Page 126 of The Lyon Whisperer
“By George, Lady Selbie, you’ve pegged it,” Chase answered, his tone conversational. “My wife, indeed, named her little band of rascals after the characters in the novel.”
“I adoredWaverley,”Lady Selbie said, her shy gaze swinging between Chase and Amelia.
Amelia sent the woman an encouraging smile. Chase’s seemingly unconcerned demeanor had greatly eased her mind.
Lord Selbie tossed his serviette on the table. “We can lay the blame for your lapse on that Scottish blood you inherited from your mother’s side, no doubt. Written by an obvious Jacobite sympathizer, from what I’ve heard. If you ask me they should have banned the book as incendiary. I’m sure Fallsgate agrees.” He sniffed and gave Chase an arch look.
The underlying challenge seemed clear, at least to Amelia. Side with Lord Selbie—and her father, evidently—and chastise Amelia for having read such drivel, or disagree with the marquis, and lose him as a potential ally.
Amelia held her breath. She’d put Chase in an untenable position. He needed Lord Selbie’s support, but to publicly mock not only Amelia but also Lady Selbie in such an unchivalrous manner would go against the fiber of his being.
Her father chose that moment to speak up. “I don’t see the gravity here, Selbie.Waverleyis a work of fiction, one which Prinny quite enjoyed. Once the prince regent touted it a must-read, who could blame the ladies for their interest?”
Gratitude for her father’s well-timed input filled her. He had stepped in to save the day for Chase. It was the second time tonight he had surprised her.
Earlier, as he escorted her from the drawing room to the dining hall, he asked her how she fared. Specifically, he wondered if Chase treated her with kindness and patience, or if he was too hard on her. Something in his eyes told her he felt true concern for her.
When she happily reported she found her husband to be more than tolerant of her eccentricities, she’d expected him to express gladness at the news. Instead, he seemed vexed, not pleased, and his next words only added to her confusion. “I only ever wanted what was best for you, Amelia.”
Chase’s resounding voice dragged her from her reverie. “Interesting about the prince regent, Lord Fallsgate. I hadn’t heard that. I, too enjoyed the book.” He lounged back in his chair as if prepared to expound on the subject for hours. “I found the author’s depiction of military actions and strategies stimulating. Too, the internal struggle of the hero,Edward,” he put in, stressing the name, and thus, his familiarity with the novel, “provoked much thought, as, I assume the anonymous author intended.”
His heavy-lidded, non-blinking gaze slid to Selbie’s.
A charged silence filled the room as the marquis’s face turned a dull shade of red.
Amelia saw her father roll his eyes. He gazed at the ceiling in a depressingly familiar fashion.
She had to act. She leapt to her feet practically upending her chair. “Would the ladies care to join me in the drawing room for coffee?”
The women present did not hesitate. With murmurs of assent, they rose from their seats, with the men following suit to stand in stoic silence as Amelia ushered Lady Frommer, Lady Selbie, and Lady Culver from the dining hall.
Chase resumed hisseat and gestured for the footmen to distribute the after-dinner drinks.
Across the table, he met his uncle’s twinkling, if sympathetic, gaze. The look said Chase had stepped in it now.
But then, if he could, Chase would tell his uncle nothing he said or did would inspire Lord Selbie to back legislation in support of the battle-scarred veterans dotting the streets and alleyways of London. His conversation tonight with the marquis had confirmed that much.
As the night wore on, Selbie, too, seemed to recognize they held diametrically opposed views. Whereas Chase saw the bulk of veterans as good men, who had sacrificed all for their country, only to return as heroes on the one hand, and rejected and shamed vermin on the other, Selbie saw the men in a much different light.
In a word, he saw them as chattel.
The rank-and-file soldiers lucky enough to come home, hale and hardy and able to resume day-to-day activities as if nothing had changed for them, were moderately tolerable to Selbie. Those who had lost a limb, or who had been somehow been altered on the inside, and now found themselves unable to lead consistent, productive lives were casualties of war and a problem beneath his notice.
Certainly he did not feel the Crown owed them anything other than the pay they had received for doing their civic duties.
Where Fallsgate landed on the topic was anyone’s guess. He tended to play his cards close, much as Amelia did when she did not want her feelings known, although Chase was learning to see through her mask of polite civility.
Regarding Selbie, Chase had accepted the truth of the matter an hour earlier. He would have to look elsewhere for support. Nothing beyond a simple case of un-likeminded peers.
Then, in the manner of a bully who knows he has the superior strength, Selbie flexed his muscles. His obnoxious behavior before the ladies exited the dining hall was an obvious attempt to educate Chase as to his place in the grand scheme of things. He had made a fatal mistake when he used Amelia as the means to do it. No one treated his wife with such blatant disrespect, especially not under Chase’s roof.
“A fine meal, m’boy, and vastly entertaining.” His uncle lifted his crystal glass of port in a silent toast.
Chase returned the gesture with a sardonic grin.
The two men drank.
“I have to admit, I was surprised to receive the invitation,” Lord Selbie said. “Curiosity to meet thenewly ennobled Iron Lion of Barrosacompelled me to accept.” He slanted Chase a chilly glance. “I can say, it’s been an illuminating evening.”
