Page 20 of The Viscount's Pearl
Laurence was in fact intending to go home alone tonight, but was not about to tell Radcliffe that. “Appointment already made, I’m afraid, can’t be undone.”
“You’re a dog, Mowatt,” said Radcliffe with a chuckle. “Don’t be getting involved with any duelling-minded husbands, will you?”
“I’ll try not to.”
Radcliffe turned to Lord Lymington, who shook his head.
“Dull man,” pronounced the Earl. “I’ll leave you to your paperwork, then. Nothing like coming into your inheritance to make a chap boring. You all need to learn to leave matters of business to your stewards, like I do.”
They watched him go, Lord Lymington frowning. “Does he run his estate well, though?”
“No,” said Laurence. “He lets parts of it go to rack and ruin, that’s what I hear. Don’t listen to him. Let’s go to the club and have a drink instead.”
Lymington looked relieved at the change of plan and agreed, leading the way through the busy throng. Laurence saw Miss Lilley watching him as an attendant helped her into her evening cloak ready to depart, her face thoughtful as she met his gaze. He nodded to her, but she did not nod back.
The Little Season was coming to an end as Christmas was now only a few weeks away. Although supposedly less demanding than the season proper, it was not proving a success for Frances and Lady Lilley was already losing patience after a particularly dismal social call.
“I didtry.”
“You did not try at all!” cried Lady Lilley, her temper beginning to rise at Frances’ stubborn insistence. “You were all but mute, Frances, indeed I could see Lady Carlisle beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with you.”
“Her perfume was overwhelming, and she would not stop talking.”
“Her perfume is from Paris, and she was paying a social call, of course she would talk! Did you expect us all to sit in silence together?”
“That would have been more agreeable,” muttered Frances, not daring to speak out loud for fear of increasing her mother’s wrath.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing,” mumbled Frances.
“Of course. You never do say anything. One might think you a dumb animal in a frock brought into the drawing room. Dash has more to say for himself than you do in company.”
Dash the spaniel, hearing his name, came forward wagging his tail and whimpered with affection when Lady Lilley caressed his ears.
“You see? He speaks more than you do.”
Frances held her tongue with some effort. Antagonising her mother too far was not wise when she had a favour to ask. “Might I go and visit Lord Barrington until the season begins in earnest?” she asked.
“How are you supposed to make the most of there being fewer ladies in town during the Little Season if you run away to Margate again? You are not likely to meet anyone worth knowing there… unless you have?” asked Lady Lilley, suddenly hopeful. “Haveyou met someone, Frances? Is there a young man in Margate to whom you have formed an attachment?”
“No, of course not.”
“But you said Mr Mowatt was there on your last visit, was he not a suitable person?”
“I’m sure he is suitable,” said Frances. “He has no interest in me, however.”
Lady Lilley sighed.
“Can I go?”
“I suppose if you were not much seen until the season proper, it might be for the best.” said Lady Lilley. “It might make you look… well, anyway, yes, you may go and visit Lord Barrington.Let us hope he remembers you when he dies. You have spent more time with him than any of his other young relations.”
To Frances this sounded positively grasping, but she knew better than to say so, instead hurriedly leaving the room and instructing Deborah to pack before her mother could change her mind.
Chapter 6
Caught by the Tides
