His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen #4)(70)

Hessian had devised this scheme before he’d left Lily the previous evening. She was to pay a call on her ladyship, while Hessian would find a discreet way to approach the earl. Rosecroft and his countess would make formidable go-betweens, because Uncle Walter would not dare restrict Lily’s access to them, or theirs to her.

Thank heavens, Hessian had been capable of thinking.

Oscar examined his teeth in the mirror over the sideboard. “Her ladyship is blond, curvaceous, has an unmistakable northern accent? I don’t think she cares for me.”

“If that’s all you noticed about her, then you doubtless failed to impress her. You look fine, Oscar.”

He tapped his top hat onto this head, then adjusted the angle. “Fine isn’t good enough. I must look my best if I’m to make an impression as your devoted cousin. Sir Worth Kettering was impressed. I certainly made a proper fuss over his stinking dog. I hope Rosecroft hasn’t any dogs. Canines are not supposed to be underfoot when one is entertaining callers.”

He left off adjusting his hat, his cravat pin, his gloves, and his watch chain to offer Lily his arm.

“Rosecroft’s hound is twice the size of Worth Kettering’s,” Lily said. “The dog is devoted to Bronwyn.”

Coach wheels and shod hooves sounded on the cobbles out front, and the butler opened the door.

“Do I devote myself to the child or to the dog?” Oscar asked.

If Hessian could not foil Uncle Walter’s schemes, Lily might be sentenced to thirty more years of Oscar’s hopeless self-interest.

She took her cousin’s arm. “You make much of the dog. Bronwyn, like her parents, does not suffer fools, while Scout’s nature is tolerant.”

Oscar needed a moment to comprehend the insult, but he smiled as he handed Lily into the coach. “Very clever.” He settled beside her on the forward-facing seat, something he would not have done even a week ago. “Is my doting convincing? Papa lurks in his study, peering out of windows at the most inconvenient times.”

Uncle’s study was the only room in the house to have a view of both the back garden and the front walkway. Lily had noticed this within a week of joining his residence.

“Your doting is convincing. I wish you wouldn’t.”

He patted her hand, and Lily nearly bolted from the coach. “No need to thank me. I’m not awful, you know.”

Yes, you are. “You are also not the husband I’d choose for myself.”

“You think I want a tart-tongued woman five years my senior for a bride? That reminds me, what did the Braithwaite creature want? She’s called on you twice now in the space of a week. Papa says she was a friend of your mother’s, but what sort of friend waits years to pay a condolence call?”

Hessian had warned Lily not to underestimate Oscar—he was his father’s son, after all. “If she should call again while I’m out, please do not receive her. She claims to have letters my mother wrote, and I suspect she wants me to pay her for them.”

Oscar left off fussing with his sleeve button. “Enterprising of her. Are these scandalous letters? Was your mother propositioning another woman in writing? How naughty.”

I shall go mad within the week. “I haven’t spoken with Mrs. Braithwaite enough to know the nature of the correspondence, but I will entrust resolution of her concerns to you, should you become my husband.”

“That’s the spirit,” Oscar said, patting Lily’s hand again. “Man and wife, wedded and bedded. Shall we pay a call on Mrs. Braithwaite as a couple?”

How long could one coach ride be? “Uncle has warned me not to allow a connection with her. He says she’s not good ton.”

“Does that mean she’s a bit too merry? I fancy a merry widow, though—”

Lily yanked the shade down. “Oscar, you will recall, at all times, in all places, that I am a lady. Your vulgar observations are inappropriate.”

He tried for a laugh. Lily ignored him, and at long last, he fell silent. The absence of grating chatter probably meant he was brooding over how to use Mrs. Braithwaite’s threats to his own advantage.

“Mrs. Braithwaite expected me to marry the Earl of Grampion,” Lily said. “I was to encourage him to place his ward in Mrs. Braithwaite’s household, for the girl is her niece.”

“What widow in her right mind would willingly—? Oh, Grampion has money. Of course. Well, you won’t be marrying him.”

“It’s not as if Grampion has offered for me.” Though he had, and last night he’d withdrawn his offer, in so many words.

Of all the frustrations and sorrows burdening Lily’s heart, that one was the heaviest. Grampion was behaving honorably, aiding a damsel in a mess, but he’d been very plainspoken on the topic of marriage to her.

A peer’s marriage must be free of any hint of irregularity. Lily had been spinning ignorant fancies to expect anything else.

“Here we are.” Oscar peered out the window at Rosecroft’s town house, a modest dwelling on a peaceful side street. His lordship had doubtless chosen the property for two reasons. It was close to the homes of his parents and siblings, and its stables were large and commodious for a Town residence.

“Rosecroft is horse-mad,” Lily said as the footman lowered the steps.

“Everybody knows that.” Oscar preceded her from the coach and offered her his hand. “They’re expecting us?”