Page 11 of A Symphony for the Earl

He massaged his throbbing temples. His head pounded like the devil. Did the weight of his responsibilities lay behind this debilitating neuralgia? He became an earl, parent, estate-holder, and the head of a great household at the age of twenty-two, perhaps at a price he didn’t care to examine. Richard caught his sister’s concerned gaze and knew she recognized the signs of his headache.

Valentina took Octavia’s hand. “I think Miss Ernest is waiting to give your French lesson before dinner. Let’s go find her.” As she passed him, she touched his arm. “I will send a powder of ground willow bark and a cool cloth.”

Lady Amelia sighed. “Well, it is obvious the poor girl has no one, and Valentina will enjoy a companion her age. Surely, it won’t be too difficult to find such a vivacious girl a husband…” She trailed off.

“Good God, Mother, it is a Herculean effort to find a suitable match for Valentina, let alone an Irish fire eater.” The bands around his head tightened further.

A footman entered with a glass of water and one of the powders prescribed by his doctor. They did little to help once the pain had reached this stage. He waved away the hovering servant and his potion.

“I have the feeling, Mother, that everything will be difficult as far as Miss Rafferty is concerned.” All Richard wanted was to sit in the dark and close his eyes, but he needed to speak with Falworth immediately. There wouldn’t be a moment’s respite if the conversation waited until morning.

“I think Fiona will be quite a nice foil for Valentina,” Lady Amelia said. “She carries herself well and has an excellent figure. Although dark hair is not the fashion right now, I predict she will make quite an impression.”

“So do I, but for different reasons.” He rose and bent to kiss her cheek. “I’ll try to be back for dinner after I speak with Falworth and see what can be done about Miss Rafferty.”

He didn’t make dinner at Merrick House. He spoke with his solicitor, and the news was so disheartening and his headache so much worse that he decided to spend the night at his club and sent home a note to that effect.

Richard drove the curricle down Curzon Street and weighed his options. He concluded there were none. Miss Rafferty was his responsibility. He was thirty-two and had two sisters, a mother, and now a ward under his care. Good God, what was next? A long-lost brother?

Entering White’s a trifle morosely, he nodded to a few acquaintances and headed straight for a private parlor, where he ordered whiskey and water. He was on his second glass when Denys Spencer entered. Close as they were, Richard was scarcely in the mood for socializing. Denys pulled out the armchair across from him, and his brows drew together in irritation.

“I wouldn’t,” he warned. “I’m not fit company right now. It’s been a beastly day, and I can’t shake this infernal headache.”

Denys grinned and sat down anyway. He signaled to the waiter hovering nearby. “I’ll have a glass of tawny port. And bring a light repast. Some cheese and fruit, I think. Richard, you know drinking on an empty stomach can’t help.”

“And how do you know I haven’t eaten?” he growled.

“Because you never take lunch unless it’s here with me, and it is now dinnertime,” Denys answered promptly, removing his dark leather gloves. “Did you drive here?”

“Yes. My bays are at Hennessey’s with Jerome. What the devil do you want?’

“Tell me about your terrible day,” Denys encouraged. “It could be beneficial.”

Richard shook his head and downed the rest of his whiskey, staring at the empty glass. He contemplated ordering another. Instead, he regarded the artfully arranged tray of cut fruit and assorted cheeses placed in front of them and cut a piece of Stilton, then added biscuits and some green grapes. He consumed two more portions before pushing his plate away.

The club was mercifully sparse of guests; he concluded most of the usual clients were attending Lady Smythe’s soiree. She was a popular hostess and always served excellent food and wine. It was fortunate, for he couldn’t have borne the noise of a full house.

He sighed and leaned back against the plush armchair. “You are right, Denys. I needed something to eat. Where do I even begin to explain this dreadful tangle I’ve gotten myself into?”

Gradually, he recounted the day, starting with Lord Farrar’s offer of marriage and his ridiculous challenge, and then discovering the letter of guardianship. As he finished with the arrival of Miss Rafferty and his disappointing visit at the solicitor, Denys stared in astonishment.

“And I thought you exaggerated your misfortune, Richard. You have inherited an Irish ward? How bizarre. Is she at least passable, so you might marry her off quickly?”

“She is as exotic as some rare orchid and quite attractive. The question is, will the deuced woman behave herself? She’s lived quite freely for years in the wilds of Barbados, and then in Dublin, governed only by an elderly chaperone.”

Richard frowned, searching his memory for snippets of Gerald Rafferty.

“Whatever influence her father had cannot have helped matters. He was always a loose cannon. Rafferty, my father, and Uncle Carlisle all shared a penchant for wild living. As young men they gambled and wenched their way through London. When my father had exhausted his income, he married, and I believe Rafferty found a bride in England as well.

“The last I remember, my uncle had joined Rafferty in some sugar venture, and they were off to Barbados. It was a huge risk in that country’s volatile political climate, though fortunes certainly were made at the beginning.”

Denys took some almonds, crunching them thoughtfully. “Considering Miss Rafferty’s unconventional looks and history, I expect society will either reject her outright or call her the catch of the Season. For your sake, I hope it is the latter.” He dusted his fingers with a napkin.

“And Farrar. What an absolute cake. You were too lenient with the fool, Richard. I would have taught him a lesson on the dueling field. Let him regret challenging the best shot in London. You could have always clipped him in the arm or something equally harmless.”

He raised a brow. “And add more scandal to the Merrick name?”

“Well, if you want to land someone like Viscount Atterbury for Valentina, I guess you were wise,” Denys said bitterly.