“Yes. I am happy you understand. Nothing against you, my lord, but he will know how to take a firm hand with my daughter. He is due to arrive in Town later next week.” Banks fiddled with his watch, opening and closing it. “The problem, Stanstead, is that you’re too dashing.”
Rupert’s lips tugged up, and he fought the urge to grin. “I’m afraid I have no control over that. I will, however, promise that I will not attempt to court your daughter.”
“This must remain between the two of us.” Banks had lowered his voice. “If my wife discovered I’ve spoken to you . . . The thing is, I haven’t told her about my choice yet.”
Rupert assumed a suitably grave demeanor. It wouldn’t do for his lordship to think he found the situation humorous, and he knew exactly how demanding wives could be, even the best of them. “I understand, my lord. From what I have seen, daughters can be the very devil.”
“Indeed, indeed, they are. On the other hand, except for bringing them out, they aren’t as expensive as sons. I’ve got enough of them as well. I never have to worry about the girls getting picked up by the watch, or getting into dun territory. Now then”—Banks flipped open his pocket watch—“I believe I can help you muster enough support for your bill providing aid for the war veterans.”
Which was the only thing Rupert wanted from the man. “Excellent.” He linked arms with Lord Banks. Being seen in close conversation with him and on good terms could only help Rupert gain support. “Shall we go in? It looks as if the meeting is about to start.”
Several hours later, Robert and Rupert accompanied Edward Malfrey, Marcus Evesham, and their friends Rutherford, and Harry Marsh, a member of parliament, to Brooks’s.
As they strolled down the street, Rupert turned to his father. “I thought we were going to your house for luncheon.”
“We were until I realized it is your mother’s at home day.”
He certainly didn’t wish to face a bevy of ladies, especially after the promise he’d made Banks. “I see. The club is a much better option.”
If Rupert had known he would meet Vivian, he never would have complained to his mother. It was too late to do anything about that now. He’d just have to stay as far away from Miss Banks as possible. Most families with daughters to fire off would likely arrive on time to the entertainments. He would make it a point to arrive a bit later, but not so late he would not be able to stand up with Vivian. Better yet, he would reserve his dances with her before he arrived.
Marcus led them to their regular table in the back of the large dining room. Taking the chair next to him, Rupert asked, “I offered to escort Lady Beresford to the museum, but failed to ascertain her address. Do you think Phoebe would know?”
“Youaredesperate if you’re willing to involve my wife.” Marcus grinned. “But you don’t have to go that far; I know where she is. Lady Beresford is residing with Lady Telford at Ninety-Six Mount Street. She and my mother had a long discussion regarding the benefits of living next to a green area.”
That made perfect sense. The houses in the middle of the street were the closest to the walking path. Perhaps it was Vivian that Rupert had seen when he’d strolled through the gardens. A waiter came with a bottle of wine and took their orders.
“Thank you.” He took a sip of the club’s excellent claret. “I felt more than a little foolish for not having asked for the address.”
“I had a devil of a time discovering where to find Phoebe when I was attempting to court her. What is your interest in Lady Beresford?”
He set his wine-glass down. “I would very much enjoy getting to know her better. More than that, I cannot say.”
Not precisely the truth, but until he knew how strong his feelings were for her and if she returned his regard, that was all he was prepared to say.
Marcus nodded. “Keeping your plans to yourself will stand you in good stead.”
Rupert hoped so. He couldn’t afford to make a fool of himself yet again.
“We’re having an informal gathering on Wednesday evening with Lady Telford and her charges. Would you like to join us? All our friends are getting married so quickly, Phoebe is having to search for unmarried men to round out her numbers.”
That would kill two birds with one stone, spending time with Vivian and avoiding Miss Banks. “There is nothing I would like better.”
Cressida pretended to apply herself to her embroidery while she waited for her father to return home. Tea came and went, and he still had not returned.
When the clock chimed seven, her mother laid aside her correspondence. “It’s time to dress for dinner.”
She tucked the fabric and thread into her bag, and did her best not to show her frustration. “When will Papa be home?”
“Soon, my sweet. He is to join us for dinner.” Her mother smiled. “I am sure he’ll have good news. He can be very persuasive when he wishes to be.”
But did he wish to be? He wasn’t at all happy that she was interested in Lord Stanstead. Cressida could not bear being unwed for another Season. Most of her friends from school had married in the spring; now even Emily would soon be married. One would think Papa would have arranged a match, yet apparently he couldn’t be bothered.
“Be on time and no matter what the answer is, don’t pout or argue with him. You must show him you are mature enough to know your own mind.”
Cressida sighed. “Yes, Mama.”
“Remember, where there is a will, there is a way. I already sent a card to Lord Stanstead for our ball.”
