Page 4 of Introducing Mr. Winterbourne

“Mr. Freeman,” he said. “How good to see you again. May I introduce my son?”

It was only then that Adam noticed the second occupant of the room. He’d been sitting in the corner, reading a newspaper, but now he was standing and tossing his reading material aside, stepping forward with a ready smile to greet Adam.

“Lysander Winterbourne,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Freeman.”

His elegantly cut coat was dark blue, his neatly tailored waistcoat and trousers fawn. The starched white linen about his throat was tied in a complicated arrangement that somehow didn’t make him look in the least bit dandyish. He looked altogether ... perfect. The sole bit of untidiness about him was a single unruly lock of golden hair that flopped over his forehead, and even that only served to make him more appealing. He was the very picture of easy English privilege.

And looking at him made Adam’s cock stiffen uncomfortably in his breeches.

Adam had no choice but to take Winterbourne’s hand. He’d removed his gloves as he followed the butler down the corridor—he hated wearing the damn things—but now he wished he’d kept them on. He felt stupidly aware of the warmth of Winterbourne’s skin, the pleasant strength of the man’s grip.

Adam pressed his lips together and tried to lock his wayward reaction to Winterbourne away, forcing himself to give the man a curt nod.

“Winterbourne.”

Winterbourne’s smile faltered a little. Their hands fell apart, returning to their respective sides, and a brief awkward silence descended.

The earl was the first to break it. “I gather you’re going to be staying in town for a little while, Freeman?”

Adam nodded. “Till after the wedding,” he said.

“Simon thought it might be nice—if it’s not too boring for you—if Lysander showed you around Town a little. Introduced you to some more people, that sort of thing.”

The earl was smiling like a damn fool, a hopeful, ingratiating look on his face that didn’t quite mask his lingering resentment towards Adam. Adam felt like telling him in no uncertain terms that he had no wish to meet another single member of the bloody aristocracy, thank you very much, but he didn’t. Simon had pleaded with him to make the effort.

“Please try, Adam. Just this once. After the wedding, you’ll never need to bother again.”

He wasn’t entirely sure why Simon wanted him to bother now. He’d offered to stay away altogether, but for all Simon’s complaints about Adam’s scowling countenance, he seemed determined that Adam should not only be at the wedding, but that he should take a prominent part in it.

“Who else would I have stand at my side on the most important day of my life than my own brother?”

And that was all it took, apparently, for Adam to give way.

“I’m sure it won’t be boring at all,” he replied dutifully. In fact, he was quite sure it would be more boring than he could possibly imagine. He turned his attention to the son. “What did you have in mind, Mr. Winterbourne?”

The perfect English gentleman cleared his throat.

“Well,” he began, “I thought we could pay some calls this afternoon, if you’re agreeable?”

Calls. Yes, Adam remembered how well the last ones had gone, with the collected cream of Society all looking at him and Simon like a couple of talking dogs. Lovely.

He forced himself to smile. His smile was a poor thing—tight and insincere—but it was the best he could do in the circumstances. “Whatever you think, Winterbourne. I’m in your hands.”

Winterbourne’s cheeks pinked. “Ah, excellent,” he said. “I’ve—ah, also taken the liberty of asking Lady Prentice if I might take you as my guest to a ball she’s hosting this evening. She was only too happy to have another gentleman guest.”

Adam hated balls above all things. “How kind,” he said woodenly. “Thank you.”

“Well,” the earl said, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll let you two get on, then. It sounds like you’ve got lots to do.”

He couldn’t have made his eagerness to escape clearer. Irritation surged in Adam. The man had sent him a sheaf of bills totalling nine hundred and forty-two pounds yesterday, and now he was blatantly pawning Adam off on his son. And as pleased as Adam was to avoid spending more time in the man’s company, he resented being treated so poorly.

“Wait a moment,” Adam said, his tone deliberately high-handed. And quite deliberately leaving off the earl’s honorific. He refused to call the manmy lord.Bad enough that Adam was paying off the fool’s debts.

The earl halted mid-step. He did not look pleased. “Yes?”

“I received another packet of bills from you yesterday,” Adam said. “Which was something of a surprise. I thought I made it clear we were to go through everything on Monday.”

The earl’s face flamed with what looked to be mingled anger and mortification. “Well, there were a few I missed. My apologies”—he didn’t sound the least bit sorry—“I thought we had an understanding.”