Page 21 of Mr. Eastwood’s Match

He glanced at Roman to see what he had made of the near disaster to find his brother staring at him with a deep frown. Roman shook his head slightly, but whether it was a mark of disapproval for Lyness’s speaking up or confusion, Lyness couldn’t say.

Probably it was best to focus on the fact that he had saved Lady Emily from some mild discomfort and the possible re-ignition of London rumors. Rumors that he had heard, too, after leaving London for York. They were not flattering in any way, even if they had died down by the time Mr. Sterling arrived in York with his wife and sister in tow.

Reviving anything negative about Lady Emily while she was under her brother’s protection, away from the rest of her family, would not go well for her. And Lyness had no intention of letting anyone within his hearing cast aspersions on her character or reputation. Not when he knew her to be intelligent, witty, kind, charming….

He had to stop adding to the list when his mother announced that the ladies would adjourn to the drawing room. She rose with her usual grace, and all the gentlemen rose, too.

“We will, of course, be pleased to play cards, or perhaps enjoy some music, after we are rejoined by the gentlemen,” she announced. “This evening is proving a delight, and I will not have it end too soon.”

Lady Hartwell’s entire being took on a brightness of expression, and she moved with a grace and energy Lyness had not seen in her for some time. She smiled pointedly at Roman, then briefly at Lyness, then led the women out of the room.

As Lady Emily left, she looked back over her shoulder once. Lyness caught her gaze—or rather, she caught him staring. As did her sister-in-law. Lady Juniper had turned, too.

It seemed he was terrible at subtlety.

And Lady Emily’s departure left him somewhat hollow. He looked from the decanter brought forward by a servant to the door where the women had exited. Would it be terrible of him to skip the private masculine conversation and go directly in to sit with the ladies? Giving his attention to one lady in particular…

Roman was already speaking, though. And glancing at Lyness, which meant the older brother expected the younger to take part in the conversation. Which centered on politics, at first. Lyness listened, or tried to listen, to what his brother was saying.

“I think our party has taken on too much in terms of the entertainments for the races. If anything goes wrong, rather than blame one lord or committee, it will all come onto our party’s head.”

Mr. Holly, the family’s solicitor and a man who had gone to school with Roman, stared into his glass as though the liquid inside had offended him. “There is nothing to be done about it at this point. The Tories have practically backed us into a corner. None of them have curried favor with the elite of London. Not for this specific occasion. I would not be surprised to learn they have told members of the opposition to stay away entirely.”

“Surely, no one can sabotage the races that way,” Jack Sterling said. “I have never attended them, but I have heard of them often enough to know they are an historic staple to all who care for racing. The same track has been used for a hundred years, has it not?”

“And may it continue for one hundred more,” Mr. Nelson, the eldest man present, said with a nod. “Cheer up, my lads. I have seen twice as many races as all of you, and I tell you that no one remembers who hosted which balls, unless they were uncommonly good or the site of some ridiculous scandal.”

“Well then,” Phineas said with a crooked grin, “we can hope for mediocre balls and solemn scandals, if there must be any scandal at all, and it will go well for us. And the party.”

“I am more concerned with York as a whole,” Roman muttered.

“Of course you are,” Thaddeus Nelson responded, eyes rolling upward. “Heaven preserve our blessed York, and Roman Eastwood, Baron Hartwell, will be happy as a lark.”

Roman snorted, and Lyness couldn’t help a smile of his own. When Roman cut him a disapproving look, Lyness shrugged. “Your mania for our city is well known, brother. It is the easiest place to nettle you or to jest. If you would not have it so, guard your love more.”

“I haven’t any need to do such a thing,” Roman retorted, folding his arms over his chest.

Jack leaned forward, suddenly serious. “You would be surprised, Lord Hartwell, what exposing your heart to the world can do. One would hope it only brings admiration and understanding, but I have seen such a heart become a target instead. Your enemies, political or otherwise, will all know where to strike to see you undone.”

The mood immediately turned somber, and even Phineas had nothing to say on the matter. Instead, he looked at Roman with a contemplative frown.

Lyness thought of the pamphlets Roman funded, the speeches he gave in rooms thick with smoke and argument. His brother called it conviction. Others, less kind, called it courting danger. There was more to it than supporting historical preservation. Political enemies could use Roman’s love of his city against him. Denying projects. Shifting public opinion. Ruining his carefully laid plans unless he gave way in other areas. Even merely dividing his attention. When one wore one’s heart on his sleeve, he made it an easier target.

It fell to Lyness to half-soothe, half-cheer the party. “It would be difficult to hurt the city itself, with as many protectors as it has, and my brother would not know how to speak if he could not declare his loyalty to the place of his birth. I think York in good hands with Roman.”

“And I will drink to that,” Phineas said with a raise of his glass. The others followed suit. Even Jack.

The conversation turned, and it was Phineas again looking to stir up something. “Mr. Sterling, your sister, Lady Emily, is quite charming. It was a pleasure to be one of her dining companions. Would you not say so, Hartwell?”

Roman lowered the glass he was drinking from. “Yes. Most charming.”

“And?” Phineas asked, eyebrows raised as he leaned forward somewhat theatrically.

Lyness wanted to box his ears. A somewhat violent urge, coming on so suddenly it surprised him. He hastily put both his hands flat on the table. Then paid close attention to his brother.

“And…” Roman appeared confused by the question, looking from Phineas to Jack. “She is sweet-tempered. Well spoken. When she does speak. Is she always so subdued, Sterling?”

Jack shrugged one shoulder upward. “No, indeed. But there were new faces in the company. I am certain she is finding her way and will grow more comfortable voicing her thoughts. In time.”