His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen #4)(2)
No help there, for Hessian would not inflict on a small child the company of a woman he’d taken into dislike within five minutes of bowing over her hand.
The dog gamboled ahead to have a drink from a fountain in the back corner of the garden. Hess’s own canine had remained in Cumberland, and though he’d had the beast five years and more, he couldn’t muster any longing for its company.
“Not only will Mrs. Braithwaite not serve,” Worth said, picking up a stick and tossing it over the dog’s head, “but the will awards you guardianship of these children. They can visit wherever you please, and the boys will doubtless spend much of the year at public school, but you have sole authority over them and their funds.”
Hessian raised his niece above his head for the sheer pleasure of seeing her smile.
“Drop her and I will kill you, Hessian, assuming Jacaranda doesn’t beat me to it.”
Hessian gently lowered the baby, who was grinning and waving her arms madly. “Your papa is a grouch. When he won’t let you have a pony, you tell your dear Uncle Hessian, and I’ll buy you an entire team and a puppy.”
“Casriel already promised her a pony,” Worth said.
Casriel, as in the Earl of, was Jacaranda’s oldest brother. Hessian occasionally played cards with him when they were both of a mind to dodge the matchmakers.
“Then Casriel will have to un-promise her. I’m her godfather, and that means—Worth Kettering, you have become positively possessive.”
Worth had plucked the baby from Hessian’s arms. “Need I remind you, Jacaranda has seven brothers, and at least half of them come around at regular intervals and appropriate my daughter’s company without any heed for the child’s papa. Hadn’t you better run along, Hess?”
“You’re my man of business, and that means you have to put up with me. Why should I run along?”
The dog was in the fountain now, happily splashing about and creating a great ruckus.
“You should run along because your youngest ward is soon to arrive at your town house, and it’s only fair that you give your staff some notice.”
Worth’s sense of humor was unique—very unique. “The Evers estate is in Cumberland. Why should a small child be dragged the length of the realm for the pleasure of being sent right back north where she belongs?”
“You’re her guardian, and thus she belongs in your care. That’s what the Evers solicitors said, in any case, but I suspect the staff in Cumberland simply wanted to be free of the little dear at the earliest opportunity. Andromeda, come!”
Hessian stepped back, because only an idiot failed to take into account that wet dogs—
“Damn and blast,” Worth bellowed as the dog shook violently, sending water in all directions. The baby began to cry, the dog whined, and for those reasons—not because of a poor jest about a small child invading the Grampion town house—Hessian made his exit through the garden’s back gate.
*
Lily Ferguson’s finishing governess had warned her that a young lady must appear pleasantly fascinated with scandals and engagement announcements, no matter that they bored her silly. Lily was rumored to be an heiress and her late mama had married into a ducal family—albeit an Irish ducal family—and thus Lily was doomed to make up the numbers when prettier, more vivacious women were unavailable.
“Aspic and small talk,” Lily muttered.
They were equally disagreeable. Fortunately, the Earl of Grampion’s dinner party was lively and the general conversation loud enough to hide Lily’s grousing.
“I beg your pardon, my dear?” Neville, Lord Stemberger, asked. Because his lordship apparently longed for an early death, he leaned closer to Lily’s bosom to pose his question.
At the head of the table, a footman whispered in Lord Grampion’s ear. The earl was a titled bachelor with vast estates in the north. Thus, his invitations were coveted by the matchmakers.
Then too, he was attractive. On the tall side, with blond hair that had a tendency to wave, blue eyes worthy of a Yorkshire summer sky, and features reminiscent of a plundering Norseman. Strikingly masculine, rather than handsome.
Perhaps he had bad teeth, for the man never smiled. Lily would ask Tippy for details regarding the Kettering family, for Tippy studied both Debrett’s and the tattlers religiously.
Lily had found Grampion a trifle disappointing when they’d been introduced. His bow had been correct, his civilities just that—not a spark of mischief, not a hint of warmth in his expression. Many handsome men were dull company, their looks excusing them from the effort to be interesting, much less charming.
Lily’s musings were interrupted by the sensation of a bug crawling on her flesh. Lord Stemberger’s pudgy fingers rested on her forearm, and he remained bent close to her as if entirely unaware of his own presumption.
At the head of the table, Grampion rose and bowed to the guests on either side of him, then withdrew.
Excellent suggestion.
Lily draped her serviette on the table. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord. I’ll return in a moment.” Thirty minutes ought to suffice to fascinate Lord Stemberger with some other pair of breasts.
She pushed her chair back, and Lord Stemberger, as well as the fellow on her right, half rose as she departed. So polite of them, when they weren’t ogling the nearest young lady or her settlements. Across the table and up several seats, Uncle Walter appeared engrossed in an anecdote told by the woman to his right.