“Viscount Kilpatrick?” Liliah asked when he didn’t answer quickly enough.
He waited a moment, hoping some sordid secret would reveal itself from his memory, but there was still nothing. “I can’t think of anything that would strike him from the list,” he remarked, not mentioning he actually had several good qualities to recommend him. In fact, they had spent time at Eton together, and he considered the gentleman a friend.
At least he had.
He was seriously questioning his friendships at the moment; he cast a wary glance at Lucas, who was grinning just over his teacup.
If there were no ladies present, Heathcliff would have made a few choice remarks to his friend and then offered to wipe the smirk off his face with a roundhouse punch. But he had to tamp down his rather heathen inclinations and lifted his teacup again.
It was almost empty, and he asked Lady Liliah, who had poured before, to refill it.
She willingly refreshed his cup, and then continued with the same conversational topic. “That is good to know. Now, finally the baron.” She gestured widely, as if presenting a grand topic, not one that was tedious at best.
“Disregard him,” Heathcliff took a sip of tea.
“Very well, why?” Liliah asked.
“Yes, why?” Lucas leaned forward, clearly enjoying himself in the middle of Heathcliff’s struggle.
Truth be told, he didn’t have a ready answer, so he simply shrugged and used the most common and widely acceptable answer. “He’s a fortune hunter.”
“Truly?” Lady Liliah tipped down her chin. “I’d think he’d find better luck at such an endeavor in London.”
“Indeed,” Lucas chimed in, earning a glare from Heathcliff.
“He isn’t one for Town, and since he doesn’t have the connections to gain him access to the parties where he may have the most luck, he chooses to remain local. While there aren’t as many titled ladies, there are quite a few with respectable dowries,” he finished, then took a sip of tea, using the motion to close his argument, hoping it would suffice.
“I see. That is unfortunate. I’d rather have more than two eligible gentlemen on the list.” Lady Liliah bit her lip.
“Two is more than enough.” Miranda spoke up. “Truly, all we need is one. Rather, all I need is one, if it is the right one, you see.”
The right one; the idea filtered through him, condemning him and challenging him all at once.
He could be the right one, if he wanted to be.
But he didn’t. Not really.
Or at least, not enough to brave such a risk, which could create such a possible failure.
Because what if he failed? What if he was a horrible husband? What would that do to his friendship with Lucas, with his business partnership? So much hinged on success that he wasn’t willing to entertain the idea of it. Better to step back, allow things to take their natural course, and maintain the current flow of things.
It was safer.
Deep within, he knew it was the coward’s way out. And he hated that he was being so gutless.
“Miranda, you suggested a week from today for the party. Viscount Kilpatrick, do you think we can make that a possibility? We do not want to overtax your staff. And I should inform you that we made a slight adjustment to the plans. First, I think we should host the masquerade so that my sister can observe the gentlemen in question, and perhaps add other names to the list, and then, after she’s been introduced, we host the house party. I do believe you’ll find such an arrangement makes more sense. Now, what of your staff?” Lady Liliah inquired kindly.
“They will likely cheer when you break the news. I’m afraid I’m rather dull. And I have no objections to your amended plans.” At least no objections he could voice without creating a problem and a solution all at one fell swoop. Rather, he distracted himself by her question concerning the staff. He hated how true his response was, but when in Scotland, he simply blended into the scenery. It kept the talk down, so history was spoken about less often.
“Wonderful! If you’ll excuse me, I’ll seek out Mrs. Keyes and get the plans in motion.” Lady Liliah stood. “Sam—Miranda, would you accompany me? Because this event is about you, it is vital to have your input on all the details.” Lady Liliah had the posture of a doting mother, exuberant about the upcoming debut of her protégé. It was almost comical, but also rather endearing.
As the ladies quit the room, Heathcliff took another sip of his blasted tea and awaited Lucas’s verbal assault.
But no words were forthcoming. He hazarded a glance at his friend.
Lucas was watching him with that expression again, the one that saw too much, that knew too much. “Don’t fold too late.”
He repeated his earlier comment, rose, and then quit the room as well, leaving Heathcliff alone.
Odd how he’d wished to be alone twenty minutes earlier, and now that he’d gotten his wish, he resented ever thinking it.
Alone was another way to say being lonely, and for the first time in a long time, he realized it described him aptly.
Alone.
Lonely.
And he had the dangerous inclination to maybe, just maybe, do something to change that.
