Page 2 of The Secret Identity of the Lord's Aide
“You think you can step aside from a season of dancing quadrilles. Of meeting debutantes who are appropriate to extend our line, Nathaniel. But it’s simply not true. Which is why I’ve arranged a dinner with Lady Theresa Chesterson, a perfectly lovely girl with a stellar reputation. Her father is, of course, the nobleman Lord Chesterson …”
Nathaniel’s mother continued to prattle on, wielding her hand about the space around her while Nathaniel’s thoughts turned elsewhere. This certainly wasn’t the first time that his mother had set him up with a debutante with a crystal clear reputation. Always, they were apt to converse about the most meaningless things—topics that made Nathaniel’s eyes glaze over and his hands twitch. “Is this really the best of London?” he’d frequently asked his mother, each time the women took their leave. “The very best we can do?”
Of course, Lord Linfield now faced another season of this drivel—of attending balls, of being introduced to bright-eyed ladies, bowing his head cordially, before shuffling back home as quick as his feet could take him. How small-minded it all felt! How foolish!
“Dinner will be at seven-thirty,” his mother said, her words blaring through his chaotic thoughts. “I expect you to be on your best behaviour.”
Nathaniel spun back towards her, giving her that killer, handsome smile—the one, he knew, had melted the hearts of half a dozen women on London’s east side. “Oh, Mother. When am I not?” he asked.
At seven-thirty, Nathaniel slipped his suit coat over his burly shoulders and sauntered down the sweeping staircase to enter the foyer. His mother had pulled out all the stops for the entryway decor, assumedly for their guest. A mighty green plant—its leaves the size of plates—stretched to the ceiling in the corner. The antique mirror along the wall, said to be at least a hundred years old, reflected Nathaniel’s stellar good looks, his well-cut suit that highlighted the flat of his stomach and the curve of his biceps. He paused, his smile faltering in the mirror.
Was his entire life worth tied up in whoever he “matched” with? Wasn’t that disgusting? For a moment, he thought back to his father—a renowned leader within the Tories. As a child, years before his father’s death, Nathaniel had stood on the sidelines at his father’s speeches, watching as the man ripped his fist through the air, declaring a kind of reality that the people, the people who followed him, deserved.
His father had been a passionate, zealous man—a man with fine opinions and a way about him that made you want to lean closer, ask him for more. Nathaniel had never assumed himself to be much like his father, as he’d always been a bit quieter, a bit less social. He’d always been the first to race from the country home and fall into the wooded trails, retreating to the natural world. “What will become of him?” his father had once enquired of his mother. “I don’t suppose he’s a born political orator …”
Nathaniel shook the thoughts from his brain, turning his eyes towards the door. Someone knocked, causing the maid, Millie, to rush in from the kitchen, her hat nearly toppling from her head. She opened the door to uncover a rather pretty, delicate-looking woman, in her mid-20s, perhaps, wearing a light blue dress that swept to the floor. Beside her was an older woman, someone who seemed to be a sister or cousin, as their looks were similar but more rugged.
On cue, Nathaniel’s mother appeared in the two-storey entryway, just below the steps. “Good evening,” Lady Eloise said, strutting forward to greet the two women. “Lady Theresa, it’s marvellous to have you in our home. And I trust you’re Lady Sarah.” She reached out to kiss both women on the cheek.
She was always the most brilliant host, Nathaniel thought. Almost to an annoying degree.
Lady Theresa curtseyed before Nathaniel’s mother, before taking her hand. Lady Sarah beamed at both of them, before turning her dark eyes towards Nathaniel, upon the steps. Millie sneaked the door closed behind them, making a mighty “crack” sound. Nathaniel remained at a distance, watching the pomp and circumstance. He felt incredulous that all of this could possibly be for him. For his “benefit.”
Why couldn’t he just be left alone?
“Darling, I have someone to introduce to you!” his mother called from below, her eyes burning with promise.
Nathaniel felt guided by some unseen force. He draped his fingers over the railing and walked the rest of the way to the marble floor, feeling the heaviness of his feet as he marched toward the pretty girl. When he reached her, Lady Theresa outstretched her hand, and he knelt to kiss it.
“May I present to you Lady Theresa,” his mother said. “And of course, her cousin, the Lady Sarah.”
Nathaniel drew back to his full height, nearly a foot taller than Lady Theresa. He cleared his throat and then boomed, “Charmed, Lady Theresa. Lady Sarah. I am Lord Linfield. I trust you arrived comfortably?”
“Absolutely,” Lady Theresa said. “My carriage hand has just dropped me at the door. I trust that he can water and feed the horses as we dine?”
“That isn’t a problem whatsoever, darling,” Nathaniel’s mother said. She swept her hand to Lady Theresa’s lower back, gesturing towards the dining room. “Now, shall we sit? I know my dear Nathaniel is incredibly famished, as he spent the majority of the morning out in the woods. Didn’t you, darling?”
Nathaniel felt his throat constrict. Could it really be a fact of life that he was meant to remain at this dinner table alongside this young woman, asking dismal questions and waiting for the evening to end? He marched just behind Lady Sarah and Lady Theresa, conscious of a floral smell sweeping out from Lady Theresa’s curls. He imagined her alone at home, putting herself together. Thinking about the kind of life she might have with Lord Linfield, if she was given the chance to match.
Once at the dinner table, the talk continued to toil. His mother, to her credit, was bouncy and active, asking questions of Lady Theresa to allow Nathaniel to get to know her.
“You must have heard of my dear late husband,” Lady Eloise said, turning her fork through a small mound of potatoes. “Nathaniel’s father. He was one of the leaders of the Tories, you know. Quite a prosperous man.”
Lady Theresa blinked wide, deer-like eyes towards Nathaniel. She’d hardly eaten a single morsel on her plate, perhaps because she was anxious, or just stupid, Nathaniel thought. His nostrils flared.
“My father did say something about him,” Lady Theresa said. Her voice was strangely high-pitched, irritating, like a mosquito buzzing in Nathaniel’s ear.
His mother laughed, a strange, bell-like tinkling laugh. “I’m sure it’s none of your concern, hearing anything about politics. Here, darling, why don’t you have another roll? You’re nothing but skin and bone, aren’t you?”
Beside his mother and Lady Theresa, Lady Sarah turned sombre eyes towards her own half-munched roll. Her cheeks sagged slightly. It was clear she was married, another bored housewife watching over her younger, single cousin. Always, during these meetings, Lord Linfield strained, wondering just what someone like Lady Theresa might say if they were ever alone.
He couldn’t imagine her coming up with a single sentence that would captivate him. Couldn’t imagine that she would have a single inkling of anything regarding his father’s political stances, or the ways in which he was attempting to shift the world around him.
God, what on earth was he doing?
Nathaniel’s hands formed to fists. He smashed them against his thigh, forcing himself to speak. The noise didn’t carry, but his mother recognised a shift in Nathaniel. She spun her sharp-nosed face towards him, arching her brow.
“Nathaniel. Is there something you wish to say?” she asked.
