A Reckless Encounter

oo bloody lazy to scheme.”

“You shouldn’t talk about your great-uncle that way. Or your father, for that matter. Really, whatever has gotten into you lately? You were once quite pleasant. Now—”

“Now I’m the reckless Lord Northington, heir to a title and my father’s reputation. I can no longer afford to be pleasant. If Grandfather had only lived awhile longer, perhaps we could have all been set free. It was a damned nuisance that he contracted a fever and shared it with the only heir capable of decency. My father’s lucky star again, that he inherited after all.”

The countess looked distressed, and Colter cursed his harsh tongue. The same fever that had taken the sixth earl and an uncle had also taken his older brother Anthony, the heir, an unexpected death his mother still deeply mourned and his father cursed.

He crossed the small sitting room and sat beside his mother on the striped brocade settee in front of the fire.

“I’m in a wicked mood, ma mére. It has nothing to do with you. I’ll go up and see him before I leave. I always do, don’t I?”

“Yes.” Blue eyes not quite as bright as his stared at him with a searching penetration. “You always do your duty. You’re an honorable man.”

“Don’t let that get about. I want nothing to sully my reputation as a scoundrel and a rake, if you don’t mind. It’s much more convenient to have anxious mamas avoid me rather than push their horse-faced daughters in my direction.”

A faint smile touched the corners of her lips. “Not even your sullied reputation will divert some, I’m afraid. Your presence at a fête has been requested by one of my dearest friends, and I trust you won’t disappoint me.”

Colter lifted an ironic brow. “How grim.”

“Just make an appearance. You aren’t required to stay long.”

“Which of your friends is ruining my evening with a room filled with chattering ninnies, may I ask? Or do you intend to surprise me—God, it’s not Lady Throgmorton, I trust.”

“No, not even I would be so cruel as to make that demand of you. It’s Lady Leverton. She’s been my dear friend for some time. Her daughter was just presented to the prince and is to be wed next summer, but apparently wishes to enjoy the small Season. She also mentioned that her cousin’s daughter from the Colonies will be presented. A charming girl, I understand. Quiet, and not prone to giggling or stammering. I find that refreshing these days.”

Colter thought of Harvey and the young woman who had accompanied Lady Leverton. He was wrong. London was small enough for coincidences, after all.

And it couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.

“Since you ask it of me,” he said, and saw his mother’s surprise, “I’ll let you fling me to the wolves. Just don’t expect me to linger for the coup de grace.”

“Really, Colter.”

“Ah, now I’ve earned your reproach. I should offer my apologies to you.”

“Yes, you should. But all will be forgiven if you pay particular attention to Lady Leverton’s cousin. I’ve been assured she has excellent manners. Be charming enough to assure her success, but do not be too charming. No sense in giving the wrong impression to either the young lady or to Lady Leverton.”

“Now I see your plot. You’re a disgraceful schemer, and should be ashamed, but I see that you have no scruples at all. You know I hate to be charming.”

“But you do it so effortlessly when you choose.” Her smile was serene. “You surprise me, Colter. I thought it would take much more to wring an agreement from you.”

“You know I’ve never been able to refuse anything you ask of me.”

“Then I ask that you be agreeable to your father. Ah. I see that doesn’t get an immediate response from you. Are you more able to refuse me now?”

“Let’s just say I’d rather clean the Aegean stables. It would be less messy, and far more successful.”

Unperturbed by his observation, she said, “Excellent. Now, be so good as to visit your father before he sends Brewster down to fetch you. He’s already in a rare mood. Try not to quarrel with him.”

Rising to his feet, Colter regarded his mother for a brief moment. She sat erect as she always did, her bearing innately aristocratic. It was a posture he had come to associate with times of duress, an indication that the earl was behaving toward her with more than just his usual perversity. He bent over the hand she held out to him.

“I’ll visit the dragon, but I make no promises. He can hire whipping boys. I refuse to be one.”

“Just—” She paused, then said softly, “Just try to remember his illness.”

“His illness has little to do with his nature. If you prefer to forget that, I choose to remember.”

The countess said nothing, but her eyes held a sorrowful recognition of the truth. He felt like a bloody bastard reminding her of it.