“So,” Lord Dalton said slowly, “you have no intention to marry?”
“Certainly not,” Daisy said. “Aside from children, and the money I do not need, what use are men?”
“When Daisy reaches her majority,” Mrs. Jellops put in, “we will go to the seaside. Brighton, we think.”
“You are already at the seaside,” Lord Dalton pointed out. “Why not stay here? I am sure my father would not mind turning over the house to you if you wish it.”
Daisy looked around at the four walls and said quietly, “This is the very last place I would stay.”
As she had looked about the room, she could not help but notice that the footmen and their butler stared at her wine glass as if they had poisoned it and waited for the effects to show themselves. She’d had enough of their sullenness.
“Further, Lord Dalton,” she said, “while it may have been kind of the duke to lend me your servants, I have a mind to give them back. If they cannot manage to hide their disgust at not being allowed to drink themselves into oblivion every night, I will show them to the road before the moon has risen much higher in the night sky.”
The shock of her words hit their mark. The footmen straightened themselves and looked off into the distance, as they should have been doing from the beginning. Bellamy’s cheeks suffused with an interesting shade of red.
Lord Dalton only laughed. “Hear that, fellows? Do not think I will rescue you if she does throw you out. It will be a long walk back to the London house.”
Now it was Daisy’s turn to blush, though she worked hard to hide it. There was something flattering about Lord Dalton utterly failing to side with Mr. Bellamy.
Before she was forced to comment, a loud banging came from the front doors. Bellamy nodded at the sound and hurried from the room, no doubt grateful to make his escape.
Daisy presumed it was the tavernkeeper having come with something he forgot, until she heard the raised voice at the door.
“Stand aside, man,” the person said. “I was a great friend to Lord Childress and have every right to pay my respects.”
Lord Dalton looked to Daisy, who shook her head no. He nodded at the two footmen and they hurried to the scene. Though Daisy had been intent on keeping Lord Dalton from directing servants who were to take their direction fromher, she was not so intent on it now.
She recognized that loud voice. It was Lieutenant Farthmore. He was one of the very worst of her father’s cronies. Even sober, he was not a likable fellow. The one and only encounter she’d ever had with him, he’d leered at her and told her she was pretty enough to be on the stage. He was revolting. How like him to be the first to appear. How like him to attempt an entrance at this time of night.
With relief, Daisy heard the door slam shut. From somewhere on the gravel drive, Farthmore shouted, “Rotters!”
He might shout all he liked; she did not care. He would get on his horse and weave away to whatever low place he went to next. Now that he understood he would be barred at the door, he would not be back.
“Charming,” Lord Dalton said.
Daisy dabbed her lips with her napkin and said, “As I informed Mr. Bellamy, my father was not discriminating in those he chose to associate with. None of them are to be admitted.”
Behind her, she heard a tap on the window. She turned in her seat and saw that Farthmore had not left at all. He’d gone round the side of the house and now threw pebbles at the glass to gain her attention. He waved, and she turned back round.
“For God’s sake,” Lord Dalton said, rising and throwing his napkin down. He strode from the room.
Daisy and Mrs. Jellops stared at each other. Mrs. Jellops shrugged and said, “I expect Lord Dalton will manage it.”
Daisy peeked back around her chair in time to see Lord Dalton walk up to Lieutenant Farthmore, wallop him in the face, and then throw the staggering gentleman over his shoulder.
Mrs. Jellops, wide-eyed, whispered, “There, you see?”
They were silent for some minutes, Daisy having entirely lost her appetite.
Lord Dalton strolled back into the dining room, brushing off his coat sleeves. “Pardon me,” he said. “The gentleman arrived in a carriage, which he has been put back into. His coachman will not dare another trip up this drive.”
“Thank you, Lord Dalton,” Daisy said.
“Who does the fool imagine himself to be, accosting a house in such a manner? If one is refused entry at the front door, one does not then begin knocking on windows.”
Daisy laid down her napkin. “Farthmore was a Lieutenant of the Royal Marines. He thinks very highly of himself, having attended the Siege of Tarragona. According to him, Lord Murray ought to have been hung for his incompetence and the Lieutenant would have made short work of things, hadhebeen in command. As it was, he credits himself with an early success of conducting spying missions along the seashore. I know all of this, not because I ever wished to, but because the Lieutenant repeated it, loudly, every time he was drunk in this house.”
“Only an idiot would brag about being present at Tarragona. Though, I cannot think he is the only fool who will turn up,” Lord Dalton said, taking his seat.
