Page 46 of Bargaining for the Barrister
Louisa grinned. “And what do you call him in return?”
“None of them are creative enough to name me,” Mr. Harwood said. “So I had to do the honors and name myself.”
“Oh? And what is it you call yourself?”
“Vizard.”
She almost laughed, as the word was terribly odd, but she could not be sure he was not serious. “I thought I was well-read, but I am not sure I know the meaning of the word. Did you make it up?”
“Not at all. Believe it or not, I am more intelligent than I look.” Mr. Harwood folded his arms across his broad chest and said lightly, “It means mask, but do not try to understand it, for even the word is a mask for who I really am. I will answer to Genius, though, if you cannot remember Vizard.”
Miss Fielding gave Louisa an exasperated look. “Don’t bother trying to remember it. If he’s trying to hide his incorrigible nature, no mask in the world would suffice. Teasing Tom or Terrible Tom is a far better fit, but none of us want to employ his level of immaturity.”
Mr. Harwood puffed out his chest. “What can I say? I am one of a kind.”
Louisa laughed. Their playful banter put her right at ease with them. “When you say none of you, do you mean you and Miss Manning?”
Miss Fielding shook her head. “I mean those of us who reside in the neighborhood.”
Mr. Harwood pointed at the only unidentified gentleman in the room. “That is Mr. Romantic speaking to our Angel. Mother Hen, or should I say Mr. Mother Hen, is the one keeping Lady Kellen’s guests in check, and over there”—Lord Harwood motioned to Paul—“is Fisher.”
“What odd names.” Especially Fisher. Louisa was certain it was an ill-fitting name for a man who hated water. However, she was no longer suspicious of Mr. Harwood and found she liked him immensely. “You will have to tell me sometime what the names all mean.”
Lady Kellen entered the room, dressed in a delicate primrose gown, and stole their attention. “Welcome, everyone. Dinner is finally ready. Shall we move into the dining room?”
Mr. Harwood smiled at Louisa. “I will indeed tell you everything you ask, but you’ll have to excuse me for now, as I am to escort Lady Kellen to dinner.” He bent into an elaborate bow and nearly swept Lady Kellen off her feet with the swiftness of his movements.
Miss Fielding shook her head and grimaced. “Mr. Harwood is a good man, but I must warn you, he hasn’t a serious bone in his body. This is the first I’ve ever heard the name Vizard. Last time, he told us to call him Prince Charming.”
Louisa bit her lip so as to prevent herself again from laughing.
Lord Reynolds came and escorted her to the dining room, leaving Mr. Turner and Mr. Davies to glare at their backs. She wasn’t sure how long she could avoid them. Thankfully, at dinner Louisa was seated safely between the stranger the Rebels had dubbed Mr. Romantic and Mr. Harwood, with Paul across from her. She met his gaze for the first time all evening, but he quickly looked away, engaging the soft-spoken Miss Manning in conservation.
Had she been wrong about the conclusions she’d drawn? Lady Kellen was right to predict that she would question everything. But Mr. Harwood distracted her from worrying for too long with his ready conversation.
“I know I am a sufficient dinner companion for you, but in case I suddenly fall asleep or something worse, like fall ill, you might need an introduction to your other seatmate. That devilishly handsome man next to you is Mr. Jackson.”
Louisa looked at Mr. Jackson, who she imagined was often described as an Adonis. Geraldine would likely not leave this man alone.
“Mr. Jackson,” Mr. Harwood continued. “This is Miss Cox.”
“Good evening, Miss Cox.” He pushed his nearly black curls from off his forehead and gave her a polite nod. “I have been anxious to make your acquaintance.”
“Oh?”
Mr. Jackson’s smile was the opposite of Mr. Harwood’s—full of sincerity—though both were kind. “We are good friends with Mr. Sheldon. You are as lovely as he says.”
She flicked her gaze to Paul. Had he really told them about her? He seemed to sense her gaze on him, because he looked up with a question in his hazel eyes. She stared at him thoughtfully for a moment before turning back to Mr. Jackson.
“What else did he say about me?”
She was sure Paul had heard her question, but she did not mind. All she really cared about right now was what Mr. Jackson had to tell her.
Mr. Harwood answered for his friend. “He said he fears for his health since he can hardly eat with you sitting across from him.”
She bit her lip and dared sneak a glance to see how Paul had reacted. He put a large forkful of fish into his mouth and pointed to his protruding cheeks to make his point. Louisa almost snorted, barely catching herself before making a fool of herself in proper company.
The rest of dinner passed similarly, with Paul avoiding her, Mr. Harwood making her laugh, and the occasional thought-provoking question from Mr. Jackson. It would have been a pleasant evening indeed, except for her burning desire to know what Paul was thinking. Never had she been so aware of a man’s every movement. She would give just about everything to know how he felt about her.
