Aubrey had reason to appreciate Daphne’s advice as he stepped down from the carriage and mounted the stairs to Barbara’s home.
His mother had been stunned to see him home again with no warning, but when he asked for a certain address from her, she’d forgiven him entering her bedroom so early in the morning. Somehow, he didn’t think Barbara’s neighbors would have felt the same should he have banged doors up and down the street when the carriage first rumbled into London. He’d known the location of the Whitfeld town house generally, but not well enough to arrive here without assistance.
The knocker thudded against a solid door twice before Aubrey stood back, not wanting to appear rushed for all his blood sang with urgency. He’d rested both in the carriage and at his home, regaining more of his natural energy than he’d believed possible, or perhaps thoughts of Barbara gave him strength.
“Your card,” the butler said, holding out a silver tray on which lay two others.
Aubrey patted down his pockets in the vague hope his valet had tucked one into his waistcoat, but he came up empty handed. “I have none on me, but I didn’t intend to leave a card anyway. I’d like to speak to Lord Whitfeld.”
The butler’s eyebrows rose. “Lord Whitfeld is not receiving visitors yet.” He shook the plate as though to suggest Aubrey’s claim not to have a card on him a prevarication.
He’d come too far to turn away now, and no butler would block his path. Aubrey thought about pushing past the man, but remembered his lessons from the country. His first proposal had been to a farm girl. No matter that she turned out to be of high standing, he could not act the superior here and would not unless he had to.
“I understand the hour is early for London,” he said, “but I’ve come of late from the country where the sun seems to rise much earlier.”
A smile threatened to undercut the man’s severe expression, which Aubrey took as a good sign.
“It’s a matter of some urgency. It’s about his daughter.”
The butler frowned. “It’s always about Lady Barbara when they come calling so early,” he muttered as though talking to himself. “I guess you better come in then. His lordship is in his study.”
Aubrey offered his thanks with a smile even as he suppressed a sigh of relief that at least he wouldn’t be rousting her father from his rest. If Lord Whitfeld had discovered any portion of Barbara’s experience in the country, he’d need all the help he could get. Turning her father’s favor would be a big step toward that.
“My lord, you have a caller. It’s about Lady Barbara.”
Aubrey had not realized how his lack of card would make introductions awkward, but the butler acted as though lacking a name meant nothing.
“Aubrey St. Vincent,” he announced himself as he stepped through the opened door. “I’ve come to speak to you about your daughter.”
“You and half of society, the male half,” Lord Whitfeld said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Have your say and be done with it. I have work to do.”
“I wish to ask permission to marry Lady Barbara.” He carefully used proper address to prevent the appearance of impropriety. And they’d been well chaperoned on every encounter except the last.
Her father sighed, not quite the response he’d been expecting. “You are aware, I’m sure, of the number of suitors already declared for her. There’s little point in adding to the list, especially as she shows no inclination toward choosing a favorite.” His hands slapped the desk in front of him. “I pray you do not end up with daughters, but if you do, never give them their heads. Like barely broken stallions, they’d prefer to toss you off than carry you forward.”
Aubrey didn’t know what to say in response, though he understood the sentiment all too well from helping raise his two younger sisters.
Lord Whitfeld bit off a laugh. “Here I am speaking disparagingly of my very own flesh and blood though it be poorly done. And like the others, nothing I could say would dissuade you short of denying my permission.”
“With all due respect, Lord Whitfeld, I have a feeling Barbara would not let your permission stand in her way.”
The man’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “Barbara?”
Aubrey swallowed a curse at his mistake. “My apologies. When I met your daughter, the circumstances were a little less formal than here in London.”
Lord Whitfeld straightened and fixed Aubrey with an intent stare. “When you met her she wasn’t in London, and you come to me now.” He paused and his eyes narrowed. “You, sir, may just be the cause of my daughter’s change and not the change I’d been hoping for. She’s lost the frivolity, but returned disinterested in most everything. Not even her cousin can keep her spirits up for long.”
“I swear to you I did nothing to harm your daughter on purpose.”
Lord Whitfeld laughed. “I don’t suppose you’d be here if you had, young man. She mopes as though of a broken heart, and yet here you are, steadfast in your regard.”
“The situation is a bit more complicated than you might suppose,” Aubrey offered.
“With my Barbara, it usually is.” He looked about to chuckle then Lord Whitfeld froze and shoved to his feet to level a glare on Aubrey. “Have you compromised my daughter in these less formal circumstances?”
“Never.” The confidence in his tone stayed strong through the one word, but his thoughts wavered. Had she not broken away from him that last day, he might just have given in to his desires, thinking her no more than a country girl who had therefore not been as sheltered. Or more likely, thinking not at all. It burned him her station would have determined his behavior. No matter her willingness, he should have shown more restraint.
“Well, then what is it?” Lord Whitfeld demanded, drawing Aubrey back to the present and her impatient father.
“When I met your daughter, she was wearing worn clothing and working in the fields,” he began.
“I should have suspected Ferrier would do such a thing,” Lord Whitfeld interjected with no sign of distress.
“I mistook her for a country girl,” Aubrey continued, spilling out the whole story. He spared himself not one bit, recounting his ill-thought-out comments that unwittingly brought about a complicated scheme for revenge which rebounded on both of them.
Lord Whitfeld shook his head, but a smile played about his lips. “With the two of you having suffered so much in this affair already, and her mother and I as well, I should punish you both by denying you, but I will not be the one to hold you back.” He held up a hand when Aubrey went to rise. “You’ll have the devil of a time convincing Barbara all is well if I know my daughter, and from what you said of your injuries, you’ll need all the strength you can muster.”
He crossed to the bell, and the butler responded much too quickly to its ring. Aubrey wondered if curiosity made the man linger or if he’d expected to show Aubrey out bodily.
“Send word to my daughter her presence is wanted in my study at once. And have a tray sent here as well.”
Though too full of nerves to enjoy his breakfast, Aubrey had made sure to eat before coming to the town house. Still, he did not protest. Having something to do with his hands might be wise. From her father’s telling, the urge to shake some sense into her might overcome him.
When Lord Whitfeld turned to face him, Aubrey sought some form of conversation to pass the time, but his mind seemed blank.
Her father offered a stiff bow that ended with a wink. “It seems to me you’d do well with some time to gather your thoughts, and you have no need for further witnesses to this mess. You’ve likely given her cousins gossip fodder for some time to come. I’ll leave you to your speech planning, but remember while she may be headstrong, her heart’s a delicate instrument.”
With this warning, Lord Whitfeld quit the room.