‘I don’t wish to buy a horse,’ declared Tyneham, a little flustered. He had expected Rothley to understand instantly why he might want words with him, and be evasive but not bored, and his lordship sounded distinctly bored. ‘It is a more delicate matter.’
‘If you had your eye on the fair Hyacinthe at the opera, let me tell you she is damnably expensive and way above my touch, whatever rumour may have to the contrary.’ He sighed. ‘I think I only have to look at a woman and the gossip begins. It is amazing how easy it is for some people to assume that the vices of the father are those of the son.’ The voice had hardened. ‘Besides, I am not a man for flaxen beauties.’
This last was said looking Tyneham straight in the eye.
‘No, my lord, perhaps you are not. Let us say that certain darker ladies are also outside your … scope.’
‘Do you really think so, Tyneham?’ Lord Rothley raised a quizzical eyebrow, and regarded the increasingly choleric peer sardonically.
‘I would have you know that I consider any acquaintanceship between you and my sister repellent, and my cousin, Lady Sophronia Hadlow is as good as betrothed.’
‘You do of course have a say in whom your sister meets on terms of friendship, though sadly you clearly have no control over her behaviour.’ Lord Rothley ignored the implication about Lady Sophy and the viscount.
‘And where do you think she gets her waywardness?’ Tyneham ground his teeth.
‘Oh, I think we both know the answer to that, don’t we,’ Rothley said, and though there was a smile upon his lip, his eyes glittered. ‘However, had it been dealt with when she was younger, there would not now be the need for someone to take her in hand.’
‘It shall not be you, Rothley.’
‘I regret that since you have clearly done nothing, it is me, will be me. You see, I do understand fraternal responsibility.’
‘Good God, you would tell her!’
‘No, and for heaven’s sake keep your voice down, you fool. I would not tell her at this juncture, but leaving her as a burden upon Lady Sophy and watching from the wings as the chit sets all and sundry on end is not the action of a brother, even, Tyneham, a half-brother.’ He let Tyneham digest this information before continuing. ‘As for Lady Sophy …’
‘Her name is Sophronia,’ Lord Tyneham interjected, most put out, and increasingly flushed of cheek.
‘Yes, and one can perfectly understand why she abhors it.’
‘But—’
‘I take it that “as good as betrothed” means you mean to make her an offer?’ Lord Rothley laughed, softly. ‘If you think that Lady Sophy is yours for the asking then you are deluding yourself. She will refuse you, Tyneham.’
‘You cannot possibly know that.’
‘Ah, but I can. You are far too great a prosy bore, and not nearly tall enough for her.’
‘Unlike you?’
‘Now you mention it, unlike me, though I am not sure she may not dream of an even taller lover.’
‘Lover. How dare you!’
Rothley’s eyes gleamed.
‘One who loves, Tyneham. What were you imagining?’
Lord Tyneham’s flush of anger became a scarlet blush of embarrassment.
‘I don’t have to listen to this.’
‘No. The simplest expedient would therefore be to go away. I was really rather interested in that article on … the increase in agricultural labour force since the Peace.’
Lord Rothley was quite deliberately insulting. Short of making a very unpleasant and public scene, Tyneham had no course but to withdraw, fuming. He could not see that Rothley was doing likewise beneath the cool exterior.
Tyneham had abrogated responsibility for his sister, and although he knew she was his half-sister that responsibility existed. He was thus leaving his cousin to deal with the problem. Without revealing facts of which Susan Tyneham and her cousins were unaware, Lord Rothley wanted to help, and he would not be kept at a distance by a prig like Tyneham.
Whilst he told himself it was the least he could do for a young woman as close to him as she was to her acknowledged brother, by blood, and in part to make up for his father’s failings, he knew that his prime reason was to lift the burden from Sophy Hadlow because … He smiled, wryly, to himself. ‘Love’ was a word so often used and so little understood. He had never anticipated that love would feel this way, or be so damnably difficult. If he had thought about it at all it had been a vague assumption that it would be a mixture of physical desire and happiness on both sides. The desire was certainly there for his part, and that indefinable glow of happiness which erupted into flame when near her, but she held him off even as her eyes told him that his feelings were reciprocated. There were unguarded moments when he no more doubted her affection than that the sun would rise in the morning, and then the veil would come down and she would withdraw, unwillingly, he thought, but determinedly. He was almost sure that she did not know of Susan’s paternity, and even if she did, he saw no reason why it should preclude her accepting him, so his love was surely keeping him at a distance because she had heard that his line were predatory, and feared his motives? Damn his father.
