“You will want a titled gentleman for Lady Sarah, one with far more than I have to offer.”
“Ah. Now I understand.” Hugh grinned. “A man who will take good care of my sister means more to me than a title.” He thought briefly of Cardew. “If this means you wish to court my sister, you have my full support.”
Luke leaned back in his chair, his shoulder sagging with obvious relief. “I find myself in a quandary where Lady Sarah is concerned. She interrupts my sleep.”
Hugh nodded. He understood only too well what that meant. “I couldn’t be more pleased, Luke. I had wished to see you two together.”
Luke leaned forward, his blue eyes intense. “Trouble is, I have no idea if I have a chance with her. Viscount Cardew is probably still in London and won’t give her up easily. And I don’t trust the fellow. It was all I could do not to plant him a facer in Hyde Park.”
“I wouldn’t have objected had you done so. But Cardew is to marry Lady Gwendolyn Piper. I suspect his mother is behind the marriage. Hard to see him going against her wishes.” His bodytensed with the anger and frustration he’d suffered for Sarah’s sake. “His mother has always had an iron control over him.”
Luke smiled. “Then perhaps I have a chance.”
“More than a good one, old fellow.” Hugh had noticed Sarah’s interest in Luke. But was it too soon for her to put Cardew behind her? “Shall we have another bottle? Or will we go to the card room?”
“Cards. Another bottle and I’ll be legless. I’m never good at drinking to excess, so I don’t usually imbibe very much.”
“I can’t afford to get bosky myself. Not when I’m leaving for Newcastle first thing in the morning.” Hugh pushed back his chair. He couldn’t have been more pleased. Could he leave London without worrying about Sarah? That was one problem off his mind. But it left him with two others to stew over. His mother’s health and Lucy facing the ‘cut direct’ should her lie be bandied about. Was he being overly protective? It seemed he always had been where she was concerned, and ladies didn’t always appreciate that level of interference. “Go and see Sarah soon, Luke.”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
“Perfect.”
At the door of the card room, Hugh spied Mr. Rattray seated at a table. “Do you know anything about that fellow in a gray tailcoat and striped waistcoat?”
“Only that he’s known not to pay his bills.”
“There would be a few here who fail in that regard,” Hugh said. Still, it gave him pause to think. The man was unreliable. He remembered their first meeting, watching Rattray charming people. Hugh had taken an immediate dislike to him.
The next morning, he glanced at the few dark clouds on the horizon as his coach left London behind and headed north on the Great Northern Road. He cursed. He didn’t relish traveling in bad weather. Even though improvements had been made tothe road, mud-filled potholes still caused damage to vehicles and held up traffic. He sat back against the squab, already impatient and wishing he could ride Chance instead of traveling by coach.
What Luke had confessed to him over dinner pleased him a great deal. Now that Sarah had a new suitor, and one he admired, Hugh felt more confident about her resisting any further advances from Cardew, should he make any. Though it would be foolish to think Cardew would give up easily after the scene Luke had described to Hugh at the park. What did he hope to gain from this behavior? Surely, he wouldn’t want Sarah for his mistress?
Hugh might even extend the trip a week or two. Travel over the Scottish border to dig into Rattray’s past. It was unusual for him to take an instant dislike to anyone, but something about the fellow bothered him, and he didn’t like him being anywhere near Lucy. For that matter, he didn’t want any of those other fellows who took an interest in Lucy around her, either. But although he had found it extremely difficult not to declare his feelings for her when with her in the phaeton, he’d resisted. It would have come like a bolt out of the blue, and probably shocked her. And he needed time to court her properly. Well, he had now placed himself out of temptation and only hoped that some gentleman didn’t snap Lucy up while he was away. It was a risk, but being in London and unable to declare his intentions, he’d be just as hamstrung.
On the afternoon of the third day, after spending a night at a coaching inn where he changed the horses, his coach arrived at Newburn, in Newcastle. The weather was much colder than in London. Wickstaff stepped down and sniffed the air. “It’s like comin’ home, milord.”
“Do you want to return here to live?” Hugh asked his valet.
“When I’m old and gray, perhaps.” He looked around. “Shall I head up to that pub on the corner and wait for you?”
“Good idea.” Glad of his warm greatcoat, Hugh left Wickstaff and entered the mill to be greeted by a cacophony of noises: men shouting, hammers ringing on metal, whooshing waters, and clouds of steam.
An hour later, he departed after a satisfactory discussion with the manager, Mr. Devlin, who agreed with his views on how to improve productivity and expressed appreciation for his input.
He deliberated on whether to return immediately to London. It was tempting, but Isabel was not yet married, and he wanted to learn more about Rattray for Lucy’s sake, so he ordered the coachman to drive on to Scotland.
Chapter Eleven
During a longweek, Lucy heard nothing from Sarah. To appease her aunt on Monday and again on Friday, Lucy rode to the park in Mr. Nash’s high-perch phaeton with Maisie, hanging on to the side of the ridiculously high vehicle. Nash called again on Saturday after they’d danced at a ball on Friday evening, and took tea with them.
Lucy considered him very young, and so very conscious of his image among members of theton. She feared he might believe the rumor, now gaining even more credence in London. A guest at the latest ball had asked her about it and another person had spoken of it to her a few evenings ago. She was sick of having to refute it and watch them decide if she was being humble. A lady said she found Lucy’s discretion admirable.
But Mr. Nash explained he liked to be seen with her.“A lot of fellows will envy me, escorting a pretty lady,”he’d said. It was odd how empty his compliment seemed. As if she might be a new, fancy vehicle or a horse he bought.
It all made her tired, of herself, and of London. She moped until Aunt Mary told her to brighten up and said men disliked sad women. If only she could see Sarah. Perhaps she had news of her brother, but that thought worried her afresh.
On the following Monday, Mr. Rattray came to dinner. Aunt Mary fussed about him, ensuring he had every comfort, as he talked of his close friendship with Viscount Castlereagh. “He often seeks my opinion,” he said, which Lucy thought pompous.
