Page 47 of The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady
Barrington stared at him a full second before exploding into laughter. “It has taken you long enough to come around to it. I thought we would be here all day at it. Come, let us go in to eat. Normally, I’d suggest going around to my club for a bird and a bottle, but the weather is decidedly against such an enterprise. I suspect we would do better to join the ladies in their luncheon.”
“Luncheon!” James stared at the man. He was having trouble keeping up. A moment ago, they were talking ships, and now he’d just about managed to ask for Helena’s hand in marriage, and they were suddenly talking about luncheon as though gentlemen of good standing ever took the midday meal with the ladies.
“Unless you wish to starve, I would suggest it. I learned shipboard the value of keeping one’s strength up before a fight, whether it be against the elements or your own crew. I suspect you might be in for one if you intend to court my daughter in earnest. She is rather caught up in the nonsense regarding that brooch.”
There were a lot of things unanswered actually. “So, I might ask her to marry me?” James asked, going with the more important matter first.
Barrington pondered this briefly. “I would suggest finishing out your courtship as agreed upon in the terms set out in the original contract you made with her if you expect her to listen to you at all.”
“But I gave back the brooch!” James burst out in exasperation.
“Did you?” was all the reply he got, for Barrington was already halfway to the door.
“You did not answer me about the ship either. What debt could you possibly owe me?” James shouted, holding his ground, still standing at the desk covered in its plethora of papers, blueprints half tumbled to the floor.
“And that might be a question better asked your mother,” Barrington said and disappeared out the door into the hallway beyond.
James stared after the man, sure that the old fool had gone completely crazy. “My mother?” he murmured, the words making no sense upon his tongue. “My mother has been gone for years.”
Chapter 30
Helena had long since given up the idea of having a luncheon with her aunt. Phoebe usually enjoyed morning callers without her and so ate with them if at all. To understand that the Duke of Durham would be in attendance at this meal seemed outrageous and strange. Men did not take part in luncheon — it was strictly a ladies’ meal.
She glanced out the windows as she passed them, noting the way the snow blew against the panes. Undoubtedly, they were trapped here for the afternoon. Her father usually ate something at his club, she knew.
Shivering somewhat, Helena hastened her steps to the dining room, wishing that Tess had been the one to assist her in making herself ready. The flowered dress she wore felt out of place, being far too summery for such a dismal day. The fabric was thin, and her limbs nearly frozen by the time she found her seat at the table.
Thankfully the fire was high in the room, taking the edge off the chill. Helena slid into her seat, noting that Phoebe was already there. The gentlemen were not.
She wanted to ask if they were in fact coming, but the number of place settings suggested they were.
Phoebe smiled as she sat, so Helena felt she was at least doing something right in arriving early. Her timing was impeccable, in fact, for a moment later the door opened to admit her father followed by the Duke of Durham.
Helena’s face flamed, and she ducked her head to stare at the table in front of her as he sat, unsure what to say, outside of a murmured greeting as he took his place.
He was too close. She could almost feel the warmth radiating from him.How do I do this? I must tell him somehow, he is not to come here again, that I will not hold him to this agreement. He can even keep the brooch. I said as much in that letter. That letter! How I wish Aunt Phoebe had not burned it!
The Duke of Durham was the very picture of good manners and fine breeding. He truly was a beautiful thing to behold, in his looks and bearing to be sure. But his beauty went deeper than that, in the kind smile he bestowed upon the girl serving the meal when she stumbled and nearly dropped the platter of sandwiches she carried.
He was just as kind to her, turning to ask her how she fared, his eyes filled with a sweet concern that only went to prove how fine his soul was.
“I am well, thank you, Your Grace,” she said in response, looking with dismay at the soup her father had ordered ‘to warm them up’ for her fingers were especially bad today with the sores making them stiff. Soup would be very difficult to manage under such circumstances.
Phoebe made a sort of strangled coughing sound from the Duke’s other side, and Helena flushed. She suspected her silence was being seen as rude, though it seemed so very difficult to wrap her tongue around the words. “I wish to thank you for the outing last night. It was highly…educational.”
At that, her father exploded into laughter. “Especially for the thief, I should say. From what I understand, he was begging the constable to lock him away by the time he got there.”
Helena flushed.Whymust he bring up the matter as though it were little more than a terrible joke?
“I thought you very brave,” the Duke replied, proving again, how kind a nature he possessed to make such a statement.
This was the problem with him. The Duke was entirely too considerate. And to keep him here was cruel and even unkind. She must, at some point in this visit, express to him everything she had written in the letter before this went any further.
Her father spoke into the silence that followed that statement. “I am well-pleased that our young friend here will be staying the night. I would much appreciate it if both you ladies took it upon yourselves to make him feel at his most welcome this evening, as I am sure this storm has inconvenienced him greatly.”
It was a gentle chiding, and Helena flushed, fumbling with her spoon desperately only to have it clatter into the bowl as it slipped through her fingers. Soup splashed in every direction, staining the linen tablecloth and her gloves both with a fine spatter of chestnut soup.
Helena stared aghast at the mess.Why, oh, why must I always be so clumsy?
