“You do not seem yourself this evening.” Joanna eyed her in the mirror. “Is it the Earl?”
She loved her sister, but their relationship had not been one of sharing confidences. Joanna was the one she went to for nonconventional issues. Her oldest sister, Mariel, was the one she went to when she needed a secret kept. And Belinda, kind Belinda, now buried in her cold tomb, had been the only one to see her heart and her unrealistic dream. So she lied. “No, it’s not the Earl. I’ve been contemplating a problem with my background on my current painting, and it keeps nagging at me.”
“I should have guessed. Well, do try to focus on your companions for the rest of the evening, even if you ignore all that I say.” Joanna winked before giving her a fond smile and heading for the door.
It was good advice. Now if she could just follow it. Checking her appearance one more time, she followed her sister from the room. Maybe tonight, once she was home, she would stay up and attempt again to sketch the man who understood mystic moments and might become her unwanted husband.
Chapter Four
Andrew found hismother in the drawing room adjusting the flowers in a vase on the pedestal to the left of the fireplace. He stopped in the middle of the room and surveyed it. “A fitting space for our guests this evening.”
She turned at the sound of his voice, her hand to her chest just above her midnight blue dress, which accentuated her pale wrinkled face with eyes too far apart. “Andrew, I told you not to startle me like that. If I didn’t know better, I would think you part cat.” She shivered.
“I apologize. I thought the heels of my boots on the entry floor would have been enough to announce my presence.” He wasn’t surprised she hadn’t noticed. His father’s death had taken a great toll on her in many ways. He’d found her unaware of her surroundings more than once.
She put her fingers to her greying temple, a common movement for her of late. “I didn’t hear you. I’m just too worried about this evening. When I first planned this dinner, it was only a few friends, but hosting a Marquess’ daughters without Lord Sommerset has my nerves quite rattled.”
He didn’t correct his mother on the fact that he was now Lord Sommerset. He understood her feelings as he too missed his father on a daily basis. While he empathized with her, he could not very well tell his fragile mother that the main purpose for Lady Amelia’s presence was to determine if he could save their comfortable style of living by selling his paintings instead of by marrying her. He was sure his mother would take to her bed until her death if she even heard a hint of their financial troubles. “You will find Lady Amelia quite easy to contend with. I’m sure her eldest sister will be accommodating as well. Perhaps you can speak to Lady Mariel about events such as these. I understand she is widowed as well.”
Though he’d meant to assuage his mother’s nerves, water filled her eyes. Damn. The word “widow” always sent her into tears. Scanning the room, he quickly made to distract her. “Do you think that chair should be moved next to the settee? It seems a little out of place over there.”
His mother’s attention instantly switched. “I’m not sure. Let me stand where you are.” She glided over to him, the strong scent of roses filling his nostrils. “Oh yes, I see what you mean. I will get Mr. Pratt to move it. Thank you, dear.”
As she exited the room, he moved to the window. Lanterns lit the short walk from the road to the front door of the house. The butler, Mr. Pratt, knew not to tell his mother that all the paintings had been moved into the study.
He’d taken the precaution of locking the door. So much of his future course depended upon this evening and the woman he’d hardly given a passing thought to until barely a sennight ago, and now found himself thinking about continually.
Like his mother, he wished his father were with him this evening. In truth, he’d wished for his father’s presence much over the last nine months. Mostly in the first days after the earl’s death when he’d discovered the many bills not paid, the ledgers an undecipherable mess, and their coffers sorely depleted. He’d wanted to know why, but had soon pieced together what had happened.
The disease had taken his father’s usual attention to detail and possibly even his memory. Though he’d known his father had mistresses over the years, and even indulged in a night at a brothel now and again, he hadn’t realized to what extent those activities had sickened him until it was too late. Luckily, after seeing his mother’s red rimmed eyes many a morning when his father had not arrived home, he had determined as a young man to be very careful about his bed partners. It was his goal to remain monogamous with the woman he married, which was, in part, why his search had been taking so long.
He grinned as Harewood’s coach came to a halt in front of the house. His friend had helped him avoid complete financial collapse after he’d paid all the debts and now the investments were starting to improve, but mother nature’s odd behavior had him trapped in an unfortunate situation. Everyone was calling it the year without a summer, which also meant a year without crops and tenants unable to pay rents or even feed themselves.
As Harewood strode up the walk, he moved out into the entryway where Pratt was already opening the door. Pratt was the only person in the household who knew about their financial issues besides himself, and he planned to keep it that way.
He waited for Harewood to remove his great coat and hat before stepping forward. “You are the first to arrive. Thank you. Mother will be very pleased.”
His friend’s smile was genuine. “I would not want to disappoint her.”
Moving to the side to indicate the parlor, he waited for Harewood to join him, and they strode in together. “How was Tattersalls? Did you buy that stallion you spoke of?”
Harewood moved to the fireplace, his dark clothes and coloring in stark contrast to the white mantel. “No. Melbourne was all too happy to steal it from under me. But I did find a gentle mare to my liking.”
From the smirk on his friend’s face, he understood he wasn’t speaking about an animal. “You did? Do I know her?”
“I hope not.” Harewood chuckled. “I have yet to ascertain if she prefers the light or the dark.”
“That’s fair.” He grinned. At school they had played off each other’s looks with pranks and with the ladies. The habit of Harewood dressing dark, and he light every time they were aware they would be in the same place, had limited both their wardrobes, so what started as a bit of fun became habit. Even tonight, Harewood’s deep blue coat was in stark contrast to his own beige one. He moved to where he could see out the window while still conversing with his friend. His plan was to whisk the ladies into the study as soon as they arrived.
“Do you need me to distract your mother while you escort Lady Amelia in to view your collection?”
Harewood’s question led him to divulging his quandary. “I would like your thoughts on that. Though the Lady Amelia is coming with her widowed sister, I do not know if said sister would be truthful if anything were to be assumed.”
His friend shook his head. “Will you ever overcome Lady Frederica?”
“Of course. Once I’ve married a lady ofmychoosing.”
“If that is the way of it. I will accompany you to the study. Perhaps you can have Mr. Pratt interfere if your mother comes to seek you out?”
