Page 19 of A Rogue's Downfall
Or Lady Plumtree’s perhaps.
Royston Astor, Lord Brindley, was in a bad mood, having quarreled with his wife again that morning. Andagain over Caroline. There was no one particularly eligible at this party, she had pointed out. They werewasting a whole week, when they could be in Brightonor somewhere else where Caroline could meet someonesuitable to marry.
It had been in vain for him to remind Cynthia that family duty dictated that they put in this appearance atElmdon Hall and that Caroline had met and rejectedtwo quite eligible gentlemen during the past fewmonths. She was three-and-twenty, Cynthia had saidwith that slow distinctness she always used when tryingto make a particularly telling point, and had only justmade her come-out. That was not his fault either, hehad said, grumbling. First Caroline had not wanted acome-out and Papa had not fought against her wishes.Then Grandpapa died, plunging them all into mourning, and then Papa.
Caroline was not in her dotage after all, he had pointed out. Cynthia had given him a speaking glanceas if to say that yes, indeed, she was. To give her herdue, Cynthia’s preoccupation with marrying Carolineoff was motivated more by affection than by the desireto get rid of a superfluous sister-in-law.
Lord Brindley’s neckcloth would never tie neatly when he was in a bad mood. He had noticed it before.There was a tap on his dressing room door and heturned to scowl at his valet as if the man were personally responsible for the uncooperative neckcloth. But hehad merely come to announce that Viscount Lyndonwould be obliged for a few minutes of his time.
Lord Brindley frowned. Lyndon? He had been annoyed, to say the least, to find that that irresponsible ass, Colin, had invited a man like Lyndon to such arespectable gathering. One did not feel that one’swomen were safe with such a libertine in the house.Cynthia he could protect very well himself. But Caroline?She should have been put in a room next to theirs, hehad complained to Cynthia on their arrival. He had atleast insisted that his sister’s maid sleep in her dressingroom at night. One never knew with someone likeLyndon.
“Me?” he said to his valet. “You are sure he said me, Barnes?”
Barnes merely coughed discreetly, and Lord Brindley realized that the viscount was standing behind him, outside the door. What the devil?
“Come inside, Lyndon,” he said ungraciously. “I am getting ready for breakfast. Disgusting misty morning,is it not? I was unable to go riding.”
Viscount Lyndon stepped inside and succeeded only in making Lord Brindley feel dwarfed. His mood wasnot improved.
“I am afraid I have a matter of some delicacy to discuss,” the viscount said.
Lord Brindley met his eyes in the looking glass and stopped fidgeting with his neckcloth, which was doomedto looking lopsided anyway no matter what he did withit. He raised his eyebrows and turned to face the room.
“I feel constrained to ask for the honor of making a marriage offer to your sister,” the viscount said.
The baron snapped his teeth together when he realized that his jaw had been in danger of dropping. “Eh?” he said. “Is this some kind of joke, Lyndon?”
“I wish it were,” the viscount said, his initial unease seeming to disappear somewhat now that he hadlaunched into speech. “I can see that she has not saidanything to you yet.”
“Eh?” Lord Brindley realized that his response was not profound, but really what did one say to such unexpected and strange words?
“I am afraid,” the viscount said, one corner of his mouth lifting in a wry smile, “that I compromised MissAstor last night. Rather badly, I am afraid.”
Lord Brindley’s hands curled into fists at his sides. To do him justice, he did not at the moment think ofthe vast difference in size and physique between theother man and himself.
“I mistook her room for, er, someone else’s,” the viscount explained. “Her virtue is intact,” he added hastily, “but not, I am afraid, her honor. I beg leave to set mattersright by offering her the protection of my name.”
“Your name?"the baron said, injecting a world of irony into the words and using some of his wife’s slowdistinctness.
“I beg your pardon,” the viscount said stiffly. “Is my name sullied and I know nothing of it? I have the nameand the position and the means with which to providefor Miss Astor for the rest of her life.”
“I would rather see her thrown into a lions’ den,”Lord Brindley said. “You did not take her virtue, you said?”
“No,” the viscount said. “She awoke in time to fight me off, and her maid arrived to champion her cause.”
Caroline and Lyndon? Lyndon touching Caroline?And thinking to marry her? It was perhaps a good thingthat none of Lord Brindley’s gloves were in sight. Perhaps he would have slapped one in the viscount’s faceand been precipitated into a dreadfully scandalous situation with which to celebrate his great-aunt’s birthday.
“I will make my offer this morning,” the viscount said. “With your permission, Brindley. I cannot thinkyou mean what you just said about lions.”
“What youwilldo this morning,” Lord Brindley said, his hands opening and closing at his sides, “is packyour belongings, order your carriage around, and takeyourself off with whatever plausible excuse for leavingyou can contrive in the meanwhile. I will give you onehour, Lyndon, before coming after you with a whip. Itrust I make myself understood?”
The viscount pursed his lips. But before either man could say another word, there was a second tap on thedoor and it opened to reveal a pale Caroline. Sheglanced at Viscount Lyndon, blanched still further, andstepped inside, closing the door behind her.
“Barnes said you were in here, Royston,” she said, looking directly at him and ignoring the viscount justas if he were not even there, “and not to be disturbed.But I could not wait. There is going to be a duel, isthere not? It will not do. For one thing the whole matterwill be made dreadfully public, and for another, you areexpert with neither a sword nor a pistol. He is, so Ihave heard. I will not have you killed for my sake.”
“Caroline—” her brother began, but she held up afirm staying hand.
“It must not happen, Royston,” she said, lifting her chin and looking at him with a martial gleam in her eyes, “or I shall reveal the full truth to everyone.” There was a flush of color in her cheeks suddenly.
