Page 10 of A Lady’s Mishap (The Lockwood Family #5)

10

E lodie sat in the drawing room, her needle threading through thefabric as she worked on the waistcoat for Lulu. The fabric was delicate, embroidered with tiny blue flowers, and she tried to focus on each stitch even as her mother’s voice droned on beside her. Lady Dallington, sitting primly on the settee, was in the middle of her usual lecture about the importance of conduct.

Her mother stopped speaking, and Elodie glanced up. “What is the matter?”

“You are not listening to a single word I am saying,” her mother said, a trace of irritation lining her voice.

Elodie gave a slight smile, raising the embroidery to inspect her stitches. “On the contrary, I could repeat it back to you almost word for word. You warned me that one fall, even the tiniest mishap, could destroy my entire Season.”

“And you must promise that under no circumstances you will lay a hand on Lord Westcott.”

Elodie lowered her embroidery to her lap. “I cannot promise that. What if he tries to take liberties with me?”

“Lord Westcott has the reputation of being an honorable gentleman.”

“Then I should have no need to engage in fisticuffs with him,” Elodie said. “Besides, I only hit one person in my entire life, and it felt like striking a brick wall. I have no intention of repeating that mistake.”

Her mother looked slightly relieved until Elodie added, “This time, I would simply kick him.”

“There will be no kicking!” her mother admonished.

“You say that now…” Elodie started.

“I say that always.”

“… but if I must, I will kick like a samurai,” Elodie said with mock solemnity.

With a shake of her head, her mother asked, “Pray tell, what does a samurai kick like?”

“I have no idea,” Elodie admitted, lowering her voice, “but I have read about them. They are stealthy, like ninjas. There could be one in this very room, and we would not even know it.”

“You are impossible, Child,” her mother said, rubbing her temples.

Elodie perked up. “Do you think we could get a samurai?”

Her mother stood. “Samurai are not pets, Elodie. They are esteemed warriors in Japanese culture, and they deserve respect.”

At that moment, White appeared in the doorway. “Lord Westcott, my ladies,” he announced.

Elodie leaned forward and set down the unfinished waistcoat before rising to her feet. She waited as Lord Westcott was ushered into the room. He greeted them with a bow, and she returned his gesture with a graceful curtsy.

“Lady Dallington, Lady Elodie,” Lord Westcott said, straightening from his bow. He glanced at the fabric and thread scattered across the table. “May I ask what you are embroidering?”

Elodie reached down and retrieved the garment. “It is a waistcoat,” she said proudly, holding it up for his inspection. “For my dog, Lulu.”

Lord Westcott blinked, clearly caught off guard. “For a dog? A waistcoat?”

“Yes,” Elodie said, undeterred by his confusion. “I want Lulu to look distinguished when we go for our walks in the park. A puppy can be dignified, don’t you think?”

His expression was one of polite skepticism. “I confess, I have never thought of a puppy as ‘distinguished,’ but I am intrigued by your determination.”

Her mother interjected, “I do hope the two of you have a delightful carriage ride.”

Elodie stepped forward, accepting Lord Westcott’s outstretched arm. “Shall we, my lord?”

“Yes, of course,” Lord Westcott replied, his eyes lingering on the unfinished waistcoat for a moment longer. As they walked towards the door, he added, “I do hope you have no objections, but my sister, Lady Eugenie, will be joining us.”

“I have no objections,” Elodie said.

Lord Westcott’s eyes held approval. “Eugenie insisted on staying in the carriage. She wanted to finish reading the last chapter of her book before we set off.”

“I do not blame your sister. I would not dream of interrupting someone during a good book.”

They stepped outside through the main door, the sunlight glinting off the polished brass of the carriage. Seated inside, with a straw hat covering her blonde hair, was Lady Eugenie. Her face was partially hidden by the worn, leather-bound cover of her book, her concentration evident. As Elodie accepted Lord Westcott’s hand and climbed into the carriage, Lady Eugenie snapped her book shut, a bright smile lighting up her features.

“I have finished,” she announced with triumph, tucking the book beside her.

It was then that Elodie got a proper look at Lady Eugenie, and realization dawned on her. This was the very same young woman she had seen at the ball—the one caught in a compromising situation with Lord Montrose. A flicker of understanding passed between them as Lady Eugenie’s expression shifted, her eyes widening.

“It is you,” Lady Eugenie said softly, her voice tinged with surprise.

Lord Westcott’s brow furrowed as he glanced between them. “I had not realized you two were already acquainted.”

Elodie caught the pleading look in Lady Eugenie’s eyes and responded with a reassuring smile. “Yes, we met briefly at Lady Montrose’s ball.”

“Indeed,” Lady Eugenie confirmed quickly, her expression relaxing. “It was a… memorable evening.”

“Wonderful,” Lord Westcott said, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. He settled back into his seat beside his sister.

Elodie seized the opportunity to shift the conversation. Gesturing to the book Lady Eugenie had set aside, she asked, “May I ask what you were reading?”

“ A Vindication of the Rights of Women by Mary Wollstonecraft,” Lady Eugenie replied. “It is a truly fascinating read.”

Lord Westcott’s expression tightened, and he cleared his throat. “You must forgive my sister. I do not quite approve of her choice in literature.”

“And why is that, my lord?” Elodie challenged. “Is it because Mary Wollstonecraft argues that women are not naturally inferior to men, but only seem so due to a lack of education?”

Lady Eugenie’s eyes grew wide. “You have read the book?”

Elodie nodded, leaning forward. “I have. But you must not tell my father. He prefers that I occupy myself with lighter novels that require far less thought.”

“That sounds very much like my brother’s preferences,” Lady Eugenie said.

Lord Westcott crossed his arms. “I only wish to protect you. You would not want to be labeled as a bluestocking, would you?”

Lady Eugenie tilted her chin. “And what if I do? There is nothing wrong with being a bluestocking.”

“I must say, I agree with your sister,” Elodie said. “The world could use a few more women with a passion for knowledge.”

Lord Westcott raised his hands in surrender. “I am clearly outnumbered, and a wise man knows when not to fall on his sword.”

“A rare feat, indeed,” Lady Eugenie said. “My brother never admits he is wrong.”

Lord Westcott’s mouth twisted in response. “I never said I was wrong. I merely suggested it might be better to discuss other topics,” he said before turning his attention to Elodie. “Perhaps you could offer my sister some advice on navigating the ton . After all, you were chosen as the Season’s diamond. There is no one better suited to guide her.”

As the carriage wheels rumbled over the cobblestones and turned into Hyde Park, Elodie felt a slight tightening in her chest. She was not sure if she was ready to be anyone’s guide, especially not a fellow bluestocking. Still, she clasped her hands in her lap. “I am not certain I am the best person to give advice on such matters,” she said. “In truth, I have always felt rather out of place myself.”

Lord Westcott gave her a skeptical look. “That is hardly true. You would not have been named the diamond if that were the case.”

Elodie offered a slight shrug. “Perhaps the queen was simply feeling generous that day,” she teased. “Nonetheless, I am happy to answer any question Lady Eugenie may have. Though I cannot promise you will like my answers.”

Settling comfortably against the cushioned seat, Lord Westcott inclined his head towards his sister. “Eugenie, now is your chance. Do you have any burning questions for Lady Elodie?”

Lady Eugenie’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, and she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I do have one.”

Elodie leaned in as well. “Ask away, my lady.”

Lady Eugenie hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering briefly to her brother as if to gauge his reaction, then returning to Elodie. “I overheard you tell the queen that you intend to marry for love.”

“I do,” Elodie confirmed.

“But… do you truly believe that is possible?” Lady Eugenie’s voice was tentative, almost wistful. “Love matches seem so rare amongst the ton . It is all about alliances and social expectation.”

Elodie bobbed her head in understanding. “It is true, love matches are a rarity in our world. But that does not mean they are impossible,” she said. “My brothers, my sister, and even my cousin managed to find love despite Society’s expectations. It takes a bit of courage and a good deal of luck, but it is possible.”

Lady Eugenie leaned back, her expression thoughtful. “Love feels so elusive. It is almost like a?—”

“Unicorn,” Elodie interjected.

With a laugh, Lady Eugenie responded, “No, not a unicorn! I was going to say an impossible feat.”

Elodie grinned. “Perhaps it does seem impossible at times, but I do not believe that is the case. Somewhere out there, I truly believe there is one person meant for us. A person who speaks to our soul, who understands us in ways no one else can.”

“That sounds positively romantic,” Lady Eugenie said.

Before Elodie could respond, Lord Westcott spoke up. “Romantic, yes,” he started, his voice laced with skepticism. “But also terribly idealistic. Love is a sentiment often found in novels and poetry, not in drawing rooms and ballrooms of the ton .”

Elodie met his gaze. “But is that not the beauty of it, my lord? It is precisely because love is so rare that it is worth pursuing.”

“And if you cannot find love?” he asked. “Would you remain unwed rather than settle for a match of convenience?”

“Yes,” Elodie said without hesitation. “I would rather be alone than with someone who does not understand my heart.”

Lady Eugenie’s eyes shone with admiration. “That is incredibly brave.”

“Or incredibly foolish,” Lord Westcott murmured.

Elodie’s gaze never wavered. “Perhaps a little of both. But I refuse to believe that love is just a fantasy, something we read about in books and never experience ourselves. I have seen it, so I know it exists.”

The carriage rolled gently to a stop, signaling their arrival at Rotten Row. The chatter of people, the rhythmic clopping of hooves, and the hum of laughter drifted into the carriage as Lord Westcott said, “I must admit, your optimism is unexpected. In a world where most women would gladly secure a suitable match, you dare to ask for more.”

Elodie knew how ridiculous she must sound to Lord Westcott, but she did not care. She would not settle for anything less than a love match. “That is because I know I deserve more,” she said. “And I am willing to wait for it.”

Lord Westcott held her gaze for a moment, something shifting in his eyes—perhaps respect, or a touch of envy. Then he offered a genuine smile that reached his eyes. “I do hope you find it, Lady Elodie. I truly do.”

“Thank you,” Elodie replied.

Just as she wasbeginning to relax, enjoying the lazy sway of the carriage, an image of Anthony flashed through her mind. The thought caught her off guard, and she quickly banished it from her mind. Why was she thinking of him now? It was maddening the way Anthony seemed to invade her thoughts at the most unexpected moments, lingering there like a shadow that refused to be chased away.

“Anthony!”

Anthony looked up from his ledger at the sound of his brother’s voice echoing through the corridor. He had no sooner closed the ledger than Stephen stormed into the study, his face twisted with rage.

“What have you done?” Stephen demanded.

Anthony held his brother’s gaze calmly, unbothered by his anger. “Would you care to be more specific?”

Stephen marched closer, slamming his hands down on the desk as he leaned over it. “I just came from meeting with Father. He informed me, in no uncertain terms, that my allowance would be cut off if I did not do the right thing by that girl.”

Leaning back in his seat, Anthony asked, “And what exactly do you expect me to do about it?”

“This is all your doing!” Stephen shouted, pointing an accusatory finger. “I know you were the one who put these ideas into his head.”

“So what if I did?”

“You have gone too far this time!” Stephen shouted. “You have been trying to get me to meet that girl for days now.”

Anthony’s tone sharpened as he stood. “That girl is your daughter.”

Stephen waved a dismissive hand. “I do not acknowledge her, nor should you.”

“Why wouldn’t I acknowledge her?” Anthony asked. “You were legally married to her mother, making the child legitimate.”

Stephen scoffed. “I should have realized that you wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Anthony demanded. “Understand how you have shirked your responsibilities with Emma or how you abandoned your wife, leaving her penniless?”

“I told you that I didn’t think the marriage was legal,” Stephen said, dropping down onto the chair. “That is hardly my fault for the misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?” Anthony’s voice rose, his patience fraying. “This was not a misunderstanding. It was a scheme. You took advantage of her trust, abandoned her, and now refuse to face the consequences of your actions.”

Stephen’s face contorted with irritation. “And now you and Father want to punish me for not wanting her here.”

Anthony took a steadying breath, reminding himself to remain calm. “Father is giving you a choice. Do the right thing or go about it all on your own.”

Stephen shoved his chair back and stood, his face dark with anger. “I knew this would happen. You have always been quick to judge me, standing on your moral high ground. I will never be the golden boy. I am not the heir. I am simply the second son, the one no one ever expected anything from.”

Anthony frowned. “Are you truly blaming your behavior on your position in the family?”

Stephen’s expression grew defiant. “It is not an excuse. It is the truth! Growing up in your shadow, I was always a disappointment. So I stopped caring. Stopped trying.”

“You have made your choices,” Anthony said, frustration threading his voice. “Your position is not an excuse for abandoning your responsibilities.”

Stephen jabbed a finger at Anthony. “You do not get to dictate my life. I am my own man.” Anthony had finally reached his limit. “If that is true, then start acting like it. Be a man for once. Meet your daughter. It is a simple request.”

His brother laughed, a bitter sound. “You mean so you and Father can feel like you did your part by making me do the ‘right thing’? Spare me.”

Anthony stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I fully support Father’s decision. If you cannot meet her, do not expect to receive another penny. Emma is your daughter, whether you like it or not.”

Stephen’s nostrils flared as he glared at him. “You would not dare cut me off. I am owed that money.”

“You are owed nothing. As you so often remind me, I am the heir. And if you do not take responsibility, I will see to it that you face the consequences.”

A dangerous glint appeared in Stephen’s eyes as he leaned closer, their faces just inches apart. “You think you are better than me, do you not?”

Anthony did not waver. “I have never thought that. But if you cannot be bothered to walk down the hall and acknowledge your own daughter, then you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“This is not over!” Stephen said, taking a step back. “Do not think for a moment that you have won.”

Their mother’s voice came from the doorway. “Good heavens, what is all this shouting about?”

Stephen turned his attention towards their mother. “Will you kindly tell this arrogant, pig-headed brother of mine that I do not answer to him?”

She cast a worried glance between her sons, her features creased with concern. “Perhaps we should all sit down and discuss this rationally.”

“Good gads, no! I want nothing to do with Anthony!” Stephen exclaimed. “I am going out, and do not wait up for me!”

Anthony watched Stephen storm out, the door slamming behind him. He had known the conversation would be difficult, but the depth of Stephen’s resentment unsettled him.

After a moment’s pause, his mother stepped further into the room. “I must assume the argument was about Emma.”

“It was,” Anthony confirmed. “All I can hope is that someday Stephen will come to his senses… before it is too late.”

With a quiet sigh, she walked over to the drink cart and poured two drinks. She handed him one with a look that held understanding. Catching the surprised expression on his face, she managed a small, resigned smile. “There is no harm in a drink or two, given the circumstances.”

Anthony took a seat on the settee, rubbing a hand over his face. “What are we going to do about Stephen?” he asked, almost to himself.

His mother lowered herself gracefully onto the armchair across from him. “I do believe your father is serious about cutting Stephen off. But even if we somehow convince him to meet Emma, what then?” she asked, her voice heavy. “Do you truly think he will care for her the way she deserves?”

Anthony looked down into his glass, mulling over his words. “There is a real possibility,” he began slowly, “that I will be raising her instead.”

His mother’s eyes glistened as she took a sip of her drink. “Yes, Anthony. I believe you might be. And Emma would be lucky for it.”

“I do not know about being lucky,” Anthony said. “I know nothing about raising a child.”

“You will learn.”

Anthony took a sip of his drink. “I daresay that this is too much. What with Father sick and me running the estate. I hardly have time for anything else.”

“Life has a way of working itself out,” his mother said. “You will see. Just be patient.”

He opened his mouth to complain, but then he saw the sadness in his mother’s eyes. He may be tired, but his mother was dealing with much more. Her husband was dying right in front of her eyes and there was nothing she could do about it.

“How are you faring, Mother?” he asked.

A small, unconvincing smile came to her lips. “I am well.”

“I would prefer the truth, if you don’t mind.”

The smile disappeared and she lowered her gaze. “I don’t know what I will do without your father. He has been, and always will be, my entire world.”

Anthony moved to sit on the edge of his seat. “You will get along just fine without him,” he encouraged.

“I may get by, but I will not be fine,” his mother asserted. “We have been together far too long to think about a life without him.”

He felt helpless as a tear fell down his mother's cheek. She swiped it away and rose. “I need to get back to your father.”

Anthony rose. “Would you care for me to accompany you?”

Placing the glass down, she replied, “No, I think I need a moment alone before I face your father.”

“I will be up shortly to visit with Father.”

“Give him some time,” his mother said. “His visit with Stephen overwhelmed him and I have no doubt he is resting.”

Anthony walked over to his mother and embraced her. “No matter what happens, I will ensure you are well provided for.”

She leaned back and cupped his cheek. “I know, Son.”

As she walked off, Anthony returned to his desk and opened the ledger. He might as well get some more work done before dinner.

The sound of barking floated through the room, pulling Anthony’s attention towards the window. He peered outside to see Spot and Lulu bouncing around Emma, their tiny tails wagging as they jumped up on her. Emma’s laughter rang out as she tried to calm the puppies, her small hands gently pushing them down. Anthony’s heart tightened at the sight. How could Stephen abandon this innocent child?

The accounts could wait. Closing his ledger, he made his way out the back door and crossed the gardens. He approached Emma and noticed her determined expression as she commanded, “Sit!”

Anthony crouched beside her. “How are Spot and Lulu doing today?”

A small pout formed on Emma’s lips. “They won’t listen to me,” she replied.

“What are you trying to tell them?”

“I’m trying to teach them how to sit,” Emma shared, looking at the puppies. “But they keep jumping up on me.”

Anthony stifled a smile. “Do you have any treats with you?”

Emma’s brows knitted in confusion, and she shook her head. “No… I did not know I needed any.”

“Well, I have found that puppies, much like people, are motivated by food,” he said. “If you bring a little something from the kitchen, they might be more inclined to follow your commands.”

Her eyes sparkled at the idea. “I can get some treats from the kitchen.”

Anthony reached down and ruffled the fur on Spot’s head as the puppies calmed down. “Once you do that, I assure you that training them to sit will be much easier.”

She offered him a shy smile. “Thank you, my lord.”

“We are family, Emma. I would prefer if you called me Anthony. Or Uncle Anthony. Whichever you would like.”

Emma looked at him with uncertainty before glancing at the nursemaid. “I was told to call you ‘my lord.’”

“That is only for people who are not family or people I do not particularly care for,” he said with a wink. “And I happen to like you very much, Emma.”

A genuine smile spread across her face, a sight that touched him deeply. “Thank you, Uncle Anthony,” she said, her voice soft. “And thank you for all the toys.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, rising to his feet. “If you ever need anything else, you need only ask.”

Elodie’s voice drifted over the gardens’ hedge, light and teasing. “Ask for a unicorn, Emma.”

Emma looked up at him with a hopeful look. “Can I get a unicorn?”

Anthony chuckled. “Unicorns, sadly, are mythical creatures. But how about a pony?”

“A real pony?” Emma inquired.

“Is there any other kind?” Anthony asked.

Emma clasped her hands together. “I have always wanted a pony, but my mother said we didn’t have room for one.”

“Well, we have plenty of space here,” Anthony assured her. “And as soon as we have everything ready, you can start your lessons.”

From over the hedge, Elodie’s laughter rang out. “That is the art of negotiation for you, Emma. You start with the impossible, and you end up getting exactly what you want.”

Anthony looked towards her, amused. “Why don’t you join us, Elodie?”

“Oh, I would not wish to intrude,” Elodie said.

“Too late for that,” he responded with a smile.

Moments later, Elodie hopped down from her perch and made her way to the small gate that divided their gardens. She opened it, stepped into Anthony’s gardens, and approached Emma. She knelt down and wrapped the girl in a warm hug. “You have done a wonderful job with these puppies, Emma,” she praised. “I have never seen puppies so happy before.”

Emma beamed. “Uncle Anthony told me that I can use treats to train the puppies to sit.”

“I would listen to your uncle,” Elodie said. “He sounds rather wise.”

Turning towards Anthony, Emma asked, “Can I go get some treats right now?”

“Of course, but be sure to grab a biscuit for yourself,” Anthony replied.

Emma dashed towards the townhouse, her nursemaid in tow. As they disappeared through the back door, Elodie turned back to Anthony. “You are very sweet with Emma.”

Anthony shrugged, a mischievous smirk on his lips. “You sound surprised. I assure you, sweetness is just one of my many talents. The ladies adore me for it.”

Elodie laughed, just as he had hoped. “Oh, is that so?” she challenged, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Well, you will have to put in a bit more effort to impress me.”

“I am well aware, Elodie,” Anthony said. His gaze lingered on her just a moment too long before he cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “Would you care to sit? It seems I have been relegated to dog-sitting duties for the time being.”

“I suppose I can spare a moment or two,” Elodie replied, moving past him towards the bench. The faint scent of lavender trailed in the air, striking him as utterly enchanting.

Elodie reached down and affectionately petted Lulu. For the briefest of moments, everything seemed perfect.