Page 8 of A Lady’s Mishap (The Lockwood Family #5)

8

E lodie felt a strange stirring deep within her as she watched Anthony walk away. But what it meant, she could not say. It was as if her heart were softening towards Anthony. Which was ridiculous. She harbored no feelings for that infuriating man. It must have been sympathy for his current plight, nothing more. That had to be it.

Crouching down, she petted the puppies, who eagerly licked her hand with wild enthusiasm. Anthony had been thoughtful to keep Lulu for her. She had always wanted a pet, and now, in a way, she had one.

The back door to her townhouse opened and Mattie stepped out, her eyes widening at the sight of the puppies.

“Where did you get those puppies?” Mattie asked, rushing forward to kneel beside them.

Elodie moved to sit on the bench. “Anthony brought them over,” she revealed. “They are for his niece, Miss Emma.”

“Both of them?”

“Well, he is keeping the silver-haired puppy for me.”

Mattie looked up, surprised. “For you?”

“Yes. My father would never allow a puppy inside our townhouse so Anthony will keep Lulu for me,” Elodie added.

“Interesting,” Mattie murmured.

Elodie picked up Lulu and placed him on her lap. “It is not interesting. I have always wanted a dog, and Anthony was kind enough to get one for me.”

Mattie sat beside her on the bench. “Do you not think it is a little odd that Lord Belview will be raising your dog?”

“Well, it is not like I could keep Lulu here,” Elodie pointed out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“True,” Mattie agreed, “but it does mean you will be seeing more of Lord Belview. Is that what you want?”

Elodie shrugged. “It is not an ideal situation, but I am not opposed.”

Mattie laughed as she scratched behind Lulu’s ear. “He is rather cute.”

“I am thinking of making outfits for him,” Elodie said. “A little hat would look adorable on his head, don’t you think?”

“That would require you to work on your embroidery skills.”

Elodie placed the squirming puppy onto the ground. “That is true, but it is a sacrifice I am willing to make for Lulu.”

Mattie shifted on the bench towards her, her expression becoming more serious. “I hate to change the subject, but there is something you should know.”

“Which is?”

“Your mother wants to speak with you,” Mattie shared. “I overheard her telling Winston how displeased she was by your antics earlier.”

Elodie groaned. “I suppose I went too far with that comment about dabbling in the dark arts.”

“The dark arts?” Mattie asked, amused.

“It sounded ominous.”

Mattie shook her head. “Careful, you do not want to be branded as a witch.”

“Witches aren’t real, but if they were,” Elodie declared confidently, “I would most definitely be best friends with one. I would help her cast spells.”

“I doubt your family would let you be friends with a witch.”

“They would never know. I would cast an invisibility spell on myself,” Elodie quipped. “I could come and go as I please, and they would be none the wiser.”

Mattie laughed. “That is genius.”

Rising, Elodie dusted off her gown. “I suppose I should get this conversation with my mother over with.”

“That is the spirit,” Mattie teased as she stood as well.

Linking arms with Mattie as they walked back towards the townhouse, Elodie sighed. “I have missed you.”

“I am right here,” Mattie replied.

“You say that, but you are always so busy with Winston.”

Mattie grinned. “I am his wife, after all.”

“And for that, I am grateful,” Elodie said. “Winston is happier than I have ever seen him.”

A footman opened the back door for them, allowing them to step into the corridor. Mattie lowered her voice as they walked. “Are you happy?”

“Of course I am,” Elodie responded quickly.

Mattie studied her closely. “I know that being hailed as the diamond of the Season is an utter nightmare for you.”

“It is true, but I have made peace with it.”

Mattie didn’t seem convinced, but thankfully, she let it go. “All right. You can lie to me and yourself, but when you are ready to talk, I will be here.”

Elodie patted Mattie’s hand, grateful for her friendship. “Thank you, but I will be fine. I have mastered the art of fake smiles for when I must entertain callers.”

“Show me.”

Mustering her best smile, Elodie lifted her chin. “Do you see? Perfect, no?”

Mattie frowned. “It looks like you are in pain.”

“No, this is a smile,” Elodie insisted, pointing at her lips.

“I am sorry, but it is hardly convincing.”

Elodie dropped her smile. “You don’t need to worry about me. I would prefer if you just focused on how happy you and Winston are.”

“That is not how friendship works,” Mattie said.

Before Elodie could respond, her mother appeared at the other end of the corridor, her brow creased in displeasure. “Elodie, we need to talk.”

“We are talking,” Elodie attempted.

“Alone,” her mother said.

Mattie took a step back, giving Elodie a sympathetic look. “I believe that is my cue to leave,” she said, excusing herself.

As Mattie walked away, Lady Dallington crossed her arms over her chest. “The dark arts? Truly, Child?”

Elodie offered a small shrug. “I was trying to be amusing.”

“Perhaps we can work on humor that isn’t so controversial,” her mother responded. “You know what your father would say about this.”

Elodie straightened and mimicked her father’s stern voice. “‘Young women are not to have any true opinions.’”

Her mother uncrossed her arms. “Your father doesn’t truly believe his own words. He is just trying to goad you into an argument, and most of the time, it works.”

“I promise I will not bring up the dark arts again,” Elodie said.

“Thank you.”

Elodie went to pass by her mother, but her mother stepped directly in front of her, blocking her path. “Lord Westcott is in the drawing room waiting for you,” she informed her. “I expect you to be on your best behavior, and please, for heaven’s sake, do not frighten him off.”

“If a gentleman is so easily frightened by a single conversation with me, is he truly the right person for me?”

Some of the tension drained out of her mother’s shoulders. “Let’s play a game this time, shall we? When Lord Westcott asks you a question, you will say the second thing that comes to mind, not the first.”

Elodie couldn’t help but grin. Her mother was genuinely trying to help her. “All right. I will agree to that.”

“Good,” her mother said. “Now, let us go greet Lord Westcott.”

Elodie followed her mother into the drawing room, where the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Lord Westcott stood by the hearth. He was not unattractive—his dark hair framed his face nicely—but he was not as handsome as Anthony. The thought of Anthony popped into her mind suddenly, surprising her. She quickly shook it off.

As soon as Lord Westcott saw her, he stepped forward and bowed. “Lady Elodie, thank you for seeing me.”

She curtsied in return. “It is my pleasure, my lord.”

A warm smile spread across his face, though it was slightly awkward, as if he were not used to smiling so much. “You look beautiful,” he said. “Truly a vision of perfection.”

Elodie could hear the sincerity in his voice and knew that he was not attempting false flattery. “You are most kind.” She gestured towards the settees. “Would you care to sit?”

“I would, thank you,” Lord Westcott replied, settling into a chair opposite Elodie and her mother, his awkward but endearing smile still lingering on his face.

Elodie decided to stick to polite conversation topics to appease her mother. “It is a lovely day, is it not?”

“Yes, I even caught a glimpse of the sun peeking through the clouds for a brief moment.”

“What a remarkable feat for the sun, don’t you think?” Elodie joked.

Lord Westcott grinned. “Quite an accomplishment, yes.”

Elodie caught her mother’s glance towards the tea tray and took the hint. She reached for the teapot and asked, “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

He patted his stomach. “None for me, I’m afraid,” he replied. “I have had far too much tea today.”

Leaning back, Elodie teased, “You don’t sound very British, declining tea like that.”

Lord Westcott’s eyes held a glint of amusement. “Perhaps not, but I do believe my ancient British title proves otherwise.”

“You make a fine point, my lord,” Elodie responded, feeling herself relax in his presence. There was something disarmingly genuine about him.

He leaned forward, his tone turning playful. “I have heard that you dabble in the dark arts,” Lord Westcott remarked with a smirk on his lips.

“I see that you have spoken to Lord Danbury or Mr. Thomas.”

“They were rather vocal about their meeting with you today at the club,” Lord Westcott said. “But do not worry, most of the gentlemen did not pay them much heed.”

“That is good because, in truth, I do not even know what the dark arts are.”

Lord Westcott settled back in his seat. “I suspected as much because I think the first rule of practicing the dark arts is that you don’t talk about the dark arts.”

Elodie did one thing that she never thought she would do with any gentleman. She picked up the plate of biscuits. “Would you care to have a biscuit?”

“You have discovered the quickest way to my heart, my lady,” Lord Westcott replied as he selected a biscuit.

Placing the plate down, Elodie asked, “Did you attend university?”

“I did,” he replied proudly. “I went to Cambridge and studied psychology, though it has not been of much use running my estate.”

“Not at all?”

Lord Westcott’s lips twitched. “No, not once, actually. I should have studied something far more practical.”

Elodie gave him a knowing look. “At least you had the good fortune to attend university.”

“I was very fortunate indeed.” Lord Westcott paused and shifted in his seat. “I hope I am not being too presumptuous, but would you care to join me for a carriage ride through Hyde Park tomorrow?”

The most extraordinary thing happened. Elodie found that she was not entirely repulsed by the idea of spending more time with Lord Westcott. “I would greatly enjoy that,” she said.

A wide smile came to Lord Westcott’s lips. “I am glad to hear that. Now that I have asked, I can finally relax.”

“Are there any other pressing questions I can answer for you?” Elodie joked.

Lord Westcott’s grin broadened. “Just that one. It was a very important question, after all.”

Elodie had to admit there were worse ways to spend one’s afternoon than with a man who seemed to genuinely enjoy her company.

Anthony stood outside of his father’s bedchamber door feeling a knot of apprehension tightening in his chest. He did not know what to expect when he stepped inside. Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly.

The door opened promptly, and Randall, his father’s ever-faithful valet, greeted him with a quiet, “My lord, do come in.”

Anthony stepped into the room and saw his father was propped up in bed, his back supported by a mound of pillows. Despite his silver hair being slightly tousled, his father’s color looked better than Anthony had anticipated.

“My son!” His father’s voice was cheerful, and he opened his arms wide in welcome. “Come closer so that I may see you properly.”

Randall swiftly positioned a chair beside the bed and took a step back.

Anthony sat down and managed a smile. “You are looking well, Father.”

His father chuckled, though the sound was a bit wheezy. “Oh, pish-posh. I look old, and I know it. But I am grateful I survived that wretched carriage ride.”

Anthony leaned forward, his brow furrowing. “Why did you even come? You should have stayed at the estate to rest.”

His father’s eyes crinkled around the edges. “Because, if your letter is to be believed, I have a granddaughter. That is not something a man can ignore.”

Anthony sighed deeply. “But you should have considered your health?—”

“You are starting to sound like your mother,” his father interrupted with a wave of his hand. “I want to meet my granddaughter before I die.”

“You are not going to die anytime soon.”

“Let’s hope not.”

Anthony settled back in his chair. “What are you going to do about Stephen? He still hasn’t met Emma.”

A frown creased his father’s brow, and he glanced up at the ceiling as if searching for answers. “I don’t know what can be done. We can’t force him to do the right thing.”

“We could cut off his allowance,” Anthony suggested.

“What would that accomplish?” his father asked. “He would meet Emma once, then cast her aside just as easily. It is not a solution.”

Frustration flared in Anthony’s chest. “But Stephen is spending recklessly. If we do not curtail his habits, he could ruin us in time.”

“The estate can handle his spending.”

“For now,” Anthony pressed. “But you must consider the future. I know you have a soft spot for Stephen, but you cannot neglect what is best for the estate or for me.”

His father considered Anthony’s words for a long moment before finally nodding. “You have done an admirable job managing things in my absence. I trust you will do what is best for both you and Stephen.”

“Thank you, Father.”

The door opened and his mother stepped into the room, her sharp gaze settling on Anthony. “I thought I might find you here.” Her expression softened as she turned to her husband. “How are you feeling after your rest?”

“I am going to live another day,” his father quipped with a wink.

His mother smiled, the love between them evident in the quiet look they exchanged. “That is good, considering I am rather fond of you.”

Anthony spoke up. “I must assume that Mother is eager to meet Emma.”

“Is it so obvious?” his mother asked with a small laugh.

His father swung his legs over the side of the bed, tossing off the covers. “I will come with you,” he announced as Randall rushed to his side, assisting him to his feet.

“Are you sure that is wise?” Anthony asked.

“Perhaps not, but I did not travel all this way to delay meeting my granddaughter,” his father asserted.

Anthony went to offer his father his arm. “At least allow me to assist you to the nursery.”

His father accepted his arm, leaning heavily into him. “Thank you, my boy.”

As they moved down the corridor at a slow pace, Anthony shared, “I acquired a puppy for Emma. A Dalmatian, to be exact.”

His mother’s eyes lit up. “What a splendid idea. A puppy will be wonderful for her.”

They paused so his father could catch his breath as Anthony said, “I am hoping the puppy will help Emma feel more comfortable around me. She is still very shy.”

The sound of barking echoed down the hall, and his mother raised a bemused eyebrow. “Am I mistaken, or do I hear two dogs?”

“I may have acquired two puppies,” Anthony admitted. “One is for Emma and the other one is for Lady Elodie. Her father won’t allow her to keep it, so it is staying with me.”

His mother’s expression shifted to one of mild curiosity. “Do you have an understanding with Elodie?”

“No,” Anthony said with a shake of his head. “We are friends. Or at least I hope we are. I never quite know where I stand with Elodie.”

“Yet you bought her a dog,” his mother pointed out.

“It was merely a friendly gesture,” Anthony said.

“Most gentlemen buy flowers, not puppies,” his mother teased.

His father let out a raspy chuckle. “Leave the poor boy alone. If he wants to buy a young woman a dog, it is his right to do so.”

With a knowing smile, his mother said, “I simply adore Elodie. You could do far worse than her.”

“Mother…” Anthony started, already suspecting the path this conversation would take.

She laughed. “That is all I will say on the matter… unless, of course, you ask for more.”

They continued down the corridor towards the nursery, the faint sound of giggles drifting through the air. When they reached the door, Anthony stepped ahead, gently opening it and standing aside as his parents passed by.

Inside, Emma sat on the floor, surrounded by the two playful puppies. Her smile was bright, a clear sign of the happiness the dogs had brought her. The nursemaid, who had been keeping watch from a chair in the corner, gave a polite bow and retreated slightly, allowing the family their moment.

Anthony crouched next to Emma. “Hello, Emma,” he greeted. “Have you named your puppy yet?”

Emma’s smile faltered for just a moment as she looked at Anthony, but it did not fade completely. “His name is Spot.”

“Spot, hmm?” Anthony repeated, pretending to consider the name as he picked up the wriggling pup. “He certainly does have a lot of spots for a dog. I do believe Spot is a perfect name for him.”

His mother lowered herself gracefully to sit on the floor with Emma, her voice warm and gentle. “Hello, my dear. I am your grandmother.”

Emma studied her with cautious eyes before asking, “Did you know my mother?”

“No,” his mother replied. “I did not have the privilege of meeting her, but I am sure I would have liked her very much.”

“My mother was really sick, and then she died,” Emma shared.

His mother’s face softened with compassion. “I know, and I am so very sorry about that.”

Just then, the puppies began to tumble over one another, playfully nipping at Emma’s hands, drawing a bright giggle from her. “These dogs are silly.”

Anthony realized that this was the most Emma had spoken since arriving, and he had no doubt the puppies were helping her to open up.

Pointing at the silver-haired puppy, Emma said, “That one is named Lulu. He is Spot’s brother, but they don’t look anything alike.”

“You are right,” Anthony responded. “We are watching Lulu for Lady Elodie. Do you remember her?”

“I do. She was nice,” Emma replied.

“Aren’t people always nice to you?” Anthony asked.

Emma shook her head, her gaze dropping. “Mr. Haupt was mean to me. He would yell at my mother.”

Anthony’s brow furrowed. “Who is Mr. Haupt?”

“He ran the factory where my mother worked,” Emma explained. “I had to be really quiet there. No talking.”

Anthony’s heart ached at the thought of what Emma must have endured. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Well, you do not need to be quiet here. We want you to talk as much as possible. How else will we know what you need?”

His father, who had been leaning heavily against the wall, watched the scene with a strained expression. Anthony quickly fetched a chair and helped his father settle into it.

Once seated, his father smiled at Emma. “You are a beautiful girl, Emma. We are so lucky to have you here with us now.”

Emma tilted her head. “Who are you?”

“I am your grandfather,” he replied.

Satisfied with the answer, Emma turned her attention back to the puppies. As a maid entered with a tray of food, the nursemaid quietly stood and gestured towards a table in the corner where the meal could be set.

His mother rose from the floor, brushing off her skirts. “We should let Emma enjoy her food.”

Anthony offered his arm to his father, helping him stand. “Perhaps tomorrow we can all take a turn in the gardens,” he suggested.

“I would like that very much,” his mother said.

The nursemaid met Emma’s gaze and gave her an encouraging look. Emma stood and curtsied deeply, her eyes darting back to the nursemaid for approval.

His mother’s eyes welled with tears. “What a charming curtsy, Emma. I hope you know you are most welcome here.”

Emma stared up at her, puzzled. “Why are you crying?”

“These are tears of joy,” she assured her, her voice thick with emotion.

“My mother only cried when she was sad,” Emma murmured.

Anthony felt a lump in his throat as he watched the exchange, realizing just how much this little girl had endured, and how desperately she needed to be loved.

After they had departed from the nursery, his mother swiped at the tears that were streaming down her face. “Emma looks just like Stephen did as a child. It is almost uncanny.”

His father’s voice grew uncharacteristically firm. “We need to ensure that Stephen does right by her.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Anthony said.