His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen #4)(13)

As were his own needs.

“My first marriage was bearable. Unlike Lily Ferguson, her ladyship never outgrew a penchant for dramatics and mischief. I’ll choose more wisely this time, and then you—”

One of the young men had detached himself from the rest of the raucous group doing justice to the club’s selection of spirits.

“Grampion, Sir Worth. Good evening.”

“Islington.” Worth spared the fellow a nod.

Islington had come down from university five or six years ago and thus considered himself quite the rake about Town. His blond hair was done in an elaborate Brutus, and his cravat had likely taken half the afternoon to tie. Neither affectation hid the fact that his waistcoat strained at every button, and his breath would have felled an elephant at forty paces.

“Noticed Grampion riding out with the Ferguson chit the other morning.”

Lily Ferguson was not a chit. “The park is lovely this time of year, and Miss Ferguson is excellent company.”

Islington remained by the table.

Hess sent Worth a look. Invite him to sit, and I shall kill you slowly and without remorse. Worth busied himself pouring exactly the same measure of wine into both glasses.

Islington grasped his lapels. “Excellent company, yes. Well. Others have thought the same. You’re new to Town, and Lily Ferguson isn’t. New to Town. You see.” He winked, or perhaps an insect had flown into his eye.

Worth cleared his throat.

“I’m not sure I take your meaning,” Hessian said, “me being new to Town and all.”

Islington leaned closer, bringing with him the stench of prolonged overimbibing. “The damned girl looks well enough, and she’s bound to have decent settlements and all, but she’s much too outspoken. Much. One of them unnatural daughters of Sappho, if you take my meaning. You’ll want to look elsewhere, whether you’re thinking to marry or otherwise keep company with the lady.”

He winked again.

Lily was honest and sensible, and among people suffering a paucity of useful ambitions, this was the thanks she got. Gossip from fools, probably years after she’d offered some buffoon a set-down for leering at her bodice.

Hessian rose, and Worth set the wine bottle on the opposite side of the table.

“Islington, you accurately perceive that I am the veriest bumpkin of an earl. I do so love my acres up in Cumberland.”

“Pretty place, Cumberland, so I’m told. Don’t think I’d care for it.”

The group across the room had fallen silent, as had the several other tables of diners in the room. That was fine. Good, in fact, for what Hessian had to say was not private.

“The benefit of all the ruralizing I’ve done is that I spend many a morning tramping about with my fowling piece, and I feel it only fair to warn you, I am a dead shot.”

“Dead shot,” Worth echoed. “I’ve never seen Grampion miss a target when sober, and his lordship is always sober.”

In fact, Worth hadn’t seen Hessian so much as lift a firearm in the past ten years, much less take aim at a hapless pheasant going about its avian business.

“I’m sober now too,” Hessian said, “while you must be given the benefit of gentlemanly tolerance, considering how assiduously you’ve been at the spirits.”

“Doesn’t do to remain sober after sundown.” Islington’s confreres hooted their agreement with that profundity.

“Doesn’t do to malign a lady’s good name either,” Hessian said. “Particularly when she’s not on hand to defend herself against the charges.”

The hooting stopped, but Hessian wasn’t finished. “In fact, Islington, were you not half seas over, I’d offer you a demonstration of my accuracy with a firearm on the field of honor. Lily Ferguson is a lady, and if dunderheaded young men speak out of turn within her hearing, then I applaud her for calling such specimens to account. How else will they mend their ungentlemanly ways before more serious harm is done?”

“Serious harm?”

The last word had come out on a gratifying, if malodorous, squeak.

“I’m glad you take my point. Perhaps a bit of fresh air will help clear your head. We wouldn’t want your drunken maunderings to give anybody reason to take offense.”

Hessian remained on his feet, several inches taller than Islington and years more willing to put his fists where his honor lay.

Worth made a little shooing motion with his hand.

Islington backed away from the table, until he bumped into the next table, which was empty. He turned and strode from the room, his friends watching his departure in silence.

“Well done.” Worth saluted with his wineglass. “The boy needed a talking-to.”

Hessian resumed his seat. “He’s not a boy, and if he gossips about decent young women, he’s not a gentleman either.”

“So,” Worth said, placing the wine bottle by Hess’s elbow. “Tell me about Lily Ferguson and this little ride in the park.”

To discuss the situation with Worth was a curious relief. “Lily Ferguson is kind, honest, and practical. She’s taken an interest in Daisy, and I account Miss Ferguson a friend.”

Worth frowned at the remains of his brother’s steak. “Papa knew her Uncle, as I recall, and I have vague memories of teasing her in the park as a boy. Is she pretty?”