After breakfast he went for a ride. The easy motion of the horse helped him think. Normally, Rupert would go to his father or mother for assistance, but he didn’t feel right approaching either them or his cousin. What was between Vivian and him was private. She would feel betrayed if he told anyone, and rightly so. Yet what to do? He might be able to get some measure of aid from her maid, if that’s what the older woman was.
“Stanstead!” the familiar voice hailed him.
“Beresford, well met.” Rupert waited as Vivian’s cousin by marriage rode up.
“I have a bit of a problem and was told you have a wide circle of acquaintances.”
“How can I help you?”
He listened as Beresford told him about the conversation he’d heard the night before. “Do you know how you want to handle it?”
“I initially wanted to run him through.” Beresford grinned merrily. “But I decided a longer period of suffering was called for.”
“Interesting, the fashion in which you take pleasure in another man’s pain.” On the other hand, if it was Vivian they were discussing. . . Rupert could not find it in his heart to object further. “However, I must admit, he deserves to be brought to heel.” In addition, anything that harmed Miss Corbet would distress Vivian, and he would not have that. “I have known Lord Oliver for a number of years. I can’t say that I like him. He is a gossip, doesn’t think twice about hurting the feelings of others, and, in general, has a weak personality.” Rupert urged his horse forward. “I did not know the duke was pressing him to marry. That may present an opportunity for someone who has done me a good turn or two. If you like, we may call on him now.”
“What!” Beresford uttered in amazement. “Visit a member of thetonbefore noon and on horseback? Are you sure he won’t faint or refuse to see us?”
Rupert grinned. Now that Nick wasn’t pressing Vivian to marry, he liked the man enough to count him as a friend. “Ah, there is the rub.” Rupert lowered his voice to a loud whisper. “He isnota member of theton.”
“It won’t do,” Nick replied glumly. “I’ve already promised that I wouldn’t load the cur up on a boat to India.”
If nothing else, having a conversation with Beresford was entertaining. “Not to worry. I have something much different in mind.”
They exited the Park, riding along with the early morning traffic until Rupert turned off the busier street and into Russell Square, stopping before a large white house that always reminded him of an elaborate white wedding cake. “Here we are.”
“But where are we?” Nick stared up at the edifice, his jaw dropping.
Rupert laughed. “We are in Russell Square at the home of Mr. Chawner, wool merchant, and exceedingly proud of it.”
“Let me guess. We’re going to sell Lord Oliver as slave labor? As long as he remains in England it will work. I don’t think I promised not to do that.”
“Not quite, but something close. Mr. Chawner has a daughter, who he dearly wants to marry into theton. He had her fired off a few years ago, but she didn’t take, mostly due to her lamentable habit of refusing to be ashamed of her antecedents.”
“Indeed? Sounds like a formidable young lady. Naturally, that raises the question, would she marry Lord Oliver?”
As they dismounted, a footman took their horses.
“Wait until you meet her.” Rupert pulled the bell next to the door. He too wondered what Miss Chawner would make of Lord Oliver.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The door opened and Mr. Chawner, a man of around fifty years, still fit, with steel-gray hair, stepped out. “My lord, how many times have I told you I’d be happy to wait on you in Grosvenor Square? Ain’t proper you comin’ to me.” He bowed, then took the hand Rupert offered. “Don’t know what the peerage is coming to.”
Nick had managed to close his mouth, but he continued to stare around him, much like one is tempted to when visiting Prinny’s Pavilion at Brighton.
Rupert called him to order. “Lord Beresford, may I introduce you to Mr. Chawner?”
Beresford stuck his hand out and shook Chawner’s before the older man could protest. “My pleasure, sir.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.” A speculative glimmer entered his eyes. “What kind of lord are you?”
Although the corners of Beresford’s mouth twitched, he didn’t smile. “An earl, sir.”
“Come in, come in, we’re breaking our fast. I’ll introduce you to my daughter, Maggie.”
“Thank you, we would be pleased to join you.” Rupert followed Chawner up curved marble and gilt stairs, leaving Beresford to bring up the rear. “It is Miss Chawner we have come to talk with you about. Not on Lord Beresford’s account, his affections are already engaged and we hope to have an announcement soon.”
“Who do you have in mind, my lord?”
