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“That he has bee
n on the Grand Tour and has only just returned.”
“Precisely,” Lord Fraser stated, shrugging. “That is all I have managed to wrangle out of him thus far, although he may say more still.”
Matthew nodded, glancing again at the glasses and wondering just how much liquor it would take for Lord Fraser to become incapacitated. “You might try to ask him why he decided to go on the Grand Tour in the first place,” he suggested, as Lord Fraser nodded in agreement. “It was all very swift.”
“I shall,” Lord Fraser agreed, sagely. “And I will ensure that I repeat every word back to you thereafter.”
Having very little doubt that Lord Fraser would be able to do precisely that, Matthew nodded and thrust himself up from his chair, moving out of the way so that Lord Fitzherbert, when he returned, would not see Matthew and Lord Fraser speaking together. Even if he was in his cups, the man might easily become suspicious. Moving across the room, he found himself in a quieter corner and, much to his surprise – and delight – found Lord Stevenson sitting gazing down into the bottom of a large brandy which, evidently, he had chosen not to drink as yet.
This was his opportunity. His chance to further acquaint himself with Lord Stevenson, should the man be at all amiable.
“Might I join you?” he asked as jovially as he could, sitting down in a chair adjacent to Lord Stevenson but still a little away. “There is something of a ruckus going on in the rest of Whites, and I find that my head is already a little painful.”
Lord Stevenson did not look up from where he was nursing his glass of brandy. “If you wish,” he said, in a tone that was not unpleasant but neither was it welcoming. “Please.”
“I thank you,” Matthew murmured, aware that Lord Stevenson did not seem at all inclined to speak to him but knowing that he needed to do something. “You do not enjoy the commotion either, I think.”
Lord Stevenson looked up sharply, his eyes glinting like steel. “I am not aloof, if that is what you are suggesting.”
A little taken aback by the man’s sharp manner, Matthew spread out his hands. “No, not in the least!” he exclaimed, trying to make certain that Lord Stevenson did not think ill of him. “I was merely stating that—”
“It does not matter.” Lord Stevenson’s head lowered and his gaze rested on his glass of brandy again, his brows furrowing low and his expression almost brooding. Matthew frowned, looking away from the gentleman and wondering what he ought to do or say that might make the fellow more amiable. Little wonder that Miss Williams had found it so difficult to have more than the occasional dance with him and with very little conversation at that! The man had a hardness about him that told Matthew it would be very difficult indeed for them to develop any sort of acquaintance.
Had it not been for the noise of the other gentlemen all about them, an uncomfortable silence would have formed between himself and Lord Stevenson. Matthew began to understand why the fellow sat alone – it was tense and awkward sitting here with a fellow who appeared to be so ill-disposed to conversation.
“Might I order you another brandy?” he asked tentatively, even though he knew that Lord Stevenson’s glass was still quite full. “As an apology for any offense caused.” He put a small smile on his face and spread his hands, hopeful that Lord Stevenson would accept.
The gentleman looked up slowly, his brows low over his eyes and his expression almost angry.
“There is no need,” he grated, in a voice that told Matthew he did not like his thoughts to be interrupted. “I have no inclination towards more liquor, given what it does to a fellow.”
Matthew chuckled wryly, trying to keep the conversation going. “I well understand,” he agreed, “given that I, as yet, have had nothing to drink.” He gestured to a footman and ordered a glass of brandy, looking at Lord Stevenson again to see if he wanted another, only for the man to look away. No, it appeared that Matthew’s gesture was not to be accepted.
Just as the footman returned with the glass of brandy for Matthew, the noise in Whites seemed to redouble. Jerking in surprise, Matthew turned to see what the commotion was, only to spot Lord Fitzherbert banging wildly on the table with one hand, his face red and his eyes wild as he roared about some matter or other, with words that were entirely incomprehensible. Matthew caught Lord Fraser’s eye, seeing the man give a slight shrug. Evidently Lord Fitzherbert had drunk far too much and was now quite overcome.
Matthew sighed and sat back in his chair, closing his eyes and blowing out a long breath of exasperation. It seemed that Lord Fitzherbert would not be giving them any sort of information on his Grand Tour this evening. At least he could be grateful that Lord Fraser had struck up some sort of acquaintance with the fellow that could be used to further their cause in later days.
“What a fool.”
A little surprised to hear the gruff voice of Lord Stevenson, Matthew opened his eyes and looked directly back at the man, seeing how his eyes were turned towards Lord Fitzherbert and how his expression was filled with nothing but ire. That was an interesting reaction, at the very least, Matthew considered.
“I do not have a good deal of respect for any gentleman who behaves so,” Lord Stevenson muttered darkly, still glaring at Lord Fitzherbert. “He is making quite the fool of himself.”
“Indeed,” Matthew concurred, rolling his eyes. “Somewhat indiscreet, is it not?”
Lord Stevenson’s eyes swiveled towards Matthew, and he watched him closely, as though trying to discover whether or not there was any falseness in Matthew’s statement. Matthew said nothing, keeping his expression calm and merely waiting to see what Lord Stevenson would say. He prayed silently that the man would continue to speak, to say more about Lord Fitzherbert – or about anything, really, so that he might make some sort of inroad into an acquaintance with the fellow.
“Lord Fitzherbert is not a gentleman known for his restraint,” Lord Stevenson said darkly, after a few moments had passed. “I am not inclined to his company.”
Matthew lifted one eyebrow. “You are acquainted with him then?” he asked, with a slight air of interest. “I confess I do not know him at all. Lord Fitzherbert, did you say?” He watched Lord Stevenson’s expression flatten, as though he had said something he had not meant to express.
“Yes,” Lord Stevenson muttered eventually, taking a large mouthful of brandy before continuing. “Yes, we are acquainted. It was some years ago, of course, before I removed to the continent for a time.”
“And you have only just returned then,” Matthew said, as though he had just learned this from Lord Stevenson himself. “And Lord Fitzherbert has only come back from the Grand Tour, I believe.”
Lord Stevenson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were not acquainted with him.”
