He didn’t miss drinking, except for the social aspect of it. It didn’t call to him the way the cards did. But the two things had always gonehand in hand when he was still living recklessly, and if he permitted himself a glass or two, it would only be a matter of time before he ventured to play.
He couldn’t diminish his good judgment that way.
He did, however, accept one of Mr. Danby’s Havana cigars. “An excellent batch,” the man said as he offered Lyman the matchbox. “Worthy of a celebration.” He winked toward his son, but had moved on to tend to the next guest before Lyman could ask what he’d meant.
There must have been a question in his eyes, for Peter answered it. “We’re meant to announce my engagement to Miss Greenwood later, once all the guests arrive.”
“Oh.” Lyman tried not to let his surprise show. He hadn’t realized that there was any attachment between them. Though he’d noticed Miss Greenwood often seemed to be at Peter’s side, she’d never looked particularly enthusiastic about her position. He’d assumed there was only some family obligation linking them, the way the children of intimate friends were often pressed into the same circles. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Peter took a little puff of his cigar through thin lips. Without the women around, he’d lost some of his bluster, appearing more sheepish than arrogant. Or perhaps that was simply the aftereffect of Lyman having undermined him earlier. In any event, he kept his gaze downcast as he added, “I wouldn’t mind a spot of advice, actually. If you have a moment.”
“Of course.”
Peter cast a nervous glance around the room before he made his confession in a low whisper. “I’m not sure I’m ready to marry yet. Everything happened so fast that I hardly had time to think it over.”
Lyman immediately regretted having offered his ear. He was the last person who should give Peter advice on something like this.But even if the young man could be a bit much at times, he was still Della’s brother.
“I’m probably not the best one to advise you,” he warned. Della must not have told her brother how Lyman had ruined his own marriage, or Peter wouldn’t have come to him with this. “Perhaps your parents might be a better choice?”
“Hmm.” Peter gave a humorless smile. “They just said they were sure it would all turn out well.”
“What made you decide to propose to Miss Greenwood?” Lyman tried. Maybe if he reminded Peter what he loved about the young lady, it would help to restore his confidence. Remind him of what they had in common, or why he wanted to—
“My family pressured me into it.”
A sinking feeling congealed in Lyman’s gut, and he didn’t think his supper was to blame. Peter only looked to be twenty-one or twenty-two, at a guess. About the same age Lyman had been when he’d married Ellen. But the Danbys didn’t have a title to pass on. Why were his parents in such a hurry to shackle the boy into an arrangement if there was no affection between the couple? Maybe passing on the family name and fortune was enough incentive, even without a title.
“I was an only son as well,” Lyman confided. “My father took ill when I was about your age and wanted me to marry quickly so he could see his line carried on before he passed.”
“Were you happy with the woman your family chose for you?”
Here we come to it.Peter looked at him so earnestly, it reminded Lyman of Della. Their eyes were the same: a warm brown framed by thick lashes. They both trusted him without a second thought, though he’d never done anything to deserve it.
He couldn’t lie, even where manners demanded it.
“No,” Lyman admitted. “We were ill-matched, and we hurt eachother often, though neither of us meant to.” Since he was being honest tonight, he felt compelled to add, “The fault was mine.”
“I expect it will be my fault too, if things go poorly.” Peter took a large swallow of his brandy, staring darkly into the glass. “But what am I supposed to do, break my word? I can’t say I’ve changed my mindnow.”
What was he supposed to tell the boy? It was true—he was already trapped.
“Why don’t you plan a long engagement? Give yourselves some time to get to know one another. If you’re ill-suited, perhaps she’ll release you.”
Peter took another drink, draining his glass. “Impossible. They want us married by special license.”
Another similarity between them, though Lyman had no reason to think Peter’s parents were trying to outrace death. Like as not, they only wanted to be fashionable. But whatever their reasons, it didn’t lessen the pressure they were putting on their son.
Everyone wanted to see their children settled, their legacy secure, but they never stopped to think about the harm they might do. Peter and Miss Greenwood were the ones who would have to live with the consequences if they were wrong. He couldn’t let the error pass while he might do something to stop it.
“Tell your families you need more time,” he suggested. “You’re the one who’ll be bound to Miss Greenwood for the rest of your life. They have no business pushing you into something you might regret.”
It might not be his place, but if he could save Della’s brother from a life of misery, it was the right thing to do.
***
“What on earth did you say to my brother?” Della hissed, the minute she could contrive to get Lord Ashton alone in a darkenedcorner of the room. The men had rejoined the ladies a half hour ago. Peter had wasted no time informing his sisters that their deal was off before he went to impart this news to Miss Greenwood’s father, who looked as though he was only holding on to his composure due to the presence of so many other people.
“Pardon?” Ashton had the nerve to blink at her in confusion, as if he had no idea what she meant.
