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“Lord Melton, Lady Melton, this is William Barlow, Viscount Farleigh,” Lady Louisa said, her smile still firmly in place.
“How do you do, Lord Farleigh?” Lord Melton said, offering William a less-than-enthusiastic nod of his head. Lord Melton must have been acquainted with his father, then, William surmised. “Your parents are here already, my dear, but, assuredly, you must know that,” Lord Melton added. “I believe they expressed an interest in viewing some of my recent art acquisitions in the gallery.”
“Lord Farleigh,” Lady Melton said, tapping her chin in thought. “I remember a young lady who made her come-out with me—I believe she married a Lord Farleigh. Sweet girl, as I recall. I didn’t know her well and never saw her again after her wedding. Her name was Margaret Strickland, if I’m recalling it correctly. She was an heiress; her father had made his money in coal, I believe. Any relation of yours?”
“She was my mother. She passed away several years ago,” William said. He detested speaking about her with virtual strangers. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep the flood of emotions he felt at hearing his mother’s name from pouring out.
Lady Louisa was watching him too closely.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Lady Melton said kindly.
“Thank you,” William replied, ready to be done with the conversation.
Fortunately, there were more guests for Lord and Lady Melton to receive, so he and Lady Louisa excused themselves and moved through the crowd into an adjoining room, where refreshments were being served. They continued on through that room, however, and finally spotted the marquess and marchioness in the music room down the hall, where a nondescript young lady was attempting—rather badly, it seemed to William—to play the pianoforte. He and Lady Louisa stood quietly inside the door and waited for the piece to end before moving farther into the room.
William used the time to study the marquess and marchioness more closely.
Lord Ashworth was a tall man, like his sons, with dark hair that had gone silver at the temples. This evening, along with his typical aristocratic bearing, there was an air of grim resoluteness about him as he sat and listened. Lady Ashworth was fanning herself, and her lovely face—so much like her daughter’s—had a drawn look about it. They weren’t looking forward to the announcement to come, but then, no one was; they all merely wished the deed done.
The young lady eventually finished her performance and stood to receive the weak but polite smattering of applause that followed.
“Poor Harriet does try,” Lady Louisa whispered to William as they clapped. “I will credit her that. I think her mother puts her up to it.”
Now that the performance had ended, they made their way across the room to where Lady Louisa’s parents were sitting. Luckily, and not surprisingly, considering what they’d just listened to, there were vacant chairs nearby. “We were on our way to view Lord Melton’s latest additions to his art collection when Lady Putnam invited us to hear Miss Putnam perform,” Lady Ashworth said, glancing beyond William’s shoulder. “How could we possibly refuse such a kind offer?”
William turned his head and quickly concluded that Lady Putnam must be the woman who looked rather like a man-o’-war under full sail and who was heading in their direction with Miss Harriet Putnam in tow.
“Lady Ashworth, Lord Ashworth, so thoughtful of you to deign to listen to our dear Harriet,” Lady Putnam gushed. “She has worked diligently at perfecting her finesse at the keyboard. I am quite delighted at her progress. And here is our dear Lady Louisa too . . . with a young gentleman, no less.” She smiled at William, who presumed the man-o’-war was wrangling for an introduction, if her hungry look—and her daughter’s—meant anything.
“I must say, your performance of the Haydn was very energetic, Miss Putnam,” Lady Ashworth said tactfully. Lord Ashworth stood by, looking aloof, and said nothing.
“Thank you, my lady,” Miss Putnam said to Lady Ashworth, albeit her eyes never left William, which, honestly, was beginning to make his skin crawl. “It is kind of you to say so.”
“And are your two sons intending to join us here this evening?” Lady Putnam asked. “Such elegant young gentlemen, they are.”
Lord Ashworth rolled his eyes skyward.
“Thank you, Lady Putnam. Yes, they should be here shortly,” Lady Ashworth said.
With Lady Ashworth’s assurances that her sons were planning to attend, the feral glint that had been directed at William turned immediately to focus instead on the marchioness and her words, thank goodness. He needed no complications tonight other than to get the betrothal formally announced.
There was much he had been spared by haring off to Scotland: marriage-mad mamas and their daughters, for one, besides having to watch his father’s dissipation and ultimate ruin.
“Lord Farleigh, allow me to present Lady Putnam and Miss Putnam,” Lady Louisa said, pulling William back from his gloomy thoughts. “Lady Putnam, Harriet, this is Viscount Farleigh.”
“How do you do?” Harriet said with a deep curtsy and a flirtatious smile. “So very nice to meet you.”
“Viscount Farleigh,” Lady Putnam said, her eyes narrowing. “Hmm.”
“A pleasure, Lady Putnam, Miss Putnam.” Ah, yes, William thought. He’d also forgotten that he’d been spared the gossips that abounded in Town and was certain he had just met one of the most accomplished, if Lady Putnam’s eyes were anything to go by. No doubt his name and title would make their way through the rooms of Melton House like wildfire.
William would not have Louisa suffer the ill effects of his father’s foul reputation. Notwithstanding the cordial welcome he’d received from Lord and Lady Melton, he could not guarantee the reactions of any other guests, especially with the likes of Lady Putnam and her loose tongue in attendance. It was time to prepare for the battle that loomed ahead.
He had a great deal of work to do.
* * *
“If you would excuse us,” Lady Putnam said to Louisa and her parents. “Harriet, come with me quickly. I believe the Earl of Cantwell and his brother have arrived—such charming young men. And you are looking so fetching in your yellow gown this evening. Too bad they didn’t arrive earlier so they could hear you at the pianoforte.” She grabbed her daughter by the hand and forged her way through the crowd.
