Chapter 25
Shaldon had seated his daughter so that the painted over bruise on her face was away from the Baronet’s eye. Fox saw all of that, along with the man’s intense interest in Perry. The creeping feeling that slithered along his spine could not be ignored.
Perry sat taller and shared one long glance at Fox, and then her gaze returned to her father, as if she were studiously avoiding Sir Richard.
Shaldon patted her hand and squeezed it. “Will you go down to the kitchen, my dear? Have the maid bring up a tray so you ladies may break your fast.”
Color flooded her cheeks and she rose. “Certainly, Father.”
Sir Richard’s gaze trailed her as she left and he exhaled loudly. “That is your daughter, Shaldon? Spitting image of Felici…er, her mother.”
Shaldon didn’t so much as blink, but Fox sensed a prickling in the man at hearing his dead wife’s Christian name trip off the oaf’s tongue.
Lady Jane cleared her throat and glanced at Shaldon, who seemed disinclined to take any hints, and then to Fox.
Well, he was the lowest in their noble pecking order, wasn’t he, even lower than the silent Kincaid, but hewasthe resident tenant here. He made introductions.
“Sir Richard,” Lady Jane said. “We met, many years ago, though I’m sure you do not remember.”
The man studied her. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but I don’t. Though beauty such as yours should not—”
“Don’t be silly,” she waved a small hand at him.
Not inclined to accept flattery was the lady, though Sir Richard was right—there was beauty in the contours of her face. The shallow crinkles around her eyes and mouth looked to be the marks of a truly gentle woman who smiled often and looked kindly on many. In her younger days, she wouldn’t have been a fashionable beauty perhaps, but she would have turned some heads.
An interesting face. He would have to sketch her, if she would allow it.
“It was a ball many years ago.” She pinned a clear gaze on Sir Richard. “As I recall, you left early.”
Sir Richard shifted in his chair.
Ah, so, Lady Jane was perhaps not always kind. She could also wield the velvet-clad blade of a society lady, and the fact that she’d parry and thrust with Sir Richard meant Fox’s instinct about the man was correct.
If Sir Richard but laid another long look on Perry…
“I dare say, I don’t remember,” Sir Richard said. “May I inquire how long you will grace the neighborhood with your presence, Shaldon?”
“Our plans are not certain.”
“Surely you must be back in London for the coronation. The King cannot do without you, eh?” He chuckled and sipped at his coffee.
Shaldon did not answer.
Perry and Jenny entered, both setting trays on the sideboard. Perry seated herself and Jenny served the two ladies.
“Bring a plate for Sir Richard, girl,” Lady Jane said.
Jenny ducked and bowed with proper servility—another clever woman—and did as asked.
Sir Richard ignored her, his attention thoroughly fixed on Perry. He wanted an introduction, and damn him if Fox would oblige him when it came to Perry.
“I’m hosting a bit of a fête for the local society to celebrate the coronation, for those of us who cannot attend, and I’d thought to invite Mr. Goodfellow here. But imagine the stir if the great Lord Shaldon would deign to appear?”
Was that sarcasm under that hearty bluffness?
“You are the highest-ranking neighbor around, sir, and one so frequently absent the neighbors would love to meet you, and of course, your guests, and your lovely daughter.”
“When is this event?” Lady Jane asked.
