“Well, I suppose I’d better go down,” Arthur mumbled, half to himself and half to the valet.
Julius nodded, picking non-existent lint off Arthur’s shoulders.
“May your evening be a resounding success, your lord.”
“I certainly hope so.”
Before he could give himself time to rethink the matter, Arthur marched himself downstairs. If he could get downstairs before the guests started to arrive in earnest, then perhaps he could find himself a quiet corner, somewhere to sit unnoticed, and…
Too late.
The foyer was full of people, all of them pushing and shoving past each other to get into the vast ballroom, chattering and laughing, the noise and heat rising up like a wall.
Arthur stopped, halfway down the stairs.
Like a bad dream, the guests’ heads turned slowly to face him, the chatter dwindling away.
He could almost feel their gazes running over him like a tide of spiders, taking in every detail. He was glad he’d let Julius do his best with his clothes tonight. Aside from the scar, he’d look like a perfectly passable Lord Lanwood.
The moment passed. The guests kept moving. It wasn’t as if they could come stampeding up the stairs to greet him, certainly not if they hadn’t been introduced. No doubt his mother would want to introduce him to plenty of people, and others would find a way to get introduced.
He reached the foot of the stairs and plunged into the crowd before he had the chance to change his mind. The crowd thinned out a little once the hallway gave way to the wide ballroom, but as more and more guests arrived, what little space there was would disappear.
He couldn’t see Beatrice, nor Lucy. Thomas and his sister, Susan, were meant to be here tonight, but he’d never find them in this crowd. Perhaps if he’d allowed himself to be introduced to the Thornhills, he would have at leastonefriendly face in the crowd. At least nobody was trying to talk to him yet, although plenty of people were staring.
On cue, as if he’d summoned it, a heavy hand came clapping down on his shoulder, making him jump and stagger forward.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the brand-new Lord Lanwood,” came a deep, familiar voice. He didn’t have to look to know that the speaker was grinning smugly.
“Lord Vincent Griffin, what a surprise to find you here,” Arthur responded, keeping his composure as best he could. “I thought you were in London.”
“A man likes a taste of the countryside every now and then. And what do you mean, you’re surprised to see me here? It’s a fine lord who doesn’t know who’s invited to his own home. Do you let that mamma of yours manage your affairs?”
Arthur bristled, jerking his shoulder out from under Lord Vincent’s grip, turning to glare at him.
Lord Vincent was often described as a dizzyingly handsome man. He had large blue eyes with long black lashes, smooth cheeks, and thick and well-styled black hair, and daintily arched eyebrows. He managed all of this without seeming like adandy, or even too fashionable. He always wore a wide smile, one that never quite met his eyes if a person looked long enough.
Arthur and he had gone to Eton together. They were not friends.
Lord Vincent grinned at Arthur’s baleful expression, taking a long sip of his champagne. “Decent stuff, this,” he said, holding up the glass. “And what a fine house. I’d never have thoughtyouwould make a fine lord of the manor, Arthur. Or would you preferLord Lanwood?”
“I don’t much care what you call me,” Arthur responded.
Lord Vincent only smiled wider, gaze flicking over Arthur’s scarred face. Arthur fought not to flinch.
“How’s that old wound of yours? I declare, the scar seems to get worse every time I see you.”
“Thank you,” Arthur responded sardonically. “What a kind thing to say.”
“Oh, don’t be so prickly. It doesn’t suit you to be vain, Arthur. I must say, I wouldn’t have thought a soiree like this would be to your taste.”
He drained the last of his champagne, watching Arthur over the rim.
“An earl is expected to entertain,” Arthur managed, getting a tight smile in response.
“Hm. No doubt, no doubt. Now, I hear you have a Miss Thornhill staying with you?”
A prickle ran up and down Arthur’s spine. “What of it? Are you acquainted with her?”
