Rowena frowned for a moment, then smoothed her forehead out. Chances of her seeing Duke Westmond again were slim, and especially if she was right and his appearance at the ball had been nothing but a test. She took her friend’s hand and they shook.
“I suppose.”
The two girls carried on with their walk, turning toward St. James’s Park. Betsy chatted away happily about her impending departure. Beside her, Lady Rowena Burton could not help but wonder if she was not indeed tempting fate with the promise she had just made.
Chapter 13
Christopher sat at the table, his hands sweaty. Beside him, his brother had his legs propped up on the chair next to him, a book in hand. Christopher nudged him in the elbow with some force.
“Gadzooks. What is it, Topher?”
“We are not in our drawing room.” He pointed at the feet on the lavishly upholstered table. “What if the Earl sees?”
Henry rolled his eyes at his brother. “Yes, Mother. I shall remove my feet. Here. Are you satisfied?”
He sat up straight, his eyes wide and his head tilted slightly in a challenge.
“Thank you. Now, once the Earl arrives back here–”
“I shall resume my very best behavior, not to worry, Topher. In any case, it seems to be going well thus far.”
Henry was of course, correct. They had met with Lord Hazelshire for dinner at White’s, the Earl’s preferred Gentleman’s Club. He’d shown himself impressed with Henry and Christopher’s knowledge of the vineyard operations and the three had swiftly agreed to make their arrangement an official and permanent one.
The brothers would accompany Lord Hazelshire to Shropshire, to survey the vineyard which had given him so much trouble so far. The Earl was eager to formalize their arrangement, as he’d gone in search for his barrister who had a panache for whist and was bound to be found at the table in the back.
While Christopher had used the opportunity to plan the next goal in his plan to get closer to Lady Rowena, a dinner invitation to the Earl’s home, Henry had taken to acting as though they were in their own drawing room.
Before Henry could give in to the temptation of his novel once more, Lord Hazelshire returned, without the barrister, but with a bottle of wine in hand.
Christopher grinned when he recognized the label of their own Newmont vineyard.
“I have had no luck in pulling old Brundwick away from the card table. However, I have found us something we can celebrate with.” He held up the bottle, the cork already popped, and poured the wine into the glasses already on the table.
“I hope you did not pay for that, Lord Hazelshire. If we are to go into business together, you shall have all the wine you desire,” Henry said with a smile.
“Ever the better then, Mister Newmont, ever the better. Now, a toast.” He lifted his glass, prompting both Henry and Christopher to rise at once, their glasses held high as well.
Lord Hazelshire cleared his throat. “Let us raise our glasses to our joint future venture. May it bring us all prosperity, wealth, and a relief from all the bother that came along with it.”
“Hear, hear!” they replied in unison and they took a drink of tine.
“Splendid. I must say, I was fond of Summerwind Vines before I knew that it could lead to me relief from the blasted burdens of the vineyard.”
They resumed their seats.
“Lord Hazelshire, if I may ask. You appear not to be fond of the vineyard at all. Why did you purchase it if it was in such a terrible state?” Henry asked the question while still holding the wine, taking a sip with his eyes closed as he waited for an answer.
The Earl leaned back and shook his head.
“It was a mistake if ever I made one. You see, last year I intended to make a match for my daughter, Rowena, upon her marriage to Lord Mortimer.”
Christopher found himself alarmed at this revelation.
“Mortimer? I thought it was the Duke of Thornmouth she was to be wed to.”
“She was. Mortimer, as it turned out, was a regrettable miscalculation on my part. He appeared a good match, albeit a little unmotivated. You see, Mortimer, while rich, had no real passion in life. He mentioned during one of our meetings that he’d always had a desire to make his own wine but had not found a suitable vineyard to buy. The fool that I am set out and bought him one I thought was of good quality. Alas, before I could present it to him, the fool had run of with some maid to Gretna Green, leaving my poor Rowena and our entire family shamed.”
Christopher’s eyes widened. Suddenly, understanding washed over him. After such an occurrence, it was understandable that Lady Rowena was not willing to let her family down once more. It was why she was so adamant that the match with the Duke was a good one. Even Christopher had to admit, he’d appeared very attached to Lady Rowena the entire evening. Much more so that this fool, Mortimer.
