Page 3 of The Marquess's Imperfect Brid
“I am well,” he said. “However, certainly not as well as you surely will be very soon, I suspect.”
Gareth helped himself to the tea, which steamed in the white porcelain pot that sat on the table between another sofa and four more chairs identical to his.
“Oh?” he asked, taking a sip of the hot beverage. “And why might that be?”
Thomas gave him a knowing look and another wicked grin.
“You have been gone for quite some time,” he said. “I believe that there are many eligible young ladies who will be thrilledbeyond compare of the news of your return.”
Gareth rolled his eyes. He knew that as the future duke of Darendale, it would be his responsibility to produce an heir to the family legacy. However, it was not something which he was prepared to give serious thought. His father still reigned, after all. He felt no need to rush himself into a union with a woman.
“I am certain they will find other gentlemen with whom to occupy their time,” he said dismissively. He wanted to change the subject before his mother could get any ideas. She was already acting strangely. He did not need her latching onto the notion of him marrying any time soon.
As they all settled into their seats, Ian Darnall entered the room. He was tall and imposing, carrying himself with an affinity for duty. Though his brown-black hair was streaked heavily with silver and his face lined with age, his hazel eyes were as sharp and stern as ever.
The duke was not alone, however. Behind him were three familiar figures. While his family had been a sight for sore eyes, the people accompanying his father were sights to make his eyes sore.
“Gareth, darling,” Lady Agnes Bingham drawled, opening her arms as she approached Gareth. “It is so lovely to see you again.”
Gareth rose and stiffly kissed the countess of Birington’s cheek.
“It is a pleasure,” he said, forcing a polite tone.
Lord Percival Bingham joined his wife and Gareth, bowing slowly with a small smile.
“There is nothing quite like a grand trip overseas for a man, is there?” He asked, clapping Gareth on the shoulder with a bit too much sharpness.
Gareth forced a chuckle and shook his head at the earl.
“Indeed,” he said.
Before he even looked at the third disquieting person, he could feel her gaze on him. Lady Cecilia approached with practiced grace, curtseying as she stood between her parents.
“Greetings, Gareth,” she said. “I am thrilled that you have returned home safely.”
Gareth bowed, ignoring the way she batted the lashes of her brown eyes as she stared at him.
“Hello, Lady Cecilia,” he said, refusing to use her Christian name plainly as she had done. She and her parents had been part of his life for as long as he could remember. Agnes was a dear friend to his mother, and Percival was an ambitious earl and a calculating businessman with whom Gareth’s father often partnered.
Yet despite the long history that Gareth and his family had with the Bingham’s, he had never liked them. They were too shallow, more concerned with social status and their fortune to offer anything sincere or not superficial, in Gareth’s opinion. He would never say as much, of course, and he was determined to remain polite. But he glanced at his father with a meaningful gaze, hoping for some indication as to when the unpleasant company might be departing.
When he met the duke’s gaze, he found his father’s eyes flashing with something which made his stomach turn. He had seen that expression on the duke’s face countless times when he was about to make a ruthless business negotiation, one which he knew he would win. The unease continued to grow within Gareth, and he quickly looked away. He decided to open a conversation with his aunt, hoping to dispel some of his discomfort. But before he could, Lady Cecilia spoke again, surprising him with how irritating the sound of her voice was rapidly becoming.
“Now that you are home, I trust that you plan to attend many of this season’s events,” she said.
Gareth tried not to shudder. As future duke, his attendance at social gatherings, especially during their peak in the late spring and summer months, was widely expected. However, there were few which truly held his interest. But it was the way that Lady Cecilia had spoken the words, as if his attendance at upcoming events had already been guaranteed and as if she had a stake in his attendance that made his stomach drop. If his parents thought he was going to spend the season serving as her escort to each ball and dinner party, they were sorely mistaken.
“I am certain that I will attend one or two,” he said casually.
His mother and father both gave him firm looks, causing him to squirm in his seat. There was certainly something happening. And it seemingly had something to do with Lady Cecilia. And even after all his time overseas, he still felt ill prepared for whatever it might be.
“We have accepted invitations to almost every ball on Gareth’s behalf,” the duchess said, giving her son a smile that did not reach her eyes. “I am sure that the two of you will be spending a great deal of time at them, as well, my dear Cecilia.”
Gareth pretended not to hear his mother’s words, even as the boulder of dread grew in his stomach. He had known Lady Cecilia and her family for many years. But they had never made him as uncomfortable as he felt right then. Still, he maintained a weak but polite smile. Throughout the rest of tea, he ignored the batting of Lady Cecilia’s eyelashes and the pointed looks from both their mothers. Once he was able, he would slip away to his guest chambers in his aunt’s home. There, he would remain until he felt rested enough to mingle with his family and their friends. Which, he suspected, would not be until a day or two after the members of the Bingham family departed.
As he rose at the conclusion of tea, however, Thomas approached him. He grabbed Gareth’s arm with a gentle but pointed grip. Gareth looked into his brother’s smiling face,noting a glimmer of intensity in the eyes which were so near identical to his own.
“Gareth, Brother, do join me for a walk,” he said. “I would hear all the tales of your trip.” He paused with a dramatic wagging of his eyebrows as he raised his voice just a little. “Especially those which you do not tell in the company of fair ladies.”
