The Earl Steals a Heart

CHAPTER4

Neville could not stop sketchingMiss Wingfield to save his life. Her face and form were irrevocably burned into his mind, and the idea he had for a portrait of her simply would not let him be. He hated himself for not being able to resist the urge to capture her beauty, despite his anger at her betrothal to the Count D’Asti.

Why had her father never told her of the promise of marriage to the Italian Count? More than that, why bother promising your second daughter to someone when you had an elder daughter who should have been promised in marriage first? It made no sense, which only served to frustrate Neville further.

He was sketching furiously, lost in his turbulent thoughts, when his butler, Stephens, knocked and entered the study.

“You have visitors, Lord Seabury.”

Neville looked up from his sketches with a frown.

“Who?”

Stephens proffered the calling cards, even as he spoke.

“Lord and Lady Middlebrook, and their daughter Lady Henrietta. I took the liberty of settling them in the small front parlour.”

Neville heaved out a sigh.

“I am in no mood for company today, Stephens.”

“Lord Middlebrook mentioned wanting to discuss breeding his best mare with your prize stallion. It could be beneficial for you both.”

“If that is all he wanted to discuss, why did he bring his wife and daughter along?”

Neville arched a brow at his butler, who had been with him long enough to speak in a manner which any other employer might regard as impertinent. Neville found Stephens’ opinions of value, and was not minded to object when the man offered information. As the butler spoke again, Neville hurried to lock his charcoal and sketchbook in his bottom desk drawer.

“Would you like a polite answer or an honest one, my Lord?”

Neville chuckled and shook his head.

“I always prefer honesty, Stephens. You know that.”

“I do, my Lord. In all likelihood, Lord Middlebrook probably had very little choice in the matter. Most likely, Lady Middlebrook demanded to come along and bring Lady Henrietta, purely for the purpose of showing off their single and eligible daughter, whom they are hoping will make a good match. Lady Middlebrook probably sees you as a prized marriage prospect for her daughter, particularly if they share a close relationship. Lord Middlebrook will, of course, do what he can to keep his wife happy, whether he is aware of her true intentions or not.”

Neville barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

“I don’t know what I would do without you, Stephens. I suppose we will just have to see and judge for ourselves whether he is aware of Lady Middlebrook’s probable plans or not. Shall we?”

Stephens chuckled, sliding a sideways glance at Neville.

“Are you opposed to the idea of a match with Lady Henrietta, my Lord?”

Neville grimaced and looked away, his gaze darting to the desk drawer he’d just locked.

“As far as rank and status are concerned, the lady is not objectionable.”

“But?”

Ah, yes. Stephens was a perceptive man.

Neville grimaced.

“There is something… calculating in her demeanour which unsettles me. However, she did do me a great service by warning me about Miss Wingfield’s betrothal to the Count D’Asti, and I fear that I owe her a debt of gratitude for sparing me a great amount of embarrassment surrounding that entire affair.”

Neville gritted his teeth as he stood and followed Stephens out of the study, loathing that he felt beholden to Lady Henrietta.

Stephens stopped short and turned to face Neville then, frowning.

“Does it not strike you as strange, my Lord, that Lady Henrietta knew of their betrothal, but Miss Wingfield did not? That is what you confided to me last evening after you arrived home from your walk in Hyde Park, is it not?”

Neville’s heart thumped an erratic beat in his chest as he stared at his butler.

“Now that you mention it, Stephens, it does seem strange. Still, I do not know what to believe about Miss Wingfield and the Count D’Asti. He has arrived in London, and seems quite intent on enforcing the supposed marriage contract.”

“I would be on my guard if I were you, my Lord.”

“Thank you, Stephens. I will be.”

With that, they parted ways, Stephens striding off towards the kitchen, presumably to warn the housekeeper, who was also his wife, and the cook that they might be in need of refreshments for their guests.

Neville, however, squared his shoulders and strode towards the front parlour. The moment he entered the parlour, three shrewd gazes fixed on him. Neville bowed and forced himself to extend a welcoming smile to each member of the family in turn.

“Lord Middlebrook, Lady Middlebrook, Lady Henrietta. Welcome.” As soon as he’d extended this greeting, he turned to face Lord Middlebrook more fully. “Stephens tells me that you wanted to discuss a horse breeding matter with me?”

“Yes, quite.” Lord Middlebrook waved a hand dismissively. “I told Lady Middlebrook that I could just as easily have my man of business contact yours about the matter, but she insisted that I see to it personally, since we always pass by your townhouse on our way home from visiting her sister.”

Lady Middlebrook stepped up to her husband’s elbow, clearing her throat.

“The point I was trying to make to my beloved husband is that sometimes it is better to handle things with a personal touch. Besides, there is no greater pleasure — to my mind at least — than to enjoy socialising with one’s neighbours.”

Her smile was artfully benign, but her eyes — that same blue-green as her daughter’s, Neville noted — remained cold and shuttered. So, Lady Middlebrook must be the one Lady Henrietta inherited the eerie, calculating nature from, then. Neville shook himself out of his thoughts and nodded.

“You are quite right, Lady Middlebrook, I am sure. I do hope that you will all stay and have tea with me, of course.”

The Countess’ expression warmed at the invitation, and she seated herself on the couch beside Lady Henrietta, who was idly toying with a gold bracelet which hung on her wrist. Lady Henrietta looked up, then, catching Neville’s gaze.

“Do you like it, Lord Seabury?”

“It is a lovely bracelet, to be sure.” Neville stepped toward them and looked at it more closely, noting the tiny rubies set in the gold bracelet, arranged so that they looked like roses. “I have never seen anything quite like it.”

Lady Henrietta beamed, looking quite pleased at his observation of the jewellery. A strand of her strawberry-blonde hair came loose from the intricately crafted chignon atop her head, and she tucked it back behind her ear, batting her pale reddish-gold eyelashes at him as she did so.

“Mama just had the modiste create a rather breath-taking gold gown for me, for Lady Mowbray’s St. Valentine’s Day Ball, with ruby accents to match this very bracelet, and several other pieces of jewellery which were crafted to match it.”

“I am sure you will look absolutely resplendent in your new gown, Lady Henrietta.” Neville inclined his head politely, then turned his attention back to the young lady’s father as a pair of housemaids entered with trays, one laden with the tea service, and the other with fresh biscuits and scones. “So, Lord Middlebrook, tell me what sparked your interest in having my stallion cover one of your mares.”