“How dare you!” Mr. Kenworthy bellowed, stomping closer to point a finger directly into Edward’s chest.
Edward grabbed the man’s wrist and pushed it aside, putting a tad more force than was likely necessary behind the action.
Mr. Kenworthy glared at him as he drew himself up in rage. He had been so jovial, if arrogant, just moments before that the sudden transformation felt ridiculous, as if he had as much pent-up aggression as Edward did.
“Assaulting a peer. I could have you hanged for that,” Edward said with a dangerous smile.
Fear crossed the man’s expression before being drowned by complete fury. His arm cocked back, but Edward was ready for the blow.
He ducked the flying fist and planted one of his own squarely on the man’s jaw. Mr. Kenworthy stumbled backward three or four steps, grasping the side of his face.
“You’re mad!” He grabbed his horse’s saddle yet again. “Remove yourself from my property before I call the constable.”
“Gladly.” Edward bowed with a sardonic smile.
Mr. Kenworthy pulled himself onto his horse, and with one last murderous look, spurred the animal into a gallop.
Silence met his departure. Edward looked around to see Barton watching him with narrowed eyes.
“Well.” Edward brushed his slightly painful hand against his pant leg. “How soon can your family leave? Oh, fiend seize it, is your mother even in a state to travel?”
Barton opened his mouth, then shut it firmly. He offered a crisp nod. “She is not well, but the travel should not further the illness. And though she has never said as much, I am certain a change in housing conditions could only help her. Drayton Hall is only a day’s journey, yes?”
Edward’s breathing still came heavily as he glanced over his friend’s shoulder at his family’s home. “Yes. Less with my horses, I should think.”
Barton nodded again. “I shall speak to my mother, then. I believe we could be ready in only a handful of hours. The maid of all work can gather anything we’ve forgotten and send it along.”
Edward inclined his head. “That would be ideal. I will handle any of the financial components, but I believe the sooner we remove your family, the better.” He glanced in the direction Mr. Kenworthy had retreated from. “I have not endeared you to Mr. Kenworthy.”
“No, you have not.”
Edward shot a dry look at his valet. He had missed the man’s occasional lack of acknowledgment for their differing social statuses. “Go, then. Inform me if you need any assistance.”
Barton bowed to him. He turned to leave but hesitated.
“Thank you, my lord. It is more than I deserve.”
Edward waved him off. “There you are wrong. It is only a fraction of what you deserve for putting up with me. It is nothing. Though, I do wonder... does this make me a better man?” He had not realized until that moment how he wished for someone to tell him he was doing a good job in his efforts. Barton would be best—particularly as he’d issued the challenge to become a better man, even if he did not know it.
“The very best of men, my lord,” Barton said in all seriousness, then with a nod, entered his mother’s house.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Amelia’s head ached as Maryput the final touches on her hair. The pins seemed more prominent than usual. And the room a bit warmer. It was altogether uncomfortable.
“There you are, my lady,” Mary said as she stepped back, smiling at Amelia’s reflection in the mirror. “Would you like to wear the blue or yellow this evening?”
“The blue, I think.” Amelia stood, and Mary helped her into the dress of deep-blue silk, with beautiful embroidery on the bodice and sleeves.
“You look every inch the countess.” Mary stepped back as she finished. “It is a beautiful gown.”
“Thank you,” Amelia said, “I fear I will need every bit of confidence it can lend me this evening.” She took a deep breath. “Mary, why am I so nervous to see my own family?”
“I would wager it’s because of your experiences last time. But a dinner party must certainly be more formal than an afternoon tea. There cannot be much time for the gossiping and conniving of other ladies.”
“I am hopeful you are correct, but in my experience with Edith, there is always time for gossiping and conniving.” Amelia grimaced, her headache flaring. Perhaps it was Amelia’s feelings of foreboding that made her head hurt so. Somehow, the home she now lived in felt far less restrictive than the home she was to visit that evening.
A sly grin spread across Mary’s face. “If it improves your feelings, my lady, I can tell you that your sister’s maid let slip when we were last there that her mistress has taken to wearing paints recently to hide several freckles she acquired on a ride last week.”
