“Mr. Harlow is not to blame, Julian,” she’d replied. “He did nothing wrong.”
It was telling, Aldous mused, as his thoughts returned to the present, how Louisa had risen to Maxwell Harlow’s defense thatnight, and more than once. That she was attracted to the man was, of course, no revelation. Aldous had been aware of it from the day they’d first met in the stables, but he’d never considered it to be anything more than a one-sided, hopeless infatuation. Certainly, Harlow had never shown any sign of reciprocation. The man was engaged to be married, for God’s sake, and to a viscount’s daughter at that. Though it appeared, according to what Louisa overheard, that the relationship was some way from idyllic.
But Aldous would sacrifice a limb before allowing his daughter to take the full brunt of whatever scandal emerged from this mess. Harlow would have to assume some responsibility for what had occurred. “If not all,” Aldous mumbled and took a sip of whiskey, refusing to let his mind examine what the blasted fellowshouldhave done in order avoid the entire debacle. It was too bloody late for that. The man had apparently promised he’d call, though for exactly what purpose remained to be seen. Given the hour, he probably wouldn’t show his face till the morning.
The thought had no sooner slid through Aldous’ mind than a knock came to the parlor door, and it opened. “Excuse me, Captain,” a familiar voice said, “you have a caller.”
Aldous twisted in his seat, surprised to see Barnes still awake. “Is it Mr. Harlow?”
“It is, Captain. He said he can come back in the morning if you prefer.”
“No, send him in, Barnes.” Aldous set his glass down and rose to his feet. “And then take yourself off to bed.”
“Very well.” The butler gave him what appeared to be a sympathetic smile. “Goodnight, sir.”
Aldous responded with a nod. No doubt the events of the evening had already been dissected and examined below stairs.Servants’ gossip, though discouraged, was as perennial as the tides and equally as impossible to control.
Maxwell Harlow strode into the room moments later, looking more than a little disheveled. “Captain Northcott.” He inclined his head, the ends of his hair tipped with silver droplets of rain. “I suspected you’d still be up. I appreciate you seeing me at this late hour.”
“My daughter told me you intended to call,” Aldous replied, determined to keep a rein on his simmering disappointment, let alone his anger. He genuinely liked this man. Trusted him. Even admired him. Now he found himself questioning the validity of his judgment and couldn’t resist a touch of intimidation. “You should know I’ve spent the last two hours trying to decide whether or not to put a bullet in your brain when you finally made your appearance.”
Harlow didn’t flinch. “And have you arrived at a decision, Captain?”
“Not yet,” he replied, and lifted a decanter from its tray. “Whiskey? It’s Irish, not Scottish.”
“Thank you, aye,” Harlow replied. “Especially if it’s to be my last.”
Aldous gave him a scathing look. “Well, now.” He handed him the drink and gestured for him to sit. “That will depend on what you have to say.”
Harlow sank into a nearby armchair. “How is Miss Northcott?”
Aldous gave a short, bitter laugh, took his seat, and met Harlow’s gaze. “You may well ask,” he replied. “She is frightened, and it breaks my heart to see it. And, for some reason, she is convinced this whole sorry mess is entirely her fault and will hear no argument to the contrary. That she behaved foolishly is irrefutable, but I have to lay the blame primarily at your feet, Harlow. You should have left the moment you realized mydaughter was in the room. This damned incident has brought shame on the family and will undoubtedly affect her future.”
“I’m fully aware of that, Captain, and despite Miss Northcott’s protestations, I take full responsibility for what has occurred.” Harlow took a mouthful of whiskey and then frowned into his glass. “It is up to me, therefore, to make things right.”
Aldous raised a brow. “And just how do you plan to do that?”
The man lifted his gaze again. “By marrying your daughter, sir. With your permission, of course.”
Aldous’ glass paused on the way to his mouth. “Marriage?” He shook his head. “Marrying my daughter would mean calling off your engagement to Miss Chessington.”
“Which has already been done, Captain.”
Aldous gasped. “Good lord! The grass doesn’t grow under your bloody feet, does it? You may be forgiven for being ruthless in your business affairs, but to be similarly affected in matters of the heart leaves me, frankly, dumbfounded. Are you telling me Miss Chessington must now bear the brunt of your mismanagement of this incident?”
Harlow’s subsequent smile held no humor. “Miss Chessington is the one who broke our engagement, sir.”
“Is that so? Odd, since she apparently told my daughter, in no uncertain terms, that she had no intention of doing such a thing.”
“Nevertheless, our engagement is over.”
“I see.” Aldous sat back, a flush of fresh anger rising up his neck. “Then I must ask you this, sir. Had Miss Chessington not cast you aside, would you be here now offering to save my daughter from a scandal? One that could easily have been avoided had you applied some good sense, I might add. Or would you merely have left her to face the music? Right now, it appears to be the latter, in which case your audacity is quite remarkable, as is your ability to present yourself falsely.”
Harlow opened his mouth as if to speak, and then apparently changed his mind. Instead, he downed his drink in one gulp and stared, for a moment, into his empty glass. “Your assessment of my conduct and my character is understandable, Captain, given what you’ve been told,” he said at last, meeting Aldous’ gaze once more. “Nevertheless, my offer of marriage to Miss Northcott remains, and whether you believe it or not, is made with the best of intentions.”
Aldous studied him. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Harlow raised both brows. “Captain?”
