| |
Joseph returned to his room to dress for dinner, his mood foul. Of all the people who might’ve been at the house party, that the very man he was quickly coming to view as an enemy had arrived seemed unbelievable.
He’d realized that anyone claiming to be overly religious struck a nerve with him. How could they not given his father’s actions during his childhood? The lectures insisting he was bound for hell for the smallest infraction. The days in his room with nothing to eat unless his mother managed to sneak him food.
But knowing that didn’t change his dislike of Reverend Henderson.
It had taken all of his reserve not to walk out of the billiard room the moment he’d seen him. Instead, he’d managed to make certain to be on the opposite side of the room no matter where the man was.
If Mr. Melbourne liked the reverend enough to invite him to his home, it would reflect poorly on Joseph to show his dislike of him. The man acted more like a lord than a man of the cloth. Perhaps there was a family connection. While he supposed Henderson might be considered charismatic by some, Joseph knew better from Henderson’s dealings with his father.
But he was a guest here just like the reverend. The last thing Joseph needed was a reason for Melbourne not to invest in his plan before he’d had the chance to propose it.
“What happened?” Charles asked after taking one look at his face.
“Reverend Henderson is here.”
The valet’s surprise made Joseph feel marginally better. “Why?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out. The way Melbourne greeted him, I’m inclined to believe they’re friends of a sort.”
Charles scoffed as he helped Joseph change. “In other words, the reverend is pretending to be nice in order to ask Mr. Melbourne for a donation to his church.”
Joseph shook his head. “I wonder if he shares the fact that he doesn’t use those funds to aid the less fortunate.”
“Surely people would ask before handing him money.”
“If a reverend asks for donations, one would assume it is going to a good cause. But from what I’ve learned from Henderson himself and my parents, I have my doubts. I want to know what he intends to do with the money that people like my father give him if it’s not to aid the poor.”
Henderson had told Joseph when they’d crossed paths outside Joseph’s parents’ house that he didn’t believe in helping the less fortunate. He insisted that Great Britain’s duty was to civilize other countries, and that meant the country’s population needed to be strong. Handing money to the weak didn’t aid that mission.
He shared a pointed look with Charles. “Clearly, the time has come to discover what we can about the man. See if you can learn anything from his servants.”
“Of course. My pleasure.” Charles assisted him into his evening coat.
“I will ask Melbourne’s son, Martin, about the reverend.” The memory of Miss Melbourne came to mind. “If he isn’t helpful, perhaps his daughter might be willing to share the details. She is the one who helped save my mother last week on Bond Street.”
“Ah.” Charles smiled. “The plot thickens.”
“Indeed.” Somehow, the thought of her eased his upset, a balm on his troubled mind. He still didn’t understand why he hadn’t remembered her when they’d been introduced. How long ago had that been? He must’ve been distracted then. Plus, he’d gone out of his way to avoid speaking overlong with eligible ladies since marriage wasn’t in his near future.
It was only in the past month that his idea for the investment opportunity had come to mind. Before that, men like Melbourne hadn’t been of special interest to him either.
“Surely, some of the other guests will see through Reverend Henderson’s façade and realize the truth,” Charles said as he adjusted Joseph’s tie.
“Considering that I’m still waiting for my father to recognize the truth, I remain doubtful.”
Charles shook his head. “The man must exude more charm than we’ve witnessed thus far.”
“Apparently so. I will do my best to hide my dislike and distrust of him from our hosts and the other guests. However, I fear I’ve already shown my cards to him. No doubt he’ll keep a watchful eye on me.”
“Amused disdain can be quite effective.”
Joseph chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. I rather hope he chooses to say something about his relationship with my father. I would welcome the chance to ask a few questions.”
“Especially in front of the other guests, eh?” Charles offered a satisfied smile. “I can only hope I am witness to that exchange.”
“I wouldn’t want to offend our hosts, but neither can I remain silent if the chance to share what I know arises. Perhaps Reverend Henderson will keep his unusual ideas to himself with me here.”
“There’s some satisfaction in knowing he must be as unhappy to see you as you are to see him.”
“True. Perhaps my presence will foil any hope he had for asking for donations.”
Charles stood back and studied Joseph’s black evening attire with a nod of approval. “I look forward to hearing how dinner goes. Meanwhile, I’ll see what I can discover below stairs.”
“Perfect.” Joseph nodded. He already felt better knowing they had a plan in place.
Charles leaned close as if to speak in confidence. “If I were you, I’d focus on Miss Melbourne rather than her brother. It sounds more enjoyable.”
Joseph smiled, appreciating the reminder. “I’ll see what I can do.” Hopefully, he’d have a chance to tell Mr. Melbourne how brave his daughter had been to save Joseph’s mother. There hadn’t been time earlier in the billiard room. Then again, he didn’t want to say too much about his mother and what might’ve caused her to step into traffic.
He made his way downstairs to the drawing room where the guests had been invited to gather before dinner and paused in the doorway, searching for a glimpse of pale hair.
To his delight, he saw her speaking with another young lady near her age with dark hair. Luckily, there was no sign of Reverend Henderson as of yet.
He moved slowly in their direction, not wanting to be too obvious.
“Garland,” Thomas Sinclair greeted him. “I didn’t have a chance to speak with you earlier. It’s been some time since we last spoke.”
Joseph shook his hand. “Indeed. I understand you’ve parted ways with the Royal Navy. It must be good to return home.”
“It is.” Sinclair smiled. “I confess that I still feel the ground moving beneath my feet after so many years on a ship.”
“I can only imagine.” They conversed for several minutes, but Joseph kept an eye on Miss Melbourne, hoping for a chance to speak with her. He managed to catch her eye and nod a greeting, which she returned with a smile that made her blue eyes look all the brighter.
Anticipation swirled through him after that moment of connection that had nothing to do with her last name. She was attractive and kind, something he knew beyond a doubt by the way she’d placed herself in danger to aid his mother.
When Sinclair stepped away to greet someone else, Joseph walked directly to her. “Good evening.”
“Viscount Garland.” She dipped her head in acknowledgement. “How nice to see you again.”
He glanced at the lady by her side whose face had turned red with what appeared to be embarrassment, though he didn’t know why.
Before he could inquire as to whether anything was amiss, she murmured, “Excuse me,” and took her leave.
“I hope I didn’t offend the lady,” Joseph began as he looked back at Miss Melbourne.
“I’m sure she’s fine.” Yet her worried look as she watched her former companion made him wonder.
“I wanted to thank you again for helping my mother last week.”
“I’m pleased I happened to see her. I hope she didn’t suffer any ill effects from the incident.”
“She’s well, thanks to you.” He shook his head. “I confess that I don’t understand why she wasn’t paying more attention.”
“Distractions seem to be part of the world now. But that carriage shouldn’t have been going so fast.” She glanced around the room. “Do you know the Melbournes well?”
He frowned at the oddly worded question. “Not well, though I look forward to becoming better acquainted.”
Before he could say anything more, they were called to dinner. He was paired with Miss Julia Frampton, whom he’d just met.
He was pleased to see Miss Melbourne’s friend had rejoined the party and was seated several places away. She seemed determined to avoid his gaze, but perhaps he was imagining that. She sat next to Mrs. Edwards, who was Mrs. Melbourne’s sister, according to his dinner companion.
The long dining room table held the thirty guests with ease. The meal of leek soup, roasted lamb, potatoes, and peas was delicious, and Miss Frampton was pleasant company even if she wasn’t as appealing as Miss Melbourne.
Unfortunately, he was too far away from Mr. Melbourne to hear much of his conversation. But he was pleased Reverend Henderson had also been placed well away from their host. Hopefully, that meant their association wasn’t a close one.
Miss Melbourne was seated on the opposite side of the table several guests away between Sinclair and Connolly. Far too frequently, Joseph caught himself watching her, enjoying her graceful gestures and kind smile. She seemed to be doing her best to converse with those around her, putting them at ease.
Once dinner was over, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, leaving the men to their port.
Joseph was content to listen. While he kept his gaze away from Reverend Henderson, he tried to hear what the man said. From what he heard the topics seemed to be mundane. Not once did he hear him mention his church or hint at the need for donations.
That only showed the man knew how to play his cards. Dinner wasn’t the proper time for financial discussions of any sort.
Then again Joseph would readily admit that he was doing the same thing, biding his time until the right moment came his way. However, he was offering an investment opportunity with the intent of creating wealth, whereas the reverend was only interested in taking what others were willing to give.
The situation would be different if he felt Henderson was truly making a difference in people’s lives. Based on what Joseph had learned about the man, he wasn’t. The poor and troubled weren’t part of his mission. Why his congregation, including Joseph’s father, agreed was concerning.
Joseph pushed away the thought as it only made him angry. A house party was not the time to dwell on his irritation with the reverend. But if given the chance, he would mention his concern to any who would listen in the coming days.
Soon, Mr. Melbourne rose and suggested they join the ladies.
Once again, Joseph entered the drawing room and found himself searching for Miss Melbourne. He saw her friend, who had seemed so shy and uncomfortable earlier. The lady stood beside Mrs. Melbourne. Odd, but the two of them looked as if they could be related.
An uncomfortable thought seeped into him as the memory of the pretty lady’s mother on Bond Street came to mind.
“Garland.” Martin Melbourne clapped his shoulder before Joseph could consider it further. “It appears as if charades are on the agenda for tomorrow afternoon. My mother has asked that I secure your agreement to join in the fun.”
“Charades?” Joseph didn’t especially care for those sorts of games, but what house party wasn’t complete without entertainment of some kind to keep the guests engaged? “I suppose, but only if you are as well.”
Martin laughed. “My wife and I will be there lest my mother disown us.” He glanced behind Joseph. “Have you met Lady Harriet?”
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Joseph said only to turn to see his mother’s rescuer, whom he thought to be Miss Melbourne, standing there.
When he’d asked the butler her identity, there had been two ladies in view, but Joseph’s focus had been solely on Lady Harriet. Clearly, the butler had only noticed Miss Melbourne.
He nearly groaned at the realization that he’d mistaken her name even as he bowed.
~*~
HARRIET’S FACE HEATED as she caught Viscount Garland’s words. She hardly knew what to say, especially when hurt speared through her. Did he still truly not know who she was?
While she wasn’t as painfully shy as Frances, neither was she that sociable compared to some of her friends. Especially not after all that had happened in the past few years. Those experiences had taught her to be cautious.
She couldn’t stop from running a finger over the lace insert of her gown that hid the scars on her chest. They tended to itch when she was embarrassed or distressed.
Yet what could she do but smile and act as if it was of no consequence that the gentleman for whom she held a secret tendre didn’t know her name even after she’d saved his mother from injury? That he didn’t remember being introduced to her. Twice. That he obviously didn’t feel any of what she felt for him.
While he’d acted pleased to see her, obviously that had only been because he was being polite.
The realization was lowering and squeezed her heart. Thank goodness she hadn’t managed to volunteer to be the next league member to make a bold move. At this point, getting him to know her name was as much as she could accomplish.
The viscount closed his eyes briefly and then looked at her with an apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry. I had you confused with another.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Frances stood next to her mother.
Frances noted his look and her cheeks turned pink once again.
A sinking feeling caught Harriet as she saw her friend’s expression. Surely, she had to be wrong.
“You must meet my sister as well.” Martin waved toward Frances. It took a nudge from her mother to make Frances join them, her gaze fixed on the ground.
“Viscount Garland,” Martin said as he began introductions, “may I introduce my sister, Frances.”
“It’s a pleasure, miss,” Garland said as he bowed. “I fear I had the two of you confused. I’m so sorry.”
Frances dipped into a curtsy and sent a pointed look at Harriet that pleaded for help.
Please let me be wrong. Still, Harriet smiled as she moved closer to Frances. “We are often together as we are the dearest of friends,” she told the viscount. “It’s no wonder if you confused us for one another.”
“My apologies to you both.” Garland truly looked upset, which eased some of Harriet’s hurt.
His remorse was rather sweet. But the way Frances watched him so attentively from beneath her lashes left no doubt that she liked him. He had to be the one with whom she wanted Harriet’s help.
If only Frances would’ve shared who she admired beforehand, perhaps Harriet could’ve explained why she couldn’t be of assistance. Yet what could she have said? I’m sorry, but I like him, too?
What a terrible tangle this was.
How should she proceed? Did she tell Frances of her feelings? It seemed silly to say anything now that she realized how little of an impression she’d made on Viscount Garland from their first introduction to now.
Martin stepped into the conversation void, explaining that he knew Garland from university although they’d been a few years apart. They also belonged to the same club and crossed paths there occasionally.
Harriet glanced at Frances, willing her to join the discussion. This was her chance to get to know Garland and to allow him to come to know her.
Yet Frances looked like a doe caught in a field by an angry farmer, all wide eyes and stiff body. While she no longer stared at the ground, she was now blinking an alarming amount.
Martin frowned at his sister as if wondering what was wrong.
Before her brother could potentially embarrass her, Harriet smiled. “How nice that the two of you are acquainted with one another.” She managed to nudge Frances, hoping her friend took the hint.
“Harriet and I belong to the same club as well, but it’s a book club.” Frances’ words came out in a rush. “The Mayfair Literary League.”
Garland frowned. “That sounds familiar.”
Harriet nearly groaned. Of all things for Frances to say, that wasn’t a good choice. The two gossipy sisters, Lady Lucinda and Lady Jane, had done their best to spread the news of the league’s For Better or Worse agenda.
If Garland had heard of it, he wouldn’t want anything to do with either of them for fear they intended to trap him into marriage. The sisters had cast it in a poor light.
“Since you’re acquainted with Captain Shaw and the Earl of Bolton, they may have mentioned it as their brides are members as well,” Harriet said, hoping that might be the reason he remembered it.
Garland nodded. “That must be why it’s familiar.” He smiled at them both. “What kind of books do you enjoy reading?”
Harriet held back, hoping Frances would answer but was ready to help her if necessary.
“Pride and Prejudice is one of our favorites,” Frances said only to frown as if wishing she could take back her answer. “But we read a variety.” She glanced at Harriet with a hint of panic in her brown eyes.
“A wide variety,” Harriet agreed. “The Seven Curses of London, for example. Have you by chance read it? The author shares what he considers to be the seven worst problems that plague London.”
“Someone else mentioned it to me, but I haven’t yet taken the time to read it,” Garland said.
“But you do like to read?” Harriet asked, unable to help herself. She almost wished he’d say no. That would give her a reason not to admire him as much as she did.
Then again, as she stared into his hazel eyes with their long, dark lashes, she wondered if that were true. What was it about him that caused this breathless feeling, or the way her heart sped when he was near?
She’d met several other gentlemen this evening. Mr. Sinclair and Mr. Connolly had both been very kind at dinner, and she’d enjoyed their conversation. But she hadn’t experienced any of the physical symptoms she did with Viscount Garland.
“Very much,” the viscount said. “Charles Dickens is one of my favorite authors.”
Harriet’s heart melted a little bit more. “He’s one of mine, too,” she murmured only to wish she hadn’t said anything when Frances frowned at her.
“I like him as well,” Frances said. “Oliver Twist and A Christmas Carol are wonderful stories.”
“They are indeed.” Viscount Garland nodded in approval.
“I wish I read more,” Martin added, looking rather bored by this turn in the conversation. “The news sheet doesn’t count, I suppose. Anything else tends to put me to sleep.”
“I’ve heard that means you simply haven’t found the right book to interest you,” Garland said. “I’m certain these two ladies would be able to recommend a few for you to try.”
“Perhaps.” Martin shook his head, seeming unconvinced. “But not until after the house party. There will be little time for reading during the days ahead.”
Harriet had to bite her lip to refrain from disagreeing. She found time to read every day, even if it was only for a few minutes. But she knew from experience that her liking to do so wasn’t anything to share with others. Bookish ladies were unappealing to many.
Martin looked at Frances. “I mentioned to Garland that Mother wants to play charades tomorrow afternoon.”
“I do hope you’ll join us,” Frances said with a warm smile.
Harriet couldn’t have been prouder even as her heart ached. All Frances needed to do was relax and be herself. Any gentleman worth his salt would enjoy being with her.
“Martin has agreed to be there, so I will as well.” Garland grinned at Martin as if to make certain he didn’t forget.
“We’re hosting a ball later in the week,” Frances advised, a hint of color coming to her cheeks as she glanced again at the viscount.
Harriet released a quiet sigh as longing filled her. Would she have the chance to dance with Garland? Or should she keep her distance out of loyalty to Frances?
Suddenly, the week stretched out ahead of her, seeming endless. What little hope she’d held when she’d first caught sight of him in the billiard room drained away, leaving her empty. Yet she need only look at Frances’ smile to be reminded how important her friendship was.
How unfortunate that honoring their relationship meant holding back on her own dream. Still, she smiled in encouragement at Frances even as she tried not to look at Viscount Garland, telling her heart to hush.
