Page 7 of Long Live the Baron
Perhaps I should apply the philosophy of winning battles to the task of courtship, rather than the avoidance of such?
It was an interesting thought.
She was ensconced in the window seat of the drawing room. Her parents would be out until the morning, and after a Season of late nights, returning home at dawn, Lily knew she would not fall asleep until much later. The window allowed her to read without the oil lamps until sunset, at which time the servants had entered the room to light them up throughout the room. She had barely noticed, so engrossed in mentally translating the ideas from French, that the shift from sunset to night had passed her by.
Straightening up, Lily kneaded her neck, which had grown stiff from the position she was settled in. Peering out into the evening, she noted that the streetlamps were now lit, but the roadway was empty.
The carved ormolu clock over the mantelpiece chimed, methodically announcing the hour to be eleven o’clock. As the final chime died away, Lily heard carriage wheels striking the packed dirt of the road. She turned to watch with curiosity as a carriage bearing a coat of arms that was vaguely familiar entered the square, frowning when she observed it come to a stop in front of the Abbott townhouse.
Who could be visiting them, or rather her, at this hour without a prior invitation?
A footman scrambled down from the front and came around to open the door and lower the steps, before a polished Hessian boot emerged from the shadows inside the carriage. Soon buckskins were revealed, draped over the muscled thighs of a man, while Lily shook her head in amazement. Had she wished a gentleman into existence?
As she peered down, the lamp light revealed an unlikely person.
“It is Mr. Ridley,” she whispered to the empty drawing room. He would have no reason to visit her, despite how much she might desire such an outcome.
Mr. Ridley was tall. Not quite as tall as Aidan or her papa, but perhaps as much as a foot taller than herself. He had a healthy bronze tone to his skin, in her memory, at least, because the night did not reveal such a feature, and the chiseled face of a handsome aristocrat. But it was the glorious chestnut curls that framed his face that had captured her fancy the few times she had encountered him.
He had always been friendly and tolerant of her chatter, but she could not be certain if it was only because they shared a distant connection—his sister being married to the duke, who was cousin to the Earl of Saunton, who was married to Lily’s cousin, Sophia. Nevertheless, it did not signify because Mr. Ridley was obviously not on the marriage market, so he was not an option for her, no matter how intrigued she might be by the gentleman. This did not stop her from wondering if his mind was as fascinating as his person.
Lily had never found out because, despite the young man’s polite discourse in the few moments they had interacted, his attentions were reserved for more sophisticated women.
Widows.
Which might explain why he is here!
At this thought, Lily peered back down to find Mr. Ridley standing on the side of the road, his carriage drawing away. As she suspected, once the carriage departed, he turned and loped across the street toward Lady Slight’s home. Knocking on the door, while Lily wistfully watched and wished she could enjoy the courtship of such a man, he waited until the butler answered and stood back to let him in.
Sighing, she turned back to her book, pondering what it might be like to learn more about him. Was he as pleasant as his manner suggested? Did he think her a silly child, or would he recognize her as an eligible young lady, if he were marriage-minded?
She would probably never know. It was such a waste that someone so affable spent time with the viper, Lady Slight, who had angered her cousin with her attempts to interfere between Sophia’s brother-in-law, Perry, and the woman whom he had eventually married.
* * *
When Brendanfinally reached Harriet’s home, he was disappointed to learn she had not yet returned as promised. The butler did not bat an eyelid about letting a man in after he stated the widow was expecting him, showing Brendan upstairs to the first-floor rooms without comment.
In her personal drawing room, Brendan threw his gloves aside, then poured some wine and settled down in an armchair with his legs stretched out, to sip and stare into the empty fireplace. He placed the wine down on the end table next to the settee, thinking about how he had been up since very early morning and how carrying Ashby’s dead weight in order to ensure the lad’s safety had sapped his flagging energy. His lids slowly drifted shut and his thoughts faded to nothing as he fell sound asleep.
When Brendan came to, it was to the noisy arrival of Lady Harriet Slight returning home. Blinking rapidly, he swiped at his eyes with his fingertips, straightening up to the protest of his shoulder muscles. Groggy, he wondered how long he had been asleep. As Harriet ascended the steps, spouting instructions to her servants, a casement clock in the hall below announced the hour.
He tried to count the chimes, still bleary from being roused so suddenly from his slumber.
Was it four or five?Either of those would mean he needed to head home.Blast!
He rose to his feet as Harriet entered the drawing room, which led to her bedroom beyond. Coming to a stop, she stared at him, speechless for a moment while he drank her in.
Lady Slight, the widow of a decrepit viscount who had died within a mere couple of years of the union, was stunning. She had fiery red hair carefully set in ringlets around her face, but it was the low cut of her bodice that drew his appreciative gaze to the breasts threatening to spill out.
“Brendan! I quite forgot we made plans. I wound up at a soirée after the coronation.” Harriet giggled, making Brendan wonder if she was half-sprung from the evening’s entertainments. “Several soirées, if I am honest. I spent the evening conversing with the very best of society. I hope you found something to occupy yourself?”
Brendan suppressed his irritation. The widow was an entertaining partner for bed sport, but her inconstant behavior was not one of her charms. He appreciated why Perry had walked away from their dalliance without a backward glance.
Perhaps our time is drawing to a close?
The growing sense of ennui returned, a weighted cloak across his shoulders which made him wish he could sit back down on the settee and fall back to sleep. Then he remembered he had to see the baron this morning.
Not only was it time to leave, but finding a new paramour would be an inconvenience at the moment, so he should maintain this little understanding a while longer if he wished to have an escape from the Ridley townhouse. It was that or sleep at his clubs, but there would be no lush feminine body to warm his sheets if he chose the clubs.
