“You have nine of your ten men on the committee now,” she said. “Your uncle tells me.”
“Youareinformed. I only confirmed the last three of them yesterday.” And they were all MPs—Mrs Ardingly had been pleased. His visit to Kent had secured the last of them, the man not being in town.
“And the success of the ball is certain, even with this odd fundraising ticket business,” said Lady Frances. “All of townwould pay twice as much to attend the Duchess of Cumbria’s first ball as hostess. Everyone is fevered with curiosity. You chose that introduction well.”
“Cynical, Lady Frances, very cynical. They come to support The Society for Ending Cruelty to Children.”
“Another masterstroke, Cote, leaving their real issue undefined—who can argueforcruelty to children?”
“Oh, the name isn’t mine, much as I’d like to take credit for it. It was Mrs Ardingly’s suggestion and voted in unanimously—the committee is formed enough to already be producing copious amounts of paperwork.”
“No wonder Sir Nathan is in such a bad mood. One more man on the committee and your victory is complete.”
“And the tenth man is already decided.”
“Oh?”
He smiled, glancing up to confirm the rain had stopped, the sun as watery as gin. “You’ll have to wait and see.” He reached for the door.
“I’m saving my first dance for you, Cote. Don’t embarrass me by not claiming it.”
With a bow, he stepped out into the street.
Twenty
Sebastian returned home andhanded his rain-damped greatcoat and hat into Joshua’s care, the man informing him that Lady Pemberthy and Mrs Ardingly awaited him in the sitting room.
How domestic; he could set his watch by them. Two o’clock in the afternoon was Tom’s reading lesson. Smiling, he went forwards with eager steps but checked on the threshold.
Mrs Ardingly sat at a small, square table by the window, where the watery light fell clear and bright. Across from her was her aunt. Tom sat with his back to the room, his feet barely touching the ground. And with them, the window behind him…was his father.
They were playing cards.
“Well. This is…charming.” He crossed the room towards them, cautious, slow, as though he feared to wake a lightly sleeping cat.
All four looked over. Mrs Ardingly smiled. So did his father.
“Join us, join us!” He was clean-shaven, and he was dressed, his coat several years out of date but neat enough. “Trying to teach the boy whist. Needs more than two to play, you see.”
He barely even sounded drunk, or no more than the thickening scars that drink had left in his voice.
But hope was a dangerous elixir. Sebastian had sipped it once or twice before, only to be poisoned to the marrow. Sometimes there were months when his father seemed reformed, but it never lasted. Never. And there hadn’t been any such months for a long time.
“I won’t interrupt your game.” He smiled lightly. He spoke lightly. Light, light as confectioner’s froth, as though none of this meant anything. It didn’t. By tonight, his father would be raving.
Lady Pemberthy let out a bemused puff of air. “Take my cards, Lord Cotereigh! I’ve never had any head for these games of cleverness. And that young rascal there has nearly taken my every penny.” She put her cards on the table, face down, and stood. “Take over my hand. See if you can win them back for me. I’ve better luck counting stitches than counting cards.”
“Both are equally baffling to me,” he claimed politely. “But I will try my best.”
He took the vacated seat. Lady Pemberthy went to sit on the sofa nearby, rifling through her ever-present sewing bag. He lifted the cards with the edge of his thumb and fanned them in his hand. He’d always liked that sound—the rustle and snap of the cards.
He looked briefly at his father, who was frowning placidly at his own hand of cards. He looked at Mrs Ardingly and saw soft sympathy in her eyes. It stabbed a vulnerable spot. She saw. She knew the hope that would not die.
Her small smile was a reassuring hand laid on his wrist. He could almost feel it, warm through the layers of coat and shirt cuff.
He knew a man who claimed his mistress was the greatest friend he had on earth. She knew all his failings, he said, in the way a wife could never be allowed to.
The head of a family had to be a great many things. Weak wasn’t one of them.
