Page 9 of The Undaunted
“My aunt is an excellent mother,” Lord Bertridge said, nodding. “She is exceedingly steady.”
Caroline imagined she was rather steady. What she wasn’t though, was the warm embrace that was her own mother. Lady Dunn was indulgent, perhaps overly so, and often distracted with one or another of her nine children, but one always knew one was highly approved of. Lady Easton was a different sort—colder, more distant, and seemingly obsessed by the minute hand of a clock.
“Of course,” Caroline said, “I am ever so grateful for the courtesy, as are my mother and father.”
She supposed she’d hit the right note, as both Lady Easton and her nephew nodded gravely.
The rest of the dinner was taken up with Lady Easton by turns fretting on the state of the as yet unknown house in Brighton and expressing all confidence in Bramley and Mrs. Wooton’s abilities in sorting it all out.
There were some interesting pieces of information slipped in between these speculations. One, Lord Bertridge would stay in the house with them. Caroline was certain that living in close quarters would give her a glimpse of what lay underneath his stiff façade, and she was becoming more and more interested in discovering it. Two, Lord Bertridge would bring his dog, a bull mastiff named Edgar, and Caroline was highly approving of that. Her own house always had a dog running around. And three, she was to get her own lady’s maid, though Lady Easton was not confident of the sort of quality of person they would discover in Brighton.
The dinner concluded with a rhubarb tart. Caroline was informed that Wednesday’s dinner always ended with a fruit tart, the only change made was whatever fruit was most in season.
In the drawing room, she was sent to the pianoforte and asked to play. She had, for a moment, thought of a piece of music that was very lively. She was used to entertaining children and they were only entertained by liveliness. However, upon viewing Lady Easton and her nephew looking very staid in their chairs, she chose a series of quieter Irish airs.
After a half hour had passed, Lady Easton stood and said, “We ought to retire now. Miss Upton, breakfast is at seven and we depart at eight. Eight, sharp.”
Caroline nodded, having the smallest feeling that her lateness of two minutes in arriving to the drawing room this night might haunt her forever.
In her bedchamber,Caroline waited for Prudence to come in after helping Lady Easton to undress. She was perfectly happy to wait, as she brought a candle to the windowsill and gazed out upon the darkened street, the lamplights making pools of yellow circles on the road. She had watched Lord Bertridge go into his house, and now he was back out again with his dog.
The dog was a beast of a creature, but he seemed well trained as he did not pull on his leash. Rather, he stayed very close by his master.
Caroline smiled. She could not hear what Lord Bertridge said, but she could very clearly see that he was talking to his dog.
It had always been her opinion that most gentlemen were rather simple creatures. They were as they showed they were, not having the guile to do anything else.
Now she was not quite as sure. Lord Bertridge seemed a different sort. There was some sort of mystery to him. It was interesting. Very interesting.
As Edgar sniffed at something fascinating he had discovered on the pavement, Lord Bertridge glanced up at the house.
Caroline waved to him, then suppressed her laughter as he promptly turned and marched back to his house, his dog nearly tripping him up by rushing against his leg.
*
Richard had beenwalking Edgar, and telling him soothing things, as everybody knew the poor dog was terrified of the dark. He’d glanced up at his aunt’s house, as he liked to confirm that all was in order, and there had been Miss Upton at her window.
What was she doing at the window?
And then, she’d waved. She’d positively waved.
What was he supposed to do? Wave back?
His aunt had been right to request his help. The lady spoke freely of the effects of gin, spent time at places where rough sorts congregated, and then, then, at dinner!
She’d seemed positively amused by his report on the production of cheeses on his estate. What was so amusing about cheese? She had looked…how had she looked? Well, she looked…rather pert. Perhaps even condescending. As if good cheese were some easy thing to accomplish, which he could assure her it was not!
But then, she was a bit of a conundrum. He could not claim everything she did was not quite right. She played beautifully and her table manners were highly refined.
And she was exceedingly pretty, which was both pleasant and a concern. She was marvelous to look at, but what sort of unwanted attention would that bring at Brighton? What difficulties would arise when gentlemen who were set free of the more formal rules of Town roamed the seaside?
Would she wave to those rogues as they passed by her window? What was he to do about it if she did?
He made a mental note to suggest to his aunt that Miss Upton be given a bedchamber that faced the garden, if there were a garden, so at least the threat of her waving to strangers would be removed.
Richard sighed as he sat down with a glass of brandy in his study. Edgar laid a sympathetic paw on his thigh. As he scratched the dog’s ears, he concluded that this trip to Brighton would be full of pitfalls that would need careful stepping round.
It was the season when he should be quietly retiring to his estate and mulling over his papers, taking his horse out to tour the grounds, visiting tenants, and meticulously cleaning his guns for the hunting to come.
