Page 59 of Barbarous

Yes, and what about that, Daphne? Just when are you planning on getting around to that?

Daphne had no clever mental response.

“You have my deepest sympathies,” Hugh said.

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Why, Daphne! You are not hanging on my every word?”

“No.”

He threw back his head and the breakfast room echoed with his laughter. Daphne told herself not to feel such a sense of achievement for merely making him laugh.

“I was offering you my sympathy for the past few weeks. I know how relentless my aunt can be.” He ate the last bite of beef and turned his attention to a slab of ham. “I expect Aunt Letitia to swoop in on me at any moment and take me in hand.”

“Is that why you have been hiding at your club?”

He chewed and swallowed before responding. “How astute of you, Daphne.”

“Coward.”

“And very proud of it.”

A laugh slipped out before she could stop it and he cocked one eyebrow in a way that made her vibrate with . . . something. She ignored whatever it was and fixed him with a cool stare.

He smiled at her attempt to suppress him. “Don’t you have any place to hide, Daphne?”

She took the opportunity of the footman’s arrival with fresh coffee to ignore him.

“To own the truth, I’d half expected my aunt to show up at White’s or Watier’s with that cane of hers and beat me over the head until I accompanied her to Almack’s.”

Daphne stirred milk into her coffee and enjoyed the mental image of the wizened, bent old lady beating Hugh with her cane.

“I see you like that thought, my lady.”

She did not bother to deny the accusation.

“I can only suppose she is biding her time and will pounce on me at this wretched ball of hers.”

His suspicion was correct, but Daphne felt no desire to warn him. Hugh would have very little rest once his aunt had him in her clutches. She smiled with grim anticipation at the thought of his formidable aunt attempting to mold the big man to her will. The two would be worthy opponents. For all his apparent amiability, Hugh had a will of iron.

He paused in his demolition of the ham steak. “I am at liberty today and had it in mind to take the boys to the Tower.”

Daphne experienced a strange pang at his words. Luckily she was quick enough to suppress an answering smile. As far as she was concerned, Lord Ramsay could save his charm for his redheaded mistress. Or fiancée. Or concubine. Or—

“Have they already been?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Tsk, tsk, my lady, you are demolishing my delicate self-esteem this morning.” He laughed at her scowl. “I asked if the boys have already gone to the Tower?”

“Not yet.”

“Excellent. Would you care to accompany us, my dear Daphne?”

Her eyes narrowed at both his offer and endearment. He had been avoiding her since coming to London—for three weeks—and had disappeared with hardly a word two weeks before that. Did he think she would forget all about the episode at Lessing Hall if he stayed away long enough? Was that what he’d been up to?

“I am engaged this afternoon.”