Page 26 of Long Live the Baron
With that, Lily turned and strode away. At least she hoped she was striding, and not merely running off like a silly girl, because inside, her heart was cracking into a thousand pieces and her pride was all she had to defend herself from the onslaught of pain. She wondered if visiting the Continent would soothe the tempest in her soul, or would she forever mourn the marriage she would never attain now that her reputation was ruined and Mr. Ridley had disappointed her hopes.
Exiting, she shut the door on Mr. Ridley, and the past, before heading for her bedroom.
She and Nancy would need to pack her things, because she had a long journey to prepare for. She must leave as soon as possible so she would not have to witness Mama suffering, and healing for all could begin.
CHAPTER7
“Confront them with annihilation, and they will then survive; plunge them into a deadly situation, and they will then live. When people fall into danger, they are then able to strive for victory.”
Sun Tzu, L’Art de la Guerre (The Art of War)
* * *
Brendan stood in the street, his head reeling. He suspected that he might have handled the situation with Miss Abbott in a less than exemplary manner. Raising his hand, he rubbed his temple once again, attempting to alleviate the tension that had built and built over the past few days.
He had barely had time to be relieved that he was not being arrested before the next crisis had presented itself. The earl was livid about Miss Abbott, presumably because his countess would be distraught at the news regarding her cousin.
The young lady’s act had been so generous, so unprecedented, he simply could not believe it had been altruistic. Unfortunately, revealing his sentiments had brought her to tears, and Brendan was fighting off gut-wrenching shame for mishandling the discussion. Even if she had plotted to trap him, she was just a child. She barely looked old enough to be out of the schoolroom, and perhaps she had had grand ideas of marrying a baron.
His head throbbed, a stray thought bouncing around his skull. Miss Abbott must be older than she looked, because he seemed to recollect that he had been introduced to her the prior year. In her lacy dress, and her girlish ringlets, he could have sworn she was not old enough to be having a Season. But if he recollected their first meeting accurately, the young lady would be on at least her second Season, which simply was not possible. That would make her almost of an age with Lady Saunton, but she barely came up to his chest. He could not even ascertain if she had curves in the flouncy gowns she seemed to favor wearing.
Perhaps Lady Moreland had brought Miss Abbott out early?
Squinting against the bright sunlight, Brendan’s vision was blurry from the pain in his head. He had sent the carriage away, requesting it return after an hour, because he thought he would be negotiating a marriage contract with Lord Moreland. His options were to walk home, or …
Or to visit Lady Slight until my carriage returns.
Brendan did not think it was a good idea, especially in sight of the Abbotts’ townhouse, but he felt quite unsettled about the past few days and he could not suppress the urge to call on the widow.
Before he knew it, his feet were moving across the street and his hand was raising the brass ring to knock. Matters felt incomplete with Harriet somehow, and he wanted to resolve their relationship.
When the butler opened the door, his eyes flared ever so slightly in surprise. Brendan knew it was unseemly to visit the widow in broad daylight, but he could not find the will to care about being proper.
“Lady Slight,” he asserted.
The butler hesitated, but acquiesced and opened the door wider to allow him entry. Probably the servant thought it better to allow him in quickly rather than have a gentleman loitering on the front step. Once in, the older man led him toward the painted room. The drawing room was Harriet’s favorite, most likely because she knew it exhibited her in the best light—a beautiful woman seated in a beautiful room.
Somehow this thought caused a slight irritation, reminding him that he had been contemplating ending their arrangement. The viscountess was far too enamored with her own appearance, posing frequently in a manner that suggested she had practiced her nonchalant gestures in front of a mirror. A gilded mirror.
The butler knocked on the door, then entered the drawing room to announce Brendan’s arrival. Following him into the room, Brendan stopped and took in the perfection of his redheaded paramour, attired in silk with her bosom revealed in eye-popping proportions, surrounded by her room of intricate painting. On her left, a naked Venus frolicked with several cherubs in a large oil painting, mirroring the impressive bosom of the painting’s owner.
“Brendan! It is so lovely to see you. I was not sure if I would see you again.”
He arched an eyebrow in question.
“I heard you might be arrested,” she offered as an explanation.
Brendan frowned. “That littleon-ditspread rather quickly?”
Harriet waved her hand. “I heard about it from the oddest little chit who came to call on me. Can you believe she demanded I reveal your whereabouts—she even threatened me!”
His pounding headache vanished in an instant, and Brendan took an involuntary step forward.
“Whom do you mean?”
Harriet giggled, fluttering a hand toward the window. “Lord Moreland’s daughter … or niece … or something or other. From across the street. The little hoyden tried to intimidate me, but she was barely larger than a squirrel and I set her in her place. As if anyone would believe a child over the word of an established widow of an important viscount.”
Miss Abbott had tried to convince Harriet to assist him?
