Page 21 of An Earl Like You
Hugh sat back in his chair. “How does Willy fare?”
Her shoulders eased. “Perfectly well. He chased a duck into the river the other day and required another bath.” Hugh made a face and she smiled. “I spoke to all the staff, and now the doors stay firmly closed when Willy is in his bath, so he can’t run wild in the house again.”
“You said you found him.” Talking about the dog put her at ease. It seemed the safest topic for now.
“I did.” Her face brightened, and she turned in her chair to face him. “Under a bush near Kew. William—that’s our head groom—believes he’s half spaniel, half pointer, and that he was the result of an illicit liaison between some gentleman’s hunting dog and his lady’s lapdog.”
Hugh laughed. “I’m sure it happens all the time.”
She regaled him with a few more anecdotes about Willy. Her demeanor completely changed when she talked about the dog, Hugh realized. Instead of blushing and shy, she grew animated and droll. She made him laugh with the story of Willy meeting a new calf at the market, and he was surprised when the lights went down again for the farce to begin. Edward Cross slipped into the box as the orchestra began to play, handing his daughter a glass of lemonade.
Hugh paid no more attention to the farce than he had to the opera. He took every opportunity to study the young woman sitting beside him. She didn’t hide her amusement at the production on stage, laughing at the pranks of the fool and clapping one hand to her mouth when the hero fell to his knee and proclaimed his love for the fainting maiden. Hugh sensed it was all genuine, as genuine as her nerves and her devotion to Willy and even her welcoming words to him this evening. Eliza Cross was not a liar.
Her father, though, would put Machiavelli to shame.
When it was over, he bade them farewell. While Miss Cross was adjusting her shawl, he leaned close to Mr. Cross. “I shall call on Thursday next at two o’clock,” he murmured. “Tell her you expect to be home by then, but delay half an hour.”
Cross nodded once.
“And for God’s sake, let her invite her friends as usual the next time you come to the theater,” Hugh added. “She’ll become suspicious if we keep meeting this way, and a woman’s heart is influenced by her friends’ approval.”
Cross gave him a sharp look, but Hugh ignored it and walked away, into the crowd of people leaving the theater.
He was considering the evening, and realizing with some surprise that it had been more enjoyable than expected, when someone slung an arm around his shoulders. “Hastings,” exclaimed a voice in his ear. “As I live and breathe, man! What are you doing here?”
He laughed and shrugged off his friend’s hold. Robert Fairfield, younger brother of the Duke of Raleigh, punched him in the shoulder, grinning broadly. “Fancy seeing you here. I didn’t know you liked opera.”
Fairfield made a face. “Not much. My mother’s in town. She thinks I ought to get married or some ridiculous thing, and she’s dragged me ’round to balls and theater and I don’t know what else. It’s a bloody miracle I haven’t succumbed to an intense affliction of stupendous boredom.”
“You, married? Thatisridiculous,” agreed Hugh.
“Right!” His friend grinned. “But you, apparently not. Got your eye on Double Cross’s daughter?”
Hugh paused on the brink of denying it. He couldn’t confirm it, not yet, but he did need to start planting seeds. “Double Cross? You mean Edward Cross?”
“That’s the one. Stole a promising investment right from under Raleigh.”
“Stole?” repeated Hugh slowly. “How?”
“Well—stole.” Fairfield made a face. “My brother was in a lather over being denied it. Blamed Cross. Something about canal bonds, I don’t know. All I was told is, Cross fights dirty and we should all hate his guts.”
His muscles eased. He already knew Cross played dirty, and it wasn’t wrong to say he hated the man, either. “I’ll keep an eye on my investment, then.”
“And your back,” warned Fairfield. “Before you know it, Cross will have swindled you right out of your trousers and your braces, and leave you holding your small clothes up with both hands.” Then he grinned slyly. “Of course, if you think to win his daughter, that would steal a march on him...”
“Miss Cross seems a lovely girl, I must tell you,” he said, deliberately ignoring the rest. “My sisters would call her sweet. Not like her father at all.”
“No?” His friend looked thoughtful, then shrugged it off. “Are you headed for Vega’s tonight?”
Of course he was. If by some miracle the gods of luck smiled on him, he might yet win enough to give Edith a proper dowry. Of course, Cross would still own him, and Hugh didn’t think all the luck in the world would enable him to win enough to pay that debt. “I’ll see you there,” he told Fairfield, who raised one hand in farewell and ambled off with some other young bucks.
Well, he’d known all along it would attract notice. If merely entering a box caught Fairfield’s attention, Hugh should assume half of London would know about it by tomorrow. He would have to think of what to tell his mother and sisters.
Chapter 9
Eliza was having a hard time keeping herself from thinking of Lord Hastings.
She had never had this problem with any of Papa’s other partners. It was probably because most of them were neither handsome nor charming, while the earl was both, but it was more than that. Mr. Grenville had used to bring her sweets when she was a girl, and Sir David had used to tell her she looked like her mother, but it was clear they didn’t have any interest in her. The earl actually spoke to her, asking about Willy and complimenting her voice. At times he seemed more interested in her than in her father, which was rare. Papa was a larger than life personality, with a booming laugh and a brash, bold way. She told herself that couldn’t possibly be the case, and no doubt the earl was simply being polite. Georgiana had often told her true gentlemen, like her fiancé Viscount Sterling and surely the Earl of Hastings, had exquisite manners.
