A Lady's Guide to Fortune-Hunting(35)

The questions went on in much the same vein – enquiries about particulars he had never thought to pay attention to before, and very much wished never to have to think of again. He wondered vaguely where his sense of fight had disappeared to. It was as if all his energy had been sapped from him in the face of that notebook, and all he could do was watch with muted despair as his previously peaceful morning faded away. It was a relief when she snapped her notebook closed, but the ordeal was not quite over. She pulled from her bag a copy of La Belle Assemblée and presented him with a picture of a dress within it. ‘We were planning to wear something like this – does that suit?’

‘I believe so,’ he said helplessly.

‘Any faux pas that I should avoid?’

‘Many.’ His answer was now slightly muffled as his head was buried in his hands.

‘Care to mention one?’ she said tartly.

‘No,’ he said crossly. Kitty stood to make her leave, perceiving Radcliffe to have run out of patience, and wished him a sunny good morning that he did not return.

‘For God’s sake, go out the back door!’ he called at her back. But it was too late – she had already gone.

It took some time for Radcliffe to regain his equilibrium that day. He received no further visitors, thankfully, but the damage had been done. Rather than spending the day, as he had planned, seeing to his letters and penning instructions back to Radcliffe Hall regarding his imminent return, he instead spent several ill-at-ease hours ruminating over Miss Talbot’s effrontery, her impudence – her audacity. He almost wished she would return to the house so he could throw her out properly. Even by the time he retired to bed he was still vaguely fearful that he might wake again to the news of Miss Talbot’s presence in his home. Fortunately, he did not. Less fortunately, he woke to the news that his brother Archie was downstairs instead.

Archie was a little frustrated by how long it had taken to speak to Radcliffe on the matter of his betrothal. His last two attempts to call upon St James’s Place had been unsuccessful, and so he was now addressing himself to his brother days after he had originally planned. Of course, he did not technically need Radcliffe’s permission, certainly not once he had reached his majority in a few weeks, but that did not matter to Archie. Radcliffe was the head of the family now, and just as he would have asked his father’s blessing to propose, so now must he ask James’s. It was only right.

‘Archie, to what do I owe the pleasure?’ Radcliffe asked, suspecting very well what Archie was here to do.

Archie took a deep breath. ‘I wish to speak to you on a matter most important, my lord.’

Radcliffe suppressed a sigh.

‘Yes, Archie?’

‘If you will remember, I wrote to you – before you returned to London, that is – asking for your permission, your blessing rather, to speak to Miss Talbot seriously about my feelings for her.’ He took another breath. ‘My mind has not changed. And I should like to discuss—’

Radcliffe raised a hand, feeling the conversation would not benefit from Archie talking himself into a corner.

‘Archie, before you go any further, I must say – I do not think Miss Talbot is the right girl for you.’

This brought Archie up short. ‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘You can’t believe that tripe Mama once spouted about her being a fortune-hunter, can you?’

‘It has nothing to do with that,’ Radcliffe lied. He changed tack, perceiving that any slur to Miss Talbot’s blasted name would only inspire a courageous and infatuated defence.

‘It is just that I am not sure I understand the rush, Archie. It has only been weeks since you met Miss Talbot – is there anything so wrong about pursuing your friendship, for now?’

Archie felt that there was. Miss Talbot had certainly said there was, though he could not quite remember why, exactly. Something about a pear?

‘Well – I feel – that is to say, once one is in love, there is no need for delay.’ He was rather pleased by this statement – awfully good work on the hop.

Radcliffe hummed, unconvinced. ‘Be that as it may, you are still very young. Barely a man. There is time enough for marriage. You ought to be falling in and out of love a dozen more times before you fix a particular attention on one lady.’

His voice was affable, his words kind, but Archie bristled immediately.

‘I’m not a boy,’ he said hotly. As Radcliffe’s face did not shift from its expression of jovial elder, Archie’s temper built further. ‘Which you might know, if you’d spent any time with the family in the past few years!’

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Radcliffe’s eyebrows shot up and Archie regretted speaking so hastily. ‘S-sorry, didn’t mean it,’ he stammered out.

‘I was in the country for business, Archie,’ Radcliffe reminded him coolly.

Archie kicked at the edge of the rug with his toe. ‘Must have been a lot of business,’ he muttered, a little bitterly.

Radcliffe, for perhaps the twelfth time that week, cursed Miss Talbot to hell and damnation. His family had had none of these problems until she had started putting her waspish thoughts into their heads.

He raised up his hands in supplication. ‘I am not against the marriage out of hand, my boy. My only stipulation is that you see what the Season has to offer. If your attentions are still fixed upon Miss Talbot, and hers upon you, in a few weeks, then by all means let us discuss it again.’