Page 35 of The Lady Tempts an Heir
As if he was pausing for dramatic effect, Thorne waited a beat before saying, “The honorable Lord Farthington requests that you join him in the lounge.”
“Farthington?”
Christian grinned. “You can’t court his daughter and not expect him to find you.”
“No, I suppose not.” Only he hadn’t thought the man would seek him out so soon. “Damn. I didn’t come dressed to meet him.”
“Go have your shower bath. We’ll find something for you to wear,” Christian said.
A quarter of an hour later, Max was in the club’s sleek lounge area in borrowed shirtsleeves and his own coat to face Helena’s father. The lounge consisted of two rather expansive rooms with an open door between them. Dark wood paneling and gas lighting fixtures set at intervals along the wall gave the space an intimate feel meant to foster conversation. This was further enhanced by groupings of plush leather chairs arranged around low tables at each of the several fireplaces.
Lord Farthington wasn’t difficult to spot. He sat in a chair near the fire looking over a newspaper like any other man enjoying a moment of solitude in his club; the only difference was that Farthington seemed unable to relax. His back was as straight as a board, his chin perfectly parallel to the floor. A similar posture to his daughter. The thought almost made Max smile, but it wasn’t quite enough to overcome his anxiety at having to face the man.
The whole room appeared to be aware of what was happening. Though it was only half-filled with patrons, they all seemed to watch as Max passed, their eyes going automatically to Farthington and back again.
“Lord Farthington. Good to see you.” Max took the chair across from him.
The older man took his time folding the paper and removed the cigar from his mouth. “Crenshaw.” The few times Max had met him socially, he had been difficult to read, but he seemed to be attempting to keep a stoic face even more tonight. As a well-known member of Parliament, Farthington was renowned for being particularly sharp, and Papa had confirmed that to Max through hisdealings with him as the railroad contracts were being negotiated.
“I didn’t know you were a member.” Max kept his voice measured and hoped it wouldn’t carry. The groups in the room were far enough removed that their conversation shouldn’t be overheard, though several men glanced their way surreptitiously.
“White’s is my club. I came here to see you.”
“I thought so.” Max kept still under the man’s narrowed inspection. He was accustomed to dealing with irate stakeholders and adversaries; this was no different.
“What are your plans for Helena?”
He hadn’t been prepared for the man to come out with it. In his experience, men like him preferred to hem and haw, saying things without actually saying them to maintain plausible deniability. Thankfully, a footman approached with a tray bearing a single tumbler of scotch, giving Max a few precious moments to collect his thoughts.
“Thank you,” he murmured to the man, who gave a short bow and silently walked away. He was impressed that someone had obviously remembered the drink he’d had after dinner and sent over a fresh one. Lightly resting it on his knee after savoring a sip, he said to Farthington, “Right now we’re simply enjoying each other’s company.”
“And then what will you be doing?”
“That will be decided when the time comes.”
The older man’s expression didn’t change, but he let out a light huff of air. “Don’t you think you should deign to speak to me before continuing this courtship?”
“Forgive me, my lord, but Helena is a grown woman. A widow. I was led to believe that she controls her own concerns.”
Her father took a slow puff of his cigar, letting the smoke escape in a slow wisp. “So she does, but a courtship is a different matter. She is still my daughter, still a part of my family, and she always will be. Make no mistake that if thiscourtship progresses and I disapprove, then it will go no further.”
A fresh wave of anger and frustration came over him. It wouldn’t do to antagonize the man, because theywouldeventually need his blessing. If the courtship were real, then it might not matter so much, but it wasn’t, and the smoother this went the better for everyone. Still, he couldn’t let the comment pass. Perhaps it was because he was fresh from the fight for both August’s and Violet’s future, but he was angry on Helena’s behalf. “You don’t own your daughter.”
“I do not.” He looked as if he were disgusted by the very suggestion that he might. “I do, however, own her trust, her esteem, and her loyalty. She won’t go against my wishes, not when they’re to the betterment of the family.”
Max took another drink of the scotch, forcing himself to not challenge the man. “Are you saying you disapprove?”
Farthington picked up his own drink, which appeared to be brandy, and took a swallow. “It should come as no surprise that you were not my first choice... until last night.”
Awareness of the profundity of that statement moved through his body like a physical sensation. His skin prickled, and he found himself sitting up straighter. “Last night?”
“Helena is a strange woman. I care for her deeply, but she has never been like my other daughters. She has... sensitivities, as you are aware.”
“Sensitivities? You mean her charities?”
Farthington nodded. “She wants to save every unfortunate she finds, doesn’t matter that it never helps.”
“Well, it sometimes helps.”
