Page 29 of An Earl Like You
“Good morning, darling.” Rose tilted her head to receive his kiss on her cheek. “You’re up early.”
“I might say the same about you.” He regarded his sister with concern. “Is this healthy? I believed ladies avoided the morning sun for fear it would render them hopelessly unfashionable.”
Edith rolled her eyes and laughed. “We weren’t out late last night like you were, silly.”
Hugh had gone to Vega’s last night after leaving Thayne’s house, more out of habit than anything. Naturally his luck had returned and he walked out nearly three thousand pounds richer, now that he was within reach of almost twenty times that much. “As if I’ve got much choice! I hear nothing but shopping and ribbons and what Lady So-and-So wore to the ball last night.” He gave a mock shudder. “There’s too much talk of lace within these walls. It’s more than my brain can bear.”
Edith threw a pillow at him. “Your male brain is weak indeed!”
Hugh caught the pillow and grinned. “I’ve come to have a word with Mother, minx. I cannot handle speaking to two females at once, with my weak male brain.”
“Very well, I’ll go.” Edith collected her embroidery and rose. “Before I leave, I have a question for you, Hugh. Reggie has tried to call on you twice and you’ve been out both times. When shall I tell him you’ll be home so he can come again?”
Hugh had been deliberately avoiding Reginald Benwick. The young man had sent him two messages as well, pressing for a quick negotiation of the marriage settlements. He was unhappy with the Hastings solicitor, who was thankfully following orders to be as slow and unresponsive as possible. Hugh planned to put Benwick off for at least another fortnight.
“Reggie? Oh yes, young Benwick. I’ll see him at some point. I’ve been busy of late, Edith.”
Her brow creased in frustration. “But, Hugh—”
“Soon,” he said firmly. “Don’t pester.”
Edith turned to her mother for support, but Rose simply looked toward the door. “Your brother answered you, Edith.”
His sister’s eyes flashed with hurt, but she ducked her head. “Yes, Mama. It’s so hard to be patient, though.”
“Of course it is, when you’re in love,” said their mother affectionately. “You must endure.” Edith nodded and left, closing the door behind her. “Is there a reason you’re not anxious to settle things with Benwick?” his mother asked.
“I’ve not had time,” said Hugh in a voice that warned her not to pursue it. “I’ll deal with him soon enough. I need a favor, Mother.”
She was not pleased with his answer about Benwick, but her face softened at the request. “Of course, darling, anything.”
“Invite Elizabeth Cross to tea.”
“Who?” She inhaled sharply. “No—not Edward Cross’s daughter? You can’t be serious!”
“That’s the one, and I am perfectly serious.” He met her shocked gaze evenly. “Please.”
She jumped to her feet, wringing her hands. “No. No! You cannot mean it. I wondered, when you spoke so warmly of her the other day, but, Hugh—I warned you about getting attached unwisely—”
“Mother, I try not to impose on you often. I am asking this now, and I expect you to do it.” Hugh didn’t often exercise his authority as head of the family, but this time he had to. “Send the invitation today.”
Her mouth set mutinously. “I am not pleased.”
“Thank you, Mother.” He got up. “I do think you’ll like her. She’s a lovely girl, warm and kindhearted.”
“I don’t like this,” she warned him.
“Be gracious to her,” he said. “For me.”For all of us, he added in his mind.
She frowned but threw up one hand. “Very well.”
He got proof that she’d done it the next morning. Edith was pacing in the hall when he went down to set out for a morning ride. At his approach she ran forward and seized his arm. “Tell me it’s a lark!” He frowned and she squeezed tighter. “Eliza Cross. It’s a joke, isn’t it? You lost a wager, or—or—”
He walked into the morning room, his sister still clinging to him, and closed the door. “It’s not a joke, or a lark. What have you got against Miss Cross?”
“Besides the fact that she’s nobody, a plain little mouse who wouldn’t warrant a second look without an enormous dowry?” Edith’s face turned hard. “Her father is the greatest scoundrel in Britain, and you want Mama to serve her tea.”
“She is not her father.”
