Brixton grinned. “You are reading entirely too much into this,” he insisted. “Miss Henrietta will be thanking you.”
“In what way?”
“Until her older sister marries, no one will seriously entertain pursuing her,” Brixton said. “So, you will help alleviate her boredom while she waits for her sister to pick a suitor.”
“How exactly does it benefit me?”
“You need to burst out of your shell and become the beautiful butterfly that we both know you are,” Brixton stated, exaggerating his point by tossing his hands in the air.
Charles lifted his brow. “Are you truly comparing me to a butterfly?”
“I am,” Brixton said. “Did it help?”
“It did not.”
Brixton gave him an amused look. “Just think of Miss Henrietta as the girl who will push you back into the marriage mart.”
“I suppose your plan does have some merits.”
“It does.”
Charles chuckled. “Don’t act too surprised.”
The coach pulled to a stop in front of White’s and dipped to the side as the footman stepped off his perch. Once the door was opened, Charles stepped out and tugged on the ends of his maroon waistcoat.
Brixton came to stand next to him. “Come now. It is time for a drink and to forget our woes for a moment.”
“What woes do you have?” Charles questioned.
“Plenty,” Brixton remarked, walking towards the door.
Charles followed him inside, and they found an open table in the corner. “I haven’t been to White’s in entirely too long,” he commented after they ordered drinks.
“That is because you are busy with your antiquities company,” Brixton said.
“It is true,” he replied. “I may only be an investor, but I am allowed to access all of the antiquities that they acquire.”
“Such as?”
“They recently acquired a Nicolas Poussin painting that depicts a scene from the Bible,” Charles explained.
“I prefer Thomas Lawrence’s work.”
“Thomas Lawrence is quite popular right now, but Nicolas Poussin’s watchful eye focused on every painstaking detail, which added value to his painting,” he shared. “This is why his work was so influential to classical French art.”
Brixton yawned. “I’m sorry,” he started. “Did you say something?”
“That is not the least bit amusing.”
Leaning forward in his seat, Brixton said, “No woman will be interested in a history lesson about a dead painter.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Brixton responded. “It has been my experience that women just want to talk about things that don’t tax their minds too greatly.”
“Such as?”
“Women enjoy talking about themselves,” Brixton said as a server placed a drink in front of him. “Just nod and smile as they regale you with stories about their hats and ribbons.”
