Page 58 of Barbarous

Hugh groaned. The bloody newspapers! He’d forgotten about the bloody newspapers. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back with a dull thunk. The scruffy men who invented and disseminated what passed for news had not been lingering about Davenport House this morning, but he’d eat his hat if they weren’t there by the time he returned home tonight.

Hugh yearned for the days when things were simpler, when all he had to worry about were murderous corsairs trying to kill him and the entire French navy trying to sink his ship.

Chapter Fourteen

Daphne froze in the doorway to the breakfast room. There sat Hugh, enjoying one of his gargantuan breakfasts and perusing the paper.

She’d heard him return home often enough these past few weeks—his heavy step passing her door at first light and not leaving his chambers again until dark—but she’d not caught a glimpse of him since that first day.

But here he was, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

He got to his feet, his eye sweeping her from head to toe and then from toe to head, his expression flatteringly poleaxed. “Good God, Daphne, you are like a daffodil sprung to life in that shade of yellow. You look spectacular.”

Daphne gritted her teeth against the joy that exploded in her chest. “What a surprise, finding you here, my lord.”

He grinned at the chill in her voice. “Have you missed me, Daphne?”

“A fresh pot of coffee, please,” she said to one of the footmen, and then turned to find Hugh looming over her, a plate clasped in his huge hands and an ingratiating smile curving his lips.

“May I be your servant this morning, my lady?”

She plucked the plate from his fingers. “Please, resume your meal, Lord Ramsay.”

He chuckled and she heard the scrape of a chair as she approached the chafing dishes on the breakfront. Her appetite had fled the moment she’d seen him, but she hardly wanted him to know that.

“I am delighted to see you have left off your mourning, Daphne.”

She selected one of the smaller slabs of ham and some coddled eggs before taking the place setting farthest from his.

“How are you finding London so far?” he asked, undaunted by her frosty treatment.

“Busy.”

“But not all work, I trust?” He sawed off a chunk of very rare beef and Daphne blanched and looked away. He had not been losing sleep or been unable to eat worrying about that night at Lessing Hall. “Have you been keeping yourself entertained?”

“I am interviewing tutors, if you should wonder at the volume of young men coming and going from the house,” she said, and then wished she had not.

The forkful of beef stopped halfway to his mouth and he grinned. “I am obliged to you for setting my mind at rest. Lord knows what impression I may have put upon such activity otherwise.” He popped the beef into his mouth and chewed, his green eye sparkling.

Just what the devil did he mean by that? That young men couldn’t possibly be calling on her for any other reason? Daphne realized he was watching her expectantly and reminded herself how much he reveled in baiting her. She could deprive him of that much enjoyment, at least.

He washed down his food with a mouthful of coffee before speaking. “Is this tutor idea something my aunt has cooked up?”

“I hardly need Lady Letitia’s advice when it comes to educating my children.” She chewed her lip, wishing she could take back her churlish response.

His mouth curved into a slow smile but he said nothing, turning back to his rapidly diminishing breakfast.

The clink of cutlery filled the room. Silence was fine with Daphne.

“Have you seen much of my aunt?” Hugh asked.

Daphne studied his face for signs of a trap, but he appeared innocent. Well, as innocent as he could ever look. “Your aunt has taken me on as her pet project.” She frowned. “We have been paying calls—every day for weeks—not to mention the usual round of evening entertainments.” Her tone made it plain he would know as much if he ever bothered to leave his clubs.

He chortled but did not rise to the bait.

“Between them, your aunt and Anne are contriving to introduce me to every member of the ton worth knowing.” Daphne did not share with him that she found the activity exhausting and vapid.

Still, it was better than the alternative—which was to get on with telling Hugh the truth, scandalizing the ton, and packing her sons off to the wilds of Yorkshire, where they could enjoy a life of shame, isolation, and penny-pinching economy.