Page 7 of The Baroness of Sin
James looked as if he had been physically struck. “Well, I must be thankful that I have no plans of leaving for other pastures anytime soon, less I would be without the company of someone both so fortunate and so lovely.”
They both felt his eyes on her at the same time, and she was prepared to use it against him cuttingly when instead her cheeks felt flushed. Had he tried to insult her or compliment her? A poor excuse for either, most assuredly. “Much the gentleman that you are to measure me so?”
James turned away, embarrassed and in denial. “I was simply astonished that a lady of such clear high standing could treat her home and guests in such a fashion, and you, in turn, mistook my astonishment for awe. In the future, would you mind being a might more considerate of your neighbors having to endure your raucous events, hm?”
Before Martha could summon another angry rebuttal, the Earl had slipped into the outer garden to make his way back to his home, leaving her with her cheeks burning in the dark.
Chapter Six
That anger would continue to smolder for the rest of the evening. Thankfully, there wasn’t much of the party left to ruin, so Martha didn’t feel forced to hold the brazen lord accountable for that. Unfortunately, she still found herself thinking of him the following morning.
“It would seem that the ball was a great success. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself within many invitation circles for years to come. It might even improve your chances of finding someone to marry,” Emma commented as they ate their breakfast.
“I don’t want to marry. I want to find someone with whom I can be passionate,” Martha told her sister crossly, “and not everyone was a fan of the festivities. It would appear one of our neighbors, Lord Barristen, found our party inappropriate.”
“I do recall saying that was a possibility,” Emma noted.
Martha continued, getting more heated, “No one at the party made any sort of observation.”
“As your guests, it would have been more scandalous to make the observation to you directly,” Emma sighed, “which makes Lord Barristen nothing short of an absolute rascal.” It was clear to Martha that she wasn’t taking her frustration very seriously. “I thought he chose not to attend. Did he show up unexpectedly?”
“He came to get his daughter,” Martha explained in a clipped tone, not appreciating her sister’s dry humor.
“We invited his daughter?” Emma asked, sounding genuinely confused.
“No, she wandered in through the garden. I guess she saw the lights and music from her room and wanted to come and see what was going on,” Martha’s tone became more forgiving when the subject turned to Amanda from her infuriating father.
“And he came to retrieve her and was rude to you in the process? He really is a scoundrel,” Emma said with a note of indignation.
“Exactly,” Martha felt the embers of her anger start to spark again. “Insulting my ladyship. He knew I wouldn’t make a scene because of my party. I’m inclined to go over there and give him a piece of my mind.”
“Really?” Emma asked with no small measure of surprise. “I would have figured that you would never want to see him again.”
Of course, Martha never wanted to see him again, not socially. Still, and she would never admit this to her sister, the way he just appeared in the night to whisk his daughter away was... intriguing. It didn’t hurt that he was so handsome. Certainly, she never wanted to see him again. But looking at him a bit more wouldn’t hurt…
* * *
“M’Lord? You are writing on your shirt sleeve,” Mr. Page said cautiously.
“Hm?” James looked down from his view of the neighboring Manor through his office window and found he had extended the missive from the paper onto the white fabric of his shirt. “Curses,” he swore and dabbed at his sleeve with a handkerchief to no avail.
James stood and strode to the door of his office, and Mr. Arthur Page stepped out of his way. The young man was probably barely older than eighteen, and if he were any skinnier, he would have been hard to spot in a forest. He was one of the employees of the shipping company that James was an investor in: Killan & Company. Though technically not one of his people, Mr. Page was often close on hand as a go-between for the Earl and the bosses and captains from the docks.
James opened the door and called for a servant to bring him a new shirt. “Apologies, Mr. Page. My mind has been wandering elsewhere.”
“No need to apologize to the likes of me, M’Lord. My time ain’t worth but pennies to yours,” he said with a friendly smile. “‘Sides, where else do I have to be. Not like I can go back to work without those papers and the like.”
“True,” James said absentmindedly, looking out the window once more.
“If you don’t mind me asking, M’Lord, what is it that is occupying your mind? As it certainly doesn’t seem to be the business, and the last time I saw you focused on anything more than the business was... well actually I can’t say I’ve ever seen you focus on anything more than Killan & Co., truth be told,” the young man admitted.
James had to shake himself from the actual distraction to answer the question. “I, hm, I had a run-in with one of my neighbors; it was a bit confrontational, I must admit.”
“Confrontational, M’Lord? Does that mean you are going to have to defend your honor? Going to have to duel with swords and pistols in secret and the like?” Mr. Page laughed as if he found the whole idea of a duel quite ridiculous. James could not find the humor in it, himself, but he knew that the young man meant well.
“No, not that sort of confrontation. It was with the lady of the house. A ball she was hosting was a bit more disruptive than I would have liked. I fear I may have been a bit harsh though,” James said, more to himself than to his employee.
“Well, whenever I upset the missus, I just put my hat in hand and apologize. I don’t always understand why, but I find it safer to er on the side of sorry, as I am sure you know M’Lord,” Mr. Page nodded with a knowing smile.
