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“Shut it, Beresford.”
Samuel chuckled and they managed the situation of getting the old man into the carriage without further incident. Since the Earl did not believe that he was married, they finally convinced him that he should go to speak with his lady and offer for her on the spot.
“I am not sure I am putting forth my best foot,” the Earl said uncertainly. He suddenly discovered that he did not have shoes nor stockings on his feet and it was with much ado the gentlemen managed to get both onto his now rather dirty appendages. Nothing could be done about his sodden trousers, but with a few more swigs from Samuel’s flask he was convinced that his “Sweet Emmeline” would have him wet and bedraggled as he was.
“Sweet?” Samuel mouthed behind the Earl’s head.
Neville shrugged, he doubted any called the Lady Shalace sweet, but the Earl continued, “Sweet and voluptuous. Miss Lovell loves me, you see, and I love her and no bloody conventions are going to keep us apart.”
“I am sure Miss Lovell will be delighted to accept your suit,” Neville encouraged the Earl.
“If she doesn’t,” he said. “I told you before Wentwell, I shall just kiss her senseless. If she is mussed enough there will be no question of our marriage. She will have me or no one, and theToncan kiss my arse.”
Neville choked at the man’s cavalier attitude. “But surely, only if she truly wants you,” he said.
“Of course, but I am aware Miss Lovell has only the barest connection to the gentry, but you must agree Wentwell, there are ways around the constrictors put upon us by our standing; that is if the lady wants to be caught.”
The men in the carriage were stunned to silence at his raffish language.
After a moment, Neville cleared his throat. “You forget yourself, Shalace,” he said softly, but the unguarded comment made him think that all those years ago, regardless of rumor, it was not Miss Lovell who caught the Earl, but he who had caught her and made her his countess, The Lady Shalace.
The rest of the carriage ride was made in silence and Neville could not help but compare Lady Charity to her mother , The Lady Shalace and not unfavorably. The lady was not the man catcher his mother and indeed the rest of theTonthought her. It was clear that Lord Shalace loved her, and was still in love with her after all these years. He didn’t just pick a young pretty bride and she did not trap him for a title. Neville smiled. If love could exist between the cantankerous Lady Shalace and her failing earl, at their age, then love was possible anywhere. It gave him a warm feeling inside and hope for his own lady.
He felt strangely closer to his own father after speaking with The Earl of Shalace, no matter that he was not completely lucid. It was clear that the two men, his own father and the Earl of Shalace were friends. The families had not remained friendly after his father’s death, and no wonder. The wives were not. His own mother thought Lady Shalace was a social climber, but he now knew that was not true. He wondered if Lady Charity had much of her father’s brusque honesty. It was the polar opposite to all he had thought of Lady Shalace, and in turn her daughter. He had misjudged Lady Charity, to his embarrassment.
“If you have this under control, Wentwell,” Samuel said, “Drop us back at the park so we can pick up our carriages.”
“We can follow you if you think you may need our help,” Reg offered, but by then The Earl of Shalace was nearly snoring his head lolling onto Neville’s shoulder.
“I think I can manage the man,” Neville said.
“Ah, but can you manage his daughter?” Samuel asked.
Neville grinned in the darkened carriage. “I think so,” he said.
“Well. Good luck, old man,” Reg said giving him a clap on the shoulder. “Don’t let her get away,” he whispered.
~.~
Chapter Eighteen
Lady Charity was still waiting by the window when a carriage pulled to a stop in front of their gate.
“It must be Lord Wentwell!” Charity cried. It had to be. Anyone else would mean something terrible had happened. She sent a cry to the heavens that the carriage belonged to the gentleman and he would have her father inside.
The carriage door opened and Charity’s guess was confirmed as the first pair of fine boots that descended the steps belonged to the lanky body of Lord Wentwell. He unfolded himself from the interior and then turned back around to help the other rider down the stair.
“Father!” Charity cried. The window had been flung open and her father looked up in confusion at her word.
“Emmeline?” Lord Shalace replied as if he thought Charity were her mother. “My dear, I have come to beg your hand.”Lord Shalace grinned. “Wentwell here has encouraged me to come state my intent. I have come to do so before it is too late. You see, there are many a dashing fellow wandering around that might turn your head, and I love you to distraction and if you will have me, I shall make you my wife.”
At this point Charity, who had rushed from the parlor to the front door, was standing on the top step staring down at her father in all of his delusion. “Father,” she repeated. She has never been so happy to see him, although he did look a bit bedraggled.
Her father’s eyebrows drew together and his head tilted to the side as if he were confused by her reply.
“Miss Lovell,” Lord Wentwell said with a pointed tone. “Perhaps you would like to invite us inside?”
“Yes. Yes. Of course,” Charity said, realizing that her father was still lost in the past and they could not converse on the step.
