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“I believe...” Daniels audibly swallowed. “Word of your residence has got around. The Season might be over, my lord, but there are many young ladies still in Town and—”
“And they believe me an eligible lord who must be in want of a wife,” Valentine finished for him.
“Indeed, my lord.”
He fisted the card in his hand. Damn it all. The last time he had entertained visitors had been shortly before his sister’s death. After that, he avoided hosting dinners, balls or anything vaguely sociable. Twenty years of peace and now Chastity had come into his life and smashed it to smithereens.
He could not blame her really, he supposed. After all, it had been his choice to remain in London. Lord knew, she wanted him back in the country but there was no chance he was leaving her to wreak whatever havoc she could without him watching over her. Besides, he owed it to Julian to remain.
Which meant he would have to at least greet these visitors.
“I shall handle this, Daniels. Do not fear.”
The butler dipped his head, revealing the thin, precise line of his part amongst gray, carefully pomaded hair. Daniels looked the part. He on the other hand…
He rose, shoved a hand through his hair and touched his bare neck. One look at him would surely frighten away any genteel woman or overbearing mothers surely? Society dictated he present a much smarter, less scandalous appearance, but luckily for him, he did not give a fig what Society wanted.
As he stepped into the parlor room, he realized his mistake. If Lady Jameson noted his stubble, unruly hair and lack of a neckcloth, it would pale behind the truth of the matter which was he was a bachelor earl who was surely in want of an heir. And to Lady Jameson, any one of her daughters would be a good match.
He glanced at the three young women—the emphasis being on young. One of them had to be no more than six and ten, while the others were closer to the age his sister had been when she died. Not at all near his forty years. Even if he did decide to forgo his morals for the sake of siring a son, he would not inflict himself on some starry-eyed girl. If he were to marry, he would want someone closer to his age, someone with more experience of the world.
Someone like Chastity.
But that was irrelevant. He wasn’t going to marry anyway. He had distant cousins somewhere. They or their children could take over the title after he was gone—it had lost all meaning after the death of his father anyway.
“Lady Jameson.” He offered a bow, his hands clasped behind his back.
“My daughters, Lucille, Miss Lily Sharp and Miss Lavinia Sharp.” She gestured to the three fair-haired girls who all dipped so deeply it made him wince.
“A pleasure,” he manage to mutter. None of the girls looked him in the eye and he doubted they had any more desire to be here than he did. No doubt they saw him as an ancient recluse, and he did not mind keeping up that impression at all. “I am sorry to say you have had a wasted journey, Lady Jameson. I am not taking visitors and I have work to be getting back to.” He twisted away.
“But, Lord Kendall, it is visiting hour.” Lady Jameson darted forward and he half expected her to block the exit from his own damned room.
“I do not do visiting hour, my lady. If someone said I did, they misled you. I am quite busy.”
“A moment of your time surely, my lord? A busy man such as yourself needs a rest from their tiresome work and I am sure my daughters would be delighted to provide some entertainment—a little tune on the pianoforte perhaps? All three are immensely skilled in the arts.”
“I must repeat myself, Lady Jameson. I am too busy. Please excuse me.” He darted out of the room and heard Lady Jameson huff, but he suspected her daughters all released a collective sigh of relief.
Daniels prevented him from escaping back to the library. He peered around the man to see a cluster of women upon his doorstep through the front window. He darted back quickly when one of them spotted him.
“My lord?” He lifted the tray stacked high with calling cards.
“I’m not in, Daniels. Tell them I’m not bloody in.” He was not spending all day fending off over-eager Society women.
“I shall do my best, my lord.” The butler’s rounded cheeks reddened. He gestured to the window. “I think they saw you.” He glanced over his shoulders. “And they are quite determined.”
“Get Mrs. Cooke on the case if needs be. She has more balls than most of the male servants combined.” Valentine fixed his butler with a pointed look. “You can manage a few women I am sure, Daniels.”
“And you cannot, my lord. I understand.”
Daniels ducked away before Valentine could snap back a response. Damn the impertinent man. If anyone understood how little he cared for Society, it was Daniels. He’d been with the family since his father had been in the last years of his earldom.
A woman’s face appeared at the window, her nose practically pressed to the glass.
Bloody hell.
Valentine marched through the house, down the servant’s stairs and down another set of stairs until he entered the cool shelter of the servant’s tunnel. Not used anymore, it had originally been installed so servants could move through the house undetected. The tunnel offered a cold, dark space that sometimes dripped with damp and it seemed easier for the servants to forgo it—after all, he hardly cared if he happened to run into one of them.
