“I’m about to complicate your life further, my lord.”
“I refuse to be presented at Court until autumn, Miss Brompton. Call me a coward, but my courage has its limits. Besides, Tavistock must be on hand to nanny me at any royal levee. If I’m to sport about in satin knee breeches, then he must as well. Only fair.” Trevor had promised to present him, and Trevor was preoccupied with being a newlywed, though that condition would likely persist for the next twenty years.
“Do you own satin knee breeches, my lord?”
From any other woman, Phillip was sure the question would have been scandalous. “I’m having the requisite articles made up. You sent orders, I followed them, and my exchequer will be considerably lighter as a consequence.”
“And you are working on your waltzing?”
What was she about? “Not until I master the rubbishing quadrille. I want to get the worst ordeal behind me.”
“I’m afraid the ordeals are only beginning, my lord. If you haven’t received it already, you will find in today’s post an invitation to a summer house party out in Hampshire. The Earl of Nunn is the nominal host.”
Phillip had done his homework, at least where Hecate Brompton was concerned. “He’s related to you, a cousin at some remove.”
“Second cousin, though everybody calls him Great-Uncle Nunn, or Uncle Nunn. Not a bad sort, but hands-off when it comes to his side of the family. Charles Brompton, another cousin of sorts, made the Marchioness of Tavistock’s acquaintance when she was plain Amaryllis DeWitt. Charles is hoping to mend fences with the marchioness by inviting you to the family seat.”
Phillip let Herne plod along on a loose rein. The horse was pouting—he did so treasure his mud puddles—while Hecate Brompton was executing a strategy of her own devising.
“How many lies did you just tell, Miss Brompton?”
He expected her to stiffen and descend into lecturing. Instead, she kept her gaze straight ahead. “No true bouncers, a few prevarications.”
“Are you feeding me to the lions so soon?”
“The Bromptons aren’t lions, though they fancy themselves as such. Charles is up to something, of that I have no doubt. Perhaps he wants to invest in Tavistock’s beer-making scheme, or he’s decided you should marry one of his sisters. I’m not entirely sure what’s afoot, but I’ve been managing the Bromptons for years. If you agree to attend, I’m fairly confident I can keep them from troubling you too sorely.”
“And if I refuse this gracious invitation from virtual strangers?” At least one of whom, Phillip suspected, had toyed with Amaryllis’s affections, if not her virtue.
“If you refuse, they will try again when the shooting starts in August, or they will mutter and whine about your rejection.”
“I’d best get it over with?”
She nodded, and that single, terse gesture yielded an insight. The Bromptons were relying on Hecate to get him to this house party. If he refused, their muttering and whining would be directed against her, the one family member he knew.
“I have two conditions,” Phillip said. “Well, three, though I assume you will attend for the duration?”
“I will.”
“Then my other two conditions are as follows: no quadrilles, and Mr. Gavin DeWitt will attend with me.”
“Miss DeWitt’s younger brother?”
“A lifelong friend, a gentleman, and an accomplished charmer. He’ll be a credit to the gathering.” Also a towering pain in the arse some of the time. Needs must.
Miss Brompton studied Phillip as the horses plodded along. “Mr. DeWitt will be a decoy, distracting everybody from your presence by spreading his peacock feathers at your command.”
“He’ll also be my second if I have to call this Charles Brompton out. I’d do so, Miss Brompton, not because your cousin offended the marchioness long ago. She has her own champion to fight that battle. I will call Brompton out if in any way he shows the least inclination to disrespect you.”
Miss Brompton gathered up her reins. “Violence is not on the list of entertainments I’m devising, I assure you. One other question: Why did the old marquess insist you be raised in obscurity?”
She’d been bound to ask, sooner or later, and yet, Phillip still wished she hadn’t. “Is that truly relevant?”
“The gossips will find it very relevant. Forewarned and all that.”
“I did not resemble the mardy old poltroon, and he used that evidence to question my patrimony. I was slow to speak, clumsy, and could play for hours with the simplest toys. Papa added mental deficiency to my store of sins and washed his hands of me.”
“You are not mentally deficient or noticeably clumsy, and you speak as well as any man, if a bit too honestly. Are you legitimate?”
“In the biological sense? Haven’t a clue, nor does any other living soul. I am legally legitimate. I am of a height with my brother, we have some mannerisms in common, and we seem to be in sympathy regarding our view of the world generally. Are you legitimate, Miss Brompton?”
He asked the question merely to be impertinent, but her posture acquired yet another increment of rectitude.
“That is nobody’s business. I wish you good morning. If you’d like to ride out again the day after tomorrow, I’ll acquaint you with some of the dramatis personae.”
He’d offended her, and that dimmed the very sun in the heavens. “Miss Brompton, I apologize. I meant no insult.”
“Until the day after tomorrow, my lord. Good day.”
She cantered off, her groom trailing a respectful half-dozen yards behind, and Phillip resisted the urge to call after her.
A pointless display, of course. Some varieties of loneliness admitted of no comfort, and it broke his heart that Miss Hecate Brompton suffered at least one of them.
Chapter Three
“A spare hiding in the shires.” Miss Betty Blanchard checked the strength of the tea. “How marvelous. One doesn’t envy Lord Phillip his patrimony, but the brother seemed a decent sort.”
The tea would be weak, no matter how generously Hecate had seen Miss Blanchard pensioned. “You know Lord Tavistock?”
“I’ve had occasion to observe him when he first abandoned university. Companions do a lot of observing and comparing notes on what we observe. Now tell me about this house party.”
How Hecate longed to pace, but Miss Blanchard’s parlor would allow for about three steps in any direction. And on three out of four walls, Hecate would be confronted with sketches of herself as a girl, then as a young woman. The fourth wall was reserved for Miss Blanchard’s regiment of nieces and nephews.
“If I’m to believe Eglantine,” Hecate said, “Charles was the inspiration for this disaster. He treated Lord Phillip’s sister-by-marriage ill when she made her come out, and I suppose Charles is trying to ingratiate himself with Lord Tavistock. If her ladyship ever gets to dredging up bad memories, Lord Phillip will be on hand to report that Brompton really isn’t a bad sort, and the family is very congenial.”
“Charles all but left Miss DeWitt standing at the altar.” Miss Blanchard poured two cups and stirred a drop of milk into Hecate’s. “She was better off without him, but then Charles became old Nunn’s heir, and I’m sure the lady knew a pang of envy.”