Page 13 of A Lady’s Mishap (The Lockwood Family #5)

13

A fter an endless stream of gentlemen callers that afternoon, Elodie was exhausted and longed for a nap. How did anyone function without one? She had asked herself that question several times over, particularly as she endured the endless drivel coming from her suitors.

Her mother, seated beside her on the settee, patted her hand approvingly. “You did well, Dear.”

Elodie gave a weary sigh. “If I hear one more comment about the weather, I might actually die from boredom,” she muttered. “Thank heavens it is finally over.”

But no sooner had the words left her lips than White stepped into the room. “Lord Danbury and Mr. Thomas have come to call upon Lady Elodie.”

Elodie resisted the urge to groan. She wanted to send them away, but a glance at her mother told her that such a thing would never be permitted.

As she anticipated, her mother said, “Please, send them in.”

“There is no point,” Elodie whispered. “I would never consider either of these men to be my suitor.”

Her mother gave her a gentle but firm look. “We must not be rude.”

White departed, and moments later, Lord Danbury and Mr. Thomas entered, bowing in unison with murmured greetings.

Elodie forced a polite smile onto her lips. “Please, join us.”

Lord Danbury took the seat beside her and offered her a private smile. “You are looking particularly lovely this afternoon, my lady.”

“Thank you,” Elodie replied, not knowing what else she could say. Or even wanted to say. She did not want to encourage Lord Danbury.

Mr. Thomas, meanwhile, sat across from her and waggled his eyebrows. “I must agree with Lord Danbury. You are indeed looking lovely today.”

“That is kind of you,” Elodie murmured, wondering how long she would have to endure their company.

Lord Danbury settled back in his seat, his expression turning thoughtful. “As I walked here, I could not help but notice the weather. Quite lovely, is it not?”

Elodie stifled the urge to roll her eyes, knowing a lecture on her manners would surely follow if she did. She replied with mock enthusiasm, “Oh, do tell me more about the weather.”

In response, Lord Danbury gave her a baffled look. “Pardon?”

“I do so love speaking about the weather. It is my favorite,” Elodie said, feigning interest.

“Well… it was cloudy, but I did see the sun peeking through for a moment,” Lord Danbury continued.

Elodie clasped her hands together, maintaining her act. “How delightful! Such a rare and special sight in London, especially this time of year.”

Mr. Thomas seized the opportunity to contribute. “I rather enjoy the sun myself,” he said, puffing up as though he had made a profound statement.

“And what, exactly, do you enjoy about the sun?” Elodie asked.

Mr. Thomas scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose it is because it is so… bright and round.”

Elodie had to bite back a laugh, struggling to maintain her composure. Bright and round ? Did he truly think that would impress her? She kept her voice steady as she replied, “The moon is bright and round, too.”

Mr. Thomas bobbed his head. “Yes, I suppose it is. I do enjoy round balls.”

A giggle escaped her, and she quickly brought her hand up to her mouth. “My apologies. I am just delighted to know you enjoy round balls.”

Her mother shot her a warning look, swiftly intervening. “Would anyone care for a cup of tea?”

“Yes, please,” Mr. Thomas replied, seeming unruffled.

Knowing what was expected of her, Elodie retrieved the teapot, pouring tea for everyone before reclaiming her seat.

Lord Danbury took a sip of his tea and lowered the cup to his lap. “Have you finished the waistcoat that you were making for your dog?”

Elodie smiled proudly. “I have, indeed.”

He gave a slight nod, though his tone held a note of disdain. “Personally, I think it is rather foolish to put clothes on a dog. But if it amuses you, then so be it.”

“That is kind of you, but I do have other interests,” Elodie said. “Russian literature among them.”

Lord Danbury bristled. “Russian literature is far too dark and carries an overwhelming depressive tone.”

“True,” Elodie conceded. “But I find it reflects more honesty than most novels. At least, the parts I understand.”

Mr. Thomas perked up, leaning forward. “Have you read Sermons to Young Women by James Fordyce? My sister devours it.”

Elodie nodded. “I have, but I must say, I find it dreadfully dull.”

“Dull?” Mr. Thomas repeated in disbelief. “Perhaps you are not reading it correctly.”

“Ah, that must be it,” Elodie said, her tone dry. “I do tend to misread books.”

Her humor was lost on Mr. Thomas, who simply smiled. “Women’s minds are easily distracted. It is not really your fault. It is more of a weakness of the gender, would you not agree?”

Elodie tried to maintain her composure at that idiotic remark, but she felt her patience was stretched perilously thin.

Fortunately, at that precise moment, White stepped into the room and announced, “Lord Belview has come to call, my ladies.”

Relief flooded through Elodie, and a genuine smile came to her lips. “Please send him in,” she said eagerly, perhaps too eagerly.

Moments later, Anthony stepped into the room with a smile on his lips as his gaze sought out hers. She felt a sense of calm settle over her, an ease she had not realized she had been missing all afternoon.

He bowed. “Lady Dallington. Lady Elodie,” he greeted.

Elodie tipped her head. “Lord Belview.”

Anthony took a seat next to Mr. Thomas. “I fear I may have missed a riveting discussion on the fine weather we are having this Season,” he said with a wink.

“You did, my lord,” Elodie replied.

“Then I shall endeavor to introduce a topic of equal fascination,” Anthony mused. “Perhaps a detailed analysis of the state of your gardens.”

Elodie smiled into her cup as she took a sip of her tea. “I prefer if we discussed something else. Truly, any other topic would suffice.”

Anthony feigned consideration, tapping a finger against his chin. “Well, I could regale you with the latest developments in agricultural trade. Did you know the price of a bushel of hay has increased significantly? Though I suspect you might find that somewhat boresome.”

“A bushel of hay? How fascinating,” Elodie joked.

Her mother gently nudged her shoulder, a subtle reminder of her hostess duties. “Elodie, dear, will you not offer Lord Belview a cup of tea?”

“Of course,” Elodie replied, setting her teacup down and reaching gracefully for the ornate silver teapot. “Would you care for a cup of tea, my lord?”

“Yes, thank you,” Anthony said.

After she poured the tea, she extended the cup towards him, their gloved fingers brushing ever so slightly. A subtle jolt of warmth coursed through her at the contact, catching her off guard. She glanced up, searching his face for any sign he had felt it, too, but Anthony’s expression remained the same.

What was wrong with her?

Elodie quickly looked away, chiding herself silently. It was just a simple touch, hardly something to dwell on. Attempting to regain her composure, she retrieved her own teacup and took a sip.

Mr. Thomas rose from his seat, placing his empty teacup onto the tray. “Pardon me, but I must be leaving. Thank you for the tea.”

“You are most kindly welcome,” Elodie said.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on her. “Lady Elodie,” he began, “would you care to join me for a carriage ride during the fashionable hour tomorrow?”

Elodie blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Her mind raced as she searched for a reason to decline—any reason—but for once, words escaped her.

Before she could formulate a response, Anthony smoothly interjected, “Unfortunately, Lady Elodie has already agreed to accompany me tomorrow,” he said, turning to her with a small, conspiratorial smile. “Is that not right, my lady?”

“Yes… I did already commit to Lord Belview,” Elodie rushed out. “I apologize, Mr. Thomas.”

Mr. Thomas’s expression faltered, disappointment flickering across his features. “I see. Well, perhaps another day then.”

After Mr. Thomas departed from the drawing room, Lord Danbury addressed Anthony with a sly smile. “How is your brother?”

Anthony grew tense. “He is well.”

“Rumor has it that he has a child,” Lord Danbury said. “Is there any truth to that?”

Elodie noticed Anthony’s grip tighten on his teacup, his knuckles whitening. A flicker of irritation passed over his features. “That is neither here nor there,” he answered in a curt voice.

Lord Danbury’s lips curled into a knowing smirk as he pressed on. “It is a straightforward question, is it not? Though, considering your brother’s reputation as a rakehell of the highest order, it would not be surprising.”

“This is neither the time nor the place to discuss such things,” Anthony said, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Sensing the rising tension, Elodie decided to intervene. She set her cup down gently and spoke to Lord Danbury with a composed smile. “I fear that such topics are ill-suited for polite company. My delicate constitution does not favor discussions of scandal.”

“My apologies, my lady,” Lord Danbury said, though sincerity was notably absent from his tone. “I was merely attempting to make conversation.”

“Well, I do think you should work on refining your conversational skills to suit the company you keep,” Elodie suggested.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face at her candidness, quickly replaced by a frown. “I do not wish to overstay my welcome.” Rising abruptly, he placed his teacup down with a decisive clink. “Good day, my ladies. Lord Belview.”

Once he had departed, Elodie turned her attention to Anthony. “Are you all right?”

Anthony exhaled, releasing some of the tension from his shoulders. “I am, thank you. But sadly, this was not the first time I have fielded questions about Stephen today.”

She offered a sympathetic smile. “Well, I do think you could use some good news,” she said, reaching for her embroidery. “I finished the waistcoat.”

Anthony’s eyes held amusement. “Dear heavens, do I even want to see this masterpiece?”

With a flourish, Elodie held up the tiny dark blue waistcoat. “What do you think?”

He leaned in to examine it, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It is indeed… a tiny waistcoat.”

“Is it not spectacular?” Elodie asked.

Anthony chuckled. “I believe we have different definitions of ‘spectacular.’”

She traced a finger over the delicate embroidery. “I do think Lulu will love it. He will look so sophisticated.”

“Shall we find out?” Anthony asked, rising from his seat and offering his hand.

Elodie beamed. “I think that is a fine idea,” she agreed, placing her hand in his as she stood. “Though it is a shame I have not made one for Spot yet.”

“I am sure that Spot will be all right.”

Her mother rose as well. “Do not tarry too long in the gardens. I need to speak to Elodie about her questionable behavior with our guests just now.”

“Yes, Mother,” Elodie said, knowing there would be no escaping the inevitable lecture. But despite what awaited her, she felt no hint of remorse. She had defended Anthony, and she would do it again without hesitation. That is what friends do for one another.

Friend .

The word seemed to catch strangely in her mind. It felt wrong, somehow, to use that word when she thought of Anthony. There was something more there, something that made her heart race. But she pushed the thought away.

As Anthony led Elodie down the corridor, he could not help but smile, recalling the way she had so deftly put Lord Danbury in his place. He had not needed her to defend him, but the gesture was thoughtful, nonetheless.

Elodie’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You are smiling.”

“Am I?” he replied, the smile still lingering on his lips. “I was just thinking about how you brought Lord Danbury down a peg or two.”

She shrugged lightly. “That was easy. That man is a half-wit.”

“I won’t disagree with you there,” Anthony said. “But I can handle myself. You do not need to risk your reputation for me.”

Elodie looked over at him. “You would have done the same for me.”

“I would have,” Anthony said without hesitation. “In an instant.”

“Friends look out for one another, do they not?”

The word “friends” tugged at Anthony in a way that made his heart ache, but he held his tongue. Now was not the time to bring up what he truly felt. Her friendship was precious enough, though it did little to silence the longing for something more.

A footman opened the back door for them, and they stepped into the gardens. Elodie dropped her arm from his but remained close.

Anthony turned to face her. “How was your afternoon?”

Elodie huffed dramatically. “It was awful. It felt like every eligible gentleman in Town was parading through my drawing room.”

“Well, you are the diamond of the Season,” he teased.

“Yes, but must everyone remind me of it?” Elodie asked. “I daresay that most of my callers seem more interested in the title of ‘diamond’ than in me.”

“I doubt that.”

Elodie frowned. “No, it is true. I am nothing special.”

Anthony stared at her in astonishment, stepping closer until she looked up to meet his gaze. “Elodie, that is the most absurd thing I have ever heard. You are captivating, unpredictable, and beautiful. Any man would be lucky to call you his own.”

A hint of vulnerability appeared in her eyes. “Do you truly believe that?”

“With my whole heart,” Anthony replied.

She offered him a weak smile. “You are kind.”

Anthony smirked. “That is better than what I was called earlier. Montrose said Stephen and I were two of a kind.”

Elodie’s eyes went wide. “You are nothing like your brother,” she asserted. “You are one of the most honorable men I know.”

“You must not know many people,” Anthony joked.

She laughed, just as he had intended. “Ignore Montrose. He is a muttonhead.”

“Indeed,” Anthony said. “Promise me you will stay far away from that infuriating man. He is still hell-bent on marrying you.”

“Then he is in for a rude awakening. I have no desire to be known as ‘Lady Muttonhead,’” Elodie said.

Without thinking, Anthony reached out, his hand gently resting on her arm. “Thank you, Elodie. You always know precisely what to say to make me feel better.”

“That is because I know you.”

“And I you,” Anthony replied, his voice low. “In fact, I might know you better than I know myself.”

Elodie’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “That almost sounds like a challenge.”

“Not a challenge,” Anthony responded. “Just an observation. For instance, when you are happy, truly happy, the faintest dimple appears on your left cheek.”

“You have noticed that?”

Anthony nodded, holding her gaze. “I have noticed many things about you over the years.”

She bit her lower lip, and his gaze dropped, lingering on her mouth. Her perfectly formed lips. He wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her. But would she welcome it?

Just then, the sound of barking filled the air, breaking the spell. Anthony turned to see the puppies bounding through the gardens.

Elodie’s eyes lit up. “It is time for Lulu totry on his waistcoat.”

Anthony took a step back, gesturing towards the gate that connected their gardens. “After you, my lady.”

Following her through the gate, he watched as Elodie’s gaze found Emma playing nearby. She hurried over, crouching down beside the girl with a gentle smile.

“How are you, sweet Emma?” Elodie asked.

Emma grinned up at her. “I am well.”

Elodie tilted her head, her tone playful. “Have you taught the puppies any new tricks yet?”

“Not yet,” Emma responded.

Holding up the dark blue waistcoat, Elodie asked, “Do you think Lulu will like this?”

Emma giggled. “It is so tiny!”

“Well, Lulu is only a puppy,” Elodie pointed out.

Anthony stepped forward, gathering the squirming Lulu in his arms. “Shall we see if Lulu likes the waistcoat?” he asked, holding the pup out to Elodie.

Elodie carefully slipped the waistcoat over Lulu’s head and guided his little paws through the openings. Once the waistcoat was in place, Anthony set him down, and Lulu wasted no time pouncing on Spot, tail wagging wildly.

“He doesn’t seem to mind it at all,” Anthony noted.

Clasping her hands together, Elodie gushed, “Just look at him! Is he not the cutest thing?”

Elodie had barely finished speaking when Stephen staggered out of the townhouse, his sharp gaze landing on Emma. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dark crossing his face.

“Is that her?” Stephen asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

Anthony immediately moved to block his path. “Not now, Stephen. Do not do this here.” Stephen scoffed. “You wanted me to meet the chit, did you not? Well, I am here.”

“You are drunk… again,” Anthony remarked.

Stephen leaned in, his breath reeking of whiskey. “Here is a little secret for you, Brother. I am always drunk. It is the only way I can tolerate you.”

“Is this really the impression you want to leave on your daughter?”

“Does it matter?” Stephen asked, shoving past him.

Ignoring Anthony’s warning, he strode towards Emma, his gaze perusing over her with a cold, appraising look. Elodie quickly stepped behind Emma, placing a protective hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Stephen,” Elodie greeted.

He tipped his head at her in acknowledgment, then looked down at Emma. “Hello, Child. I am your father,” he announced, his tone devoid of warmth.

Emma’s gaze fell to the ground, her posture shrinking under his scrutiny.

“Look at me when I am talking to you,” Stephen barked.

Anthony rushed forward, positioning himself between his brother and Emma. “That is enough. You have met her. Now go.”

Stephen’s lips curled in disdain. “I would like to talk to my daughter, if you do not mind.”

“You are frightening her,” Anthony responded.

Stephen’s eyes flashed with irritation. “Perhaps I should buy her a puppy like you did to win her favor. Predictable, as always.”

“You made your point,” Anthony said. “Now leave.”

Taking a threatening step towards him, Stephen asked, “Why is it you think you can tell me what to do?”

Anthony held his ground, enduring the stench of his brother’s whiskey-laden breath. “You give me little choice. You will not treat her this way.”

“She is my daughter!” Stephen exclaimed, pointing at the child. “I will treat her however I see fit.”

Anthony kept his voice calm, though his patience was thinning. “No. You will treat her with respect and kindness.”

“Her mother was a whore,” Stephen declared.

Elodie gasped. “That is a terrible thing to say,” she shot back. She knelt beside Emma. “Come, Emma. Let us go inside and play.”

As Elodie led the girl away, Anthony turned back to his brother. “Was that your intention all along?”

Stephen shrugged, unbothered. “All you said was that I had to meet her. Nothing more. I do not need—or want—a child. They are useless creatures.”

Anthony stared at his brother in disbelief, struggling to comprehend Stephen’s cold-heartedness. “Fine. Do not worry about Emma. Mother and I shall see to her needs.”

His brother’s mouth twisted into a mocking smile as he shouldered past Anthony. “Finally, you are seeing reason.”

Watching Stephen stumble away, Anthony couldn’t, in good conscience, let him treat Emma so callously. The girl deserved better, and he would ensure she got it.

His mother emerged from the townhouse, pausing briefly as Stephen brushed past her with only a slight acknowledgment. She approached Anthony, a hopeful look softening her features. “I saw Stephen speaking to Emma. Did it go well?”

“What do you think?” Anthony muttered.

A frown creased her brow. “That is unfortunate news,” she said. “You will have to tell me what happened. But first, someone is here to see you.”

“Whoever it is, send him away. I am not in a mood to converse with anyone,” Anthony said.

“I would,” she responded with a hint of apprehension, “but I do not dare. He claims that Lord Winston sent him, and he is wearing a red waistcoat. I believe he may be a Bow Street Runner.”

Anthony grew solemn. “I will speak to him.”

His mother eyed him, concern in her eyes. “Why is a Bow Street Runner seeking you out, Anthony?”

“There is no need to worry yourself, Mother.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.

He offered her a reassuring smile, hoping to ease her fears. “Me? Of course not. Remember, I am the one who always follows the rules.”

His mother did not look convinced. “Very well. If you won’t tell me, then I won’t press. But do be careful, whatever it is you are involved in.”

Anthony leaned in and kissed his mother’s cheek before he headed inside. In the study, a tall, broad-shouldered man stood waiting, his stance confident and alert. Anthony shut the door, regarding the man with interest.

“You must be Grady,” he greeted.

Grady turned, giving him a polite nod. “I am. Lord Winston mentioned you are in need of my services.”

Reaching into his jacket, Anthony retrieved the crumpled letter, extending it towards the Runner. “A street urchin delivered this to my door yesterday.”

Grady read the letter before handing it back. “Who do you think could have sent this note?”

“I have no idea,” Anthony admitted.

Grady studied him carefully. “Lord Winston informed me on the situation. I understand the need for discretion, but it seems someone is intent on blackmailing you.”

Anthony walked over to the desk, dropping the note onto it. “I agree. But how do we find who wrote this letter?”

“Leave that to me,” Grady replied, moving towards the door. “I will be in contact.”

Anthony’s brows knitted in concentration. “And how do I reach you?”

Grady smirked. “You don’t. But rest assured, I will be close by.”

As the Bow Street Runner left the study, Anthony felt a mixture of hope and unease. If Grady was as capable as Winston claimed, he might be the answer they needed. However, ten thousand pounds was a substantial sum. But if it protected Elodie’s reputation, it was a price he would gladly pay.