Page 12 of Romancing the Rifleman
But when he looked up, Edward was peering at him with a sad sort of bewilderment.“I don’t find the notion ridiculous at all,” he said softly.
Of course, he didn’t.Because that was Edward.He persisted in believing the best of everyone, and, in spite of his outsized intelligence, seemed to have a particular blind spot when it came to his brother’s many flaws.
“You should have seen the disaster I almost got into,” Harrington said.“Lord Kinwood asked to speak to me.”
Edward frowned.“He’s pushing a canal scheme that’s?—”
“Entirely self-serving,” Harrington supplied.“I was fortunate enough to bump into Lady Diana Latimer just before I spoke to him.She warned me.”
“Then you told him you wouldn’t support it?”At Harrington’s nod, Edward brightened.“See?You did splendidly.”
“Only because Lady Diana spoon-fed me the facts I needed to counter his arguments.On my own, I would have fallen for it.”
Edward shook his head.“You’re being too severe on yourself.You’ve been out of the country.Of course, you haven’t been able to stay abreast of every petty domestic squabble.Now that you’re back, I daresay you’ll get up to speed more quickly than you think.”
Harrington stared listlessly across the room.“I very much doubt it.I’m going to be awful at this.What was Father thinking?”
Edward’s blue eyes were sincere.“You have positive qualities that you fail to appreciate.You’re persuasive.Charismatic.And you’re damn good at arguing a point.”He gave a humorless laugh.“I just wish the point you were trying to argue wasn’t what a failure you are.”
“Yes.Well.”Harrington put his hands on his thighs and pushed up to standing.“I suppose we’ll see which of us is right.”
Edward rose as well.“Me, of course.I’m always right.”He grinned.“It’s one of my most annoying qualities.”
Harrington couldn’t help but laugh.“Well, I hope I’m not the exception to your rule.”
They returned to the ballroom together.A quadrille had just concluded, and Edward wandered off to find his next partner.Across the ballroom, Harrington spied Lady Diana making her way back to her great-aunt Griselda, who served as her chaperone.
Harrington hurried across the ballroom.Spying him, Diana cast him an expectant look.He gave her a small nod, trying to signal that everything was all right, then bowed over her hand.“Lady Diana, might I have the pleasure of the next dance?”
A dark, familiar voice came from just over Harrington’s shoulder.“Her dance card is full.”
Harrington turned to regard Diana’s older brother, Marcus Latimer, the Duke of Trevissick.Harrington gave him a tight smile, which Marcus returned with a glower that could have curdled milk.Honestly, Harrington didn’t blame him.Trevissick was good friends with Edward, and they had all been at Eton together.Harrington had been, for lack of a better term, a little shit.Whether it was nicking Trevissick’s trousers and flying them from the flagpole or coating the soles of his boots in lard, hardly a week had gone by without Harrington pulling some sort of prank on the golden, perfect duke.
He really should apologize.And he would.
Just as soon as Trevissick would consent to speak with him for forty-five consecutive seconds, an event that it looked like would be taking place when hell froze over.
Another man came up and joined them.It proved to be Archibald Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy, better known as Thorpe, who was married to Harrington’s younger sister, Izzie.
Thorpe inclined his head.“I have the next dance, but I would be happy to yield it.”He gave a self-deprecating smile.“I feel quite certain that Lady Diana would rather dance with a dashing officer than a boring fellow like me.”
“She would not,” Trevissick said, seizing his sister’s hand and placing it on Thorpe’s arm.
Diana cast a poisonous glare at her brother.It was hardly the first time Marcus behaved in an overbearing manner when it came to what he perceived to be her best interests.
Nor, she felt quite certain, would it be the last.
“Perhaps,” she said through clenched teeth, “you could allow me to manage my own dance card.”
“Perhaps not,” Marcus replied, glaring at Harrington.
Diana switched to Low German so they would not be overheard.“Marcus!”she hissed.“Stop acting like an arse.”
He deigned to look at her, narrowing his eyes.“It is my duty as your brother to protect you,” he replied in the same language.
Someone gave a not-very-ladylike snort.“Protect her,” Aunt Griselda said, strolling over.“My Diana does not need your protection.I have raised her better than that.”
Diana smiled at her aunt.Truly, she had done just that.Under Aunt Griselda’s tutelage, Diana had learned not just to fence and shoot but to speak up for herself.Valuable lessons, indeed.
