of her in such a manner.”
“What manner?” the viscount retorted, eying the captain with dislike, “Every man has a station in life, sir; you seem to have forgotten yours if you think that you have a right to comment on how I - your better - speak of my wife.”
“A man’s station does not matter when calling out ungallant behaviour,” Captain Ledger replied, his manner mild. He was not at all intimidated by the viscount; rather, he seemed to view him with contempt.
“The captain is correct, Papa,” Mr Wellesley called, adding his voice to the fray, “Even if one marries for money, mannersdictate that you should pretend you did not - or at least try to pretend, for appearance’s sake.”
The viscount turned so puce that for a moment, Eudora wondered if he would take some sort of fit. His colour soon faded, and he let out a sigh of displeasure, casting a rheumy eye around the table at each guest.
