Page 2 of A Symphony for the Earl

After much effort, the boy succeeded, chest heaving, and slung it at Richard’s foot. The offending article landed against the earl’s gleaming top boot and slid to the priceless Turkish rug below.

“There, my lord! I will not suffer such shabby treatment,” Sir Percy screeched. “My honor demands a meeting or an apology!”

The nerves along the back of Richard’s neck tightened. He walked over and pulled a velvet cord hanging in the corner.

A towering man clad in impeccable black and silver appeared in the doorway.

“Stand by, Hansen,” Richard said. “Sir Percy will be leaving us at any moment.”

“Do you refuse to meet me, Lord Seldon?” his guest choked. “This is unacceptable—I refuse to leave without satisfaction.”

Richard looked down, his lip curling. “Then I will give you several compelling reasons to change your mind. First, it’s deplorable manners to call out a man in his own home. Second, if you survive a duel with me—” Hansen coughed discreetly in the background. “Yes, Hansen, I agree it is unlikely—you will be a laughingstock.”

Sir Percy’s clenched hands opened and closed as if he imagined them around his host’s neck.

Richard smiled wolfishly.

“Last, there’s a very important fact of which you must be ignorant, so pray let me enlighten you. My name stands at the top of Manton’s Shooting Gallery for marking the wafer nineteen out of twenty times. That number held steady for six months…until yesterday. Yesterday, I scored all twenty.”

Sir Percy looked slightly nauseous. He swallowed repeatedly, and his eyes flickered from Hansen’s grim form to the door.

“Now, I offer you one last opportunity to leave this house, or I will acknowledge your misguided insult and meet you when and where you wish.”

The color came and went from Sir Percy’s face. He opened his mouth, then closed it, looking rather like a landed bass, bent, and snatched the crumpled glove from the carpet.

Valentina’s erstwhile suitor fled the room, Hansen close behind.

Richard sank into the chair behind his desk, leaning back against the leather headrest. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. Perhaps finding a husband for his sister would prove more challenging than he imagined.

“Damnation.” He reached up to massage his temples and winced. Another blasted headache would certainly put the crown on this dreadful interview.

And his new Prussian-blue morning coat was too snug through the shoulders. Although his tailor delighted in showing Richard’s physique to advantage, the ability to breathe was a topic he must mention on the next visit—gently, of course.

He crossed his buckskin-clad legs and sighed. The morning was a waste, and this afternoon he had promised Valentina a drive in the park at twelve thirty. The Sèvres clock on the fireplace mantel indicated quarter past eleven.

Richard rifled through the papers on his desk; most were unanswered correspondence. He desperately needed a secretary but hesitated to turn over his affairs to a stranger. Determined to make a dent in the pile, he pushed aside the heavy ledgers of household accounts to make room. An envelope fluttered to the floor, addressed to Lord Richard Merrick, Earl of Seldon.

He retrieved it. The missive, still sealed, bore his solicitor’s name and street number in the upper corner. It was delivered by post, most likely put aside and lost in paperwork.

Richard broke the wax and scanned the single paper. The blood drained from his face, and he quickly reread the letter with growing dismay.

“Damnation!” He tossed the envelope and its contents onto his desk and strode to the atrium hallway, where Hansen arranged the day’s calling cards on a silver tray.

“Hansen, where is Lady Merrick?”

The majordomo snapped to attention. “In the morning room, I believe, my lord.”

Richard followed the long, portrait-lined hall to a smaller room where his mother sat at her writing table, giving instructions to the housekeeper. Both ladies looked up in unison, startled by his abrupt entrance.

“I must speak to you alone, Mother. Mrs. Talbot, could you see that the governess keeps Octavia in the schoolroom? And if Valentina comes down, we are not to be disturbed.”

“Of course, my lord.” The housekeeper bobbed a curtsy and hurried out.

It was a charming space, filled with sunlight peeking through airy yellow curtains. The settee and matching chair were upholstered in his mother’s favorite shade of raspberry, and the rug was a tasteful medley of matching peonies nestled amidst celadon leaves. A vase of yellow hothouse roses stood nearby on a Hepplewhite table.

His mother only enhanced the charming décor. She watched with great concern as he paced the room.

“Richard, what on earth has put you so out of countenance?”