Page 16 of The Undaunted
Goodness. What a household.
*
Richard had stormedand stewed all afternoon. He’d even resorted to having a brandy, which had seemed to alarm Bramley to his core. There was no help for it, there were times when he was faced with so much aggravation that the temper he had so carefully boxed up in his youth threatened to make a reappearance. He’d had the urge to throttle Miss Upton, and so he must have a brandy to shore up the box.
And to stop thinking ofher. She was positively daring! And rude. Who was she to make fun of what his eyes were doing? His eyes had not been doing anything at all but checking on his aunt’s house. It had not been his fault that Miss Upton had been sitting at her window.
To try to suggest that he, that he had been what? A peeper? It was outrageous. She was outrageous. What had his aunt dragged him into? For that matter, how on earth was Lady Easton to control such a person? Miss Upton was glib, she flouted the rules. She did not even take rank seriously.
He was Lord Bertridge. The very idea that she would have the effrontery to call him Bertie—it was undignified and far too familiar.
And here they were, in Brighton, where there would be no end of opportunities to find trouble. Alvanley and his set were here, he was certain. Where the Regent went, they went. They were careless men, overly impressed by their own wit, as if wit were the highest accomplishment a man could strive for. They were all unrepentant flirts, which he found very distasteful. What good could be said of leading a lady on? Or worse, meddling with a gentleman’s wife? When he determined he should pursue a lady, there would be no mistaking his purpose. It would be direct and proper.
Of course, he had not yet done any such thing. The Duke of Clayton’s daughter was not out until next year. She was a far different sort than Miss Upton. She had been described as demure and wouldn’t that be a nice change from what he had recently been subjected to.
If Miss Upton had been raised demure, what a lady she might be. She might have every respectable gentleman at her feet. Not himself, of course, as he was firmly set on the duke’s daughter, but most everybody else. Who would not gravitate toward a lady who was demure and also the owner of a remarkably pretty head of rich-toned brown hair, large and dark eyes, and a ready smile? She was everything lovely, until she spoke. Then, the effect was quite ruined.
He briefly thought of telling his aunt of Miss Upton’s latest outrage. But then he’d thrown over the idea. He ought to be able to control Miss Upton himself and if he were to tell the tale, it would appear as if he could not garner the necessary respect on his own. No, that would not do at all.
He had managed to mollify himself somewhat in the ensuing hours. The brandy certainly helped in that regard, but a welcome arrival helped even more. His man had turned up with his dog. His valet expertly managed the unpacking and ironing of his shirts, while Edgar engaged in an extremely enthusiastic reunion. Richard had often noticed that it did not seem to matter if they had been parted for five hours or five days, Edgar launched himself at his master as if he had been convinced they would never see one another again.
Kingston had brought Edgar’s bed along, a wood box filled with layers of blankets, and set it up in the corner of the room. At home, Edgar would sleep on the ground floor, as he did like to get up and have a walk around the house to check on things, but knowing his aunt’s lack of interest in dogs, it was better he stay confined.
He could not confine him always though, so Edgar had happily trotted at his feet as he made his way to the drawing room at precisely two minutes to four.
He was rather pleased to have Edgar by his side. The dog was notoriously fearful of strangers. Though Richard knew it to be fear, Edgar would appear to anybody else as if he were merely standoffish. Perhaps even disdainful. If he could not insult Miss Upton himself, let Edgar turn his nose up at her.
To his surprise, Miss Upton was already in the drawing room.
To his further surprise, she had dropped to her knees upon seeing Edgar and said, “Come to me, you darling dog!”
Edgar trotted rather joyfully to the lady, threw himself on the ground and exposed his abdomen.
What was the dog doing? He was supposed to be insulting Miss Upton, not paying her the highest respect of showing his undercarriage! Was there nobody to count on anymore?
*
“You sweet thing,”Caroline said, rubbing Edgar’s belly. Whatever she thought of Bertie, his dog was a different matter altogether. He was wonderfully built—solid as a brick house. His coat was tawny and lighter on the underside and he had a very silly, drooly mouth.
Caroline, always living amongst dogs in her own house, was well aware that most reacted very well to enthusiasm and praise. Let them think you approved of them over all other living creatures and they would very much approve ofyou. Or as her father would say,dogs adore those that love them and abhor those that don’t. Edgar was a beast of a dog, but his mind was no different from any other.
Bertie did not seem to appreciate his dog’s current adoration and Caroline supposed he was one of those owners who preferred their dog to love only them. Or perhaps he did not like how undignified Edgar looked in his current position—on his back with his legs straight in the air, tail wagging back and forth like a runaway pendulum.
Lady Easton came in and took in the scene. From her gentle sigh, Caroline surmised she was not fond of dogs herself. And likely not fond of finding her charge on the floor with one.
Caroline bit her lip to keep from smiling. At least she had not been late.
Bramley brought in the tea at precisely four o’clock and Lady Easton said, “Caroline, do come and sit by me.”
Caroline gave Edgar a last tummy pat and scrambled up from the floor, brushing the telltale dog hair from her skirts.
As they sat down, Caroline presumed they were to embark on a rather dreary tea, likely peppered with things she should not say or do. Perhaps Bertie would be disappointed to discover that she’d been given a bedchamber facing the street and might wave to anybody she liked.
However, before any of that could unfold, Lord Easton turned up.
“My dear,” he said, coming into the room and lightly kissing his wife’s cheek. “Miss Upton, charmed to meet you, though I’ve seen you from afar so often as you’ve been by your father’s side. You do look well, the sea air must agree with you. Richard, how do you get on?”
Caroline had risen and curtsied, thinking he was a very genial gentleman. He might be a terrible gambler, but then she could not fault him for that as it had so often been to her father’s advantage.
