Page 8 of A Baron’s Most Inconvenient Marriage (Delightful Lords and Ladies)

Chapter 8

“You cannot be serious,” Lady Blackthorn’s teacup clattered against its saucer like a warning bell. “Charlotte Fairfax? The same girl who turned Lady Cavendish’s ball into a rather tasteless theatrical performance?”

Sebastian stood before his mother’s favorite writing desk, where the afternoon light streaming in through tall windows illuminated her expression—one of perfect horror.

The familiar scents of lavender water and freshly brewed Darjeeling tea filled the space around them, a combination that had always represented maternal authority in his mind.

“Save your objections, Mother. I have already called on her,” he said, doing his best to maintain the calm tone he usually reserved for dealing with agitated tenant farmers. “She has accepted my suit.”

“Accepted… your—” his mother pressed her slender fingers to her temples, a gesture remarkably similar to Charlotte’s handling of her paint-stained hands the day before.

The comparison almost made him smile, but he stopped himself. “Sebastian, darling, have you taken complete leave of your senses?”

“On the contrary,” he moved to stand before the window, where the perfectly manicured gardens of Blackthorne Hall spread out in immaculate, controlled lines. “I assure you, I am thinking quite clearly.”

“Are you?” Lady Blackthorn’s voice carried the same tone she had used when he was seven and had decided to teach his pony to jump hedges. “Then perhaps you can explain to my why precisely you would choose to attach yourself to a girl who clearly lacks the basic requirements for a baroness?”

Sebastian turned, one eyebrow raised. “And what requirements would you deem those to be, Mother? The ability to pour tea without spilling? To recite poetry in three languages while maintaining perfect posture?”

“Do not be flippant with me, Sebastian.” She set her cup down with careful precision. “You know perfectly well what I mean. A baroness must be able to manage a household, to navigate society and connections with grace, to maintain the dignity of her station.”

“Forgive me, but it rather sounds like you have already chosen a candidate in my stead.”

“Indeed. Lady Margaret Barrington is a most sensible match. She is everything a nobleman’s wife should be—accomplished, well-bred, perfectly mannered, not to mention—”

“Entirely unsuited to Blackthorn Hall?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Mother, you know as well as I that Blackthorn Hall needs more than perfect manners.”

Sebastian moved to the desk, picking up one of the dinner invitations she had been writing. “It is in need of practical knowledge, fresh perspectives, and someone who can understand that true nobility lies in actions, rather than appearances.”

“And you are under the illusion of thinking that that… that ungovernable young woman possesses these qualities?” his mother’s tone suggested she had sooner believe in flying elephants. “The same girl who challenged her youngest brother to a horse race through Hyde Park?”

“The same girl who understands estate management, speaks three languages fluently, and has more practical knowledge of tenant relations than half the nobility in London combined.” Sebastian stated as he set the invitation down. “Father always said—”

“Your father is no longer here.” The words fell between them like a gauntlet. “And you have responsibilities, Sebastian. To your title. To your estate. To your family’s position in society.”

“All more reason why Miss Fairfax would make an excellent choice.” He kept his voice steady, reasonable. “The Fairfax’s may lack a title, but their wealth and connections would strengthen Blackthorn Hall considerably.”

“There are better ways to acquire wealth and connections.”

Lady Blackthorn lifted another invitation. “I have arranged a dinner party for next week. The Barrington’s will be in attendance, along with several other suitable families. Surely you can wait to announce any… understanding with Miss Fairfax until you have at least met some more appropriate candidates?”

“You mean until you can force one of them on me?” Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “Forgive me, Mother. I should not have spoken so harshly. But, it all matters little, as I have already begun courting her. Publicly.”

His mother waved her hand dismissively. “One morning call hardly constitutes a courtship, Sebastian. And honestly, after that… display at the ball, I doubt—”

“You mean the display that showed more honest feeling than I have seen in a dozen society gatherings?” the words emerged sharper than he had intended, but his patience was wearing thin. “At least her missteps come from genuine emotion rather than calculated manipulation.”

His mother’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You sound remarkably defensive of a girl you claim to be courting for mere practical reasons.”

Sebastian caught himself, realizing that he had revealed more than he had intended to. “My reasons are my own.”

“Are they?” Lady Blackthorn studied him with the penetrating gaze that had uncovered countless childhood misdeeds. “It rather seems like you have allowed yourself to be swayed by a pretty face and a lively manner.”

“I am calling on her again tomorrow morning.” Sebastian said with a tone that brooked no argument. He moved toward the door, unwilling to examine his mother’s question too closely. “William will serve as chaperone.”

“Sebastian—”

“The invitations to your dinner party will have to wait, Mother.” He paused in the doorway. “I find my social calendar is rather full at present.”

Sebastian had barely reached his study when Diana’s quick footsteps followed him down the hall. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” his sister said, slipping through the door like a shadow. “Mother is arranging another dinner party?”

“More like a tactical siege,” Sebastian dropped into his father’s chair, the leather creaking almost sounding like a sympathetic sigh. “Complete with carefully positioned social artillery.”

“Lady Margaret?” Diana perched on the edge of his desk, her face scrunched up in thought. “But I thought you were courting Miss Fairfax now.”

“How do you know about that?”

Diana smiled. “The staff have been gossiping about it all morning.”

“News travels fast,” Sebastian muttered, though he could not quite suppress a smile at his sister’s obvious interest. “Yes, I am courting Miss Fairfax. Though mother seems utterly determined to present alternatives.”

“But why? She is wonderful!” Diana’s voice held the absolute certainty of youth. “She has never treated me like a child, she knows all sorts of interesting things about art and literature. Did you know she can discuss Italian poetry without sounding like she is reciting it from a schoolroom primer?”

“I did, actually.” Sebastian recalled Charlotte’s animated discussion of Dante during one of his visits to Ravensmere, her hands gesturing expressively as she argued her interpretation. The memory warmed him more than it probably should have.

“Then, why would mother prefer Margaret?” Diana’s frown deepened. “She is very elegant, of course, but she always makes me feel like I am being assessed for proper deportment.”

Before Sebastian could respond, their butler arrived at the door. “Pardon the interruption, my lord. Lady Blackthorn has requested that you review these dinner invitations before they are sent out.”

Sebastian accepted the stack of cards, each one written in his mother’s precise hand. The names read like a catalogue of society’s most eligible young ladies, with the Barrington’s positioned for the seat of honor.

“Mother does not seem to have taken your refusal to heart, brother dear.” Diana observed, reading them over his shoulder. “And, I notice that the Fairfax’s aren’t included.”

“An oversight, I am sure,” Sebastian said dryly. He set the invitations aside, unwilling to deal with this fresh complication just yet.

“Sebastian?” Diana’s voice had gone quiet. “Do you… do you truly like Miss Fairfax? I mean, really like her? Not just as William’s sister or because she knows about estates and such?”

The question caught him off guard. “I—”

A knock at the door saved him from having to answer. James Fairfax stood in the doorway, his expression caught between amusement and concern. “I do hope I am not interrupting?”

“Not at all,” Sebastian gestured him in, perhaps too eagerly. “My sister was just leaving to practice her piano lessons.”

“I was not—” Diana began but then caught his meaningful look and sighed. “Oh, very well. But this conversation is not finished.”

After she had gone, James settled into the chair opposite the desk. “I see news of your mother’s dinner party has reached you.”

“Complete with a carefully curated guest list.” Sebastian pushed the invitations toward him. “Tell me, Fairfax, how does your cousin feel about being offered up as an alternative to your sister?”

“Margaret?” James picked up one of the cards, his mouth quirking. “I would not know. Though I suspect she’d be less than thrilled to be used as a pawn in the dowager baroness’s social chess game.”

“And Charlotte? How do you suppose she will feel when she hears of this?”

“That rather depends.” James set the invitation down. “On whether you are planning to attend.”

Sebastian ran a hand through his dark curls, a gesture his mother would have scolded him for. “I can hardly refuse without causing a scene. Mother would see it as a direct challenge to her authority.”

“Whereas attending might be seen as a direct challenge to your courtship with my sister.” James leaned back, studying him. “Unless, of course, this arrangement with my sister truly is just a temporary inconvenience?”

“It is not—” Sebastian stopped, frustrated by his inability to define exactly what it was. “Charlotte deserves better than to be publicly undermined by my own mother.”

“Agreed.” James’s expression turned thoughtful. “Though, perhaps there is a way to turn this to your advantage.”

“How?”

“By attending with Charlotte as your guest.” A rare, sly smile spread across James’s face. “After all, what better way to announce the legitimacy of your courtship than to present her at a gathering specifically designed to introduce you to other potential matches?”

Sebastian considered it. The move would be bold, perhaps even controversial. But it would make his position clear to everyone—including his mother.

“Charlotte might not agree,” he said finally. “After all, being paraded before society as a declaration of intent was not part of our arrangement.”

“No,” James agreed, rising to leave. “But then again, neither was defending her honor for all to see in Hyde Park. You seem to be making quite a habit of exceeding the terms of your agreement when it concerns my sister personally.”

After James left, Sebastian sat staring at the dinner invitations, his mind turning over possibilities like cards in a complex game. Tomorrow’s call suddenly seemed impossibly far away, and yet, somehow not soon enough.

The evening found Sebastian in his study as usual, reviewing his mother’s dinner invitations for what felt like the hundredth time with the same attention he usually reserved for estate ledgers.

The unsigned cards lay before him like pieces in an elaborate game of strategy.

“Still contemplating tomorrow’s diplomatic mission?” William’s voice carried a hint of amusement. “I do not recall you being quite so particular about social calls before, Bash.”

“I am merely ensuring I approach this properly,” Sebastian said as he ran a hand over the expensive cardstock, drawing little comfort from its familiar texture. “Given Charlotte’s tendency toward… direct responses, it seems prudent.”

“Direct?” William leaned against the desk. “That is a rather diplomatic way of describing someone who once told the Duchess of Kensington that her new hat looked rather like a peacock that had expired on her head.”

“She was nine then.”

“So, she was. And she would say it again tomorrow if the opportunity presented itself.” William’s tone held equal measures of pride and exasperation. “Though I suspect that is part of why you are considering this bold move?”

Sebastian turned, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Bash, when was the last time you looked forward to anything that was not related to the duties of your title?”

The question struck uncomfortably close to home. Since his father’s death, Sebastian’s world had narrowed down to two things: ledgers and responsibilities. Each day was a careful balance of duty and obligation, but now…

“I have heard of your plan to invite her to your mother’s dinner party,” William continued, his voice carefully neutral. “My cousin Margaret will be there, I assume?”

“Along with every other eligible young lady my mother deems fit.” Sebastian moved to the window, needing the distraction of movement. “Mother is nothing if not thorough in her campaigns.”

“And how precisely do you plan to present this to my sister?”

“James suggested making it a statement of intent.”

“Bold.” William whistled softly. “Mother would have an apoplexy.”

“Which mother? Yours or mine?”

“Honestly? Probably both.” William’s grin flashed bright in the dimming light. “Though I rather suspect my sister would enjoy the opportunity to cause a little chaos among the ton. Especially if it involves upending your mother’s carefully laid plans.”

Sebastian straightened, adjusting his cravat. “This is not about causing chaos. It is about making my position clear.”

“Ah, of course.” William eyed his friend with barely concealed amusement. “And what position is that, exactly?”

The question hung in the air between them, finer than morning mist, refusing to dissipate. Sebastian thought of Charlotte’s paint-smudged hands, her quick wit, the way she had met his eyes during their morning ride—challenging and vulnerable, all at once.

“I should finish these letters,” he said instead of answering. “There are still mining reports to review before the morning.”

“Of course there are.” William’s voice carried knowing amusement. “Though I cannot help noticing you have spent more time preparing for one social call than you did for your last three estate meetings combined.”

“The estate does not have a habit of turning social conventions on their head.”

“No, but Charlotte might challenge your every assumption, remember that, Bash.” William pushed away from the desk. “Are you ready for that? Not just the dinner party, but everything else she might make you question?”

Sebastian thought of his mother’s perfectly ordered world, of Margaret’s flawless manners, of all the carefully laid plans pertaining to Blackthorn Hall’s future.

Then, he thought of Charlotte’s laugh, of her practical suggestions, of the way she had faced society’s criticism with wounded dignity but an unbroken spirit.

“I suppose we shall find out tomorrow.” He said finally.

But as William left, Sebastian could not shake the feeling that tomorrow’s conversation would test more than just his diplomatic skills.

His mother’s plans, his own carefully maintained control, the precise nature of his agreement with Charlotte—everything seemed suddenly as unpredictable as Charlotte herself.

Without thinking to do so, he moved toward his father’s chess set, still arranged from their last game together.

How often had his father told him that the most challenging moves were often the most rewarding? That true strategy required not just careful planning, but the courage to seize unexpected opportunities?

Tomorrow, he would offer Charlotte more than just an invitation to a dinner party. He would offer her a chance to upend every carefully laid plan, every social expectation, every boundary they had established.

The thought should have terrified him, should have sent him retreating to the safety of his duties.

The most unsettling part of this realization, however, was how much he found himself looking forward to it—not just their conversation, but to every unpredictable moment Charlotte might bring to his carefully ordered world.

Like a key finding its lock, or a mathematical proof revealing its elegant solution, something about her both challenged and completed him in ways he could not yet understand.