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Chapter Two
As Charles made his way down for dinner, he found himself thinking of Lady Arabella. She was beautiful, yes. But she was also opinionated and intelligent. He was interested to make her acquaintance. It could never be more than that, but he was fine with that. He’d met so many daughters of gentlemen in his work. It was abundantly clear that none of them were anything like Lady Arabella.
As he walked, he glanced at the paintings in the hallway which stared out at him from their gilt frames. The carpet in the hall was soft and thick, muffling his footsteps.
When he arrived, the Duke, the Duchess, Lady Arabella, as well as another gentleman, were already down in the parlor, awaiting the announcement that dinner was ready. Charles glanced about the room. No matter how long he worked with the ton, their extravagant living situations still made his head spin.
His eyes went immediately to Lady Arabella, who was wearing a midnight blue silk gown which brought out the auburn of her hair. She looked positively bewitching.
“How do you find your rooms, Mr. Conolly?” the Duchess asked him.
“Very comfortable, Your Grace,” he replied. “Thank you.”
“This is the Viscount of Drysdale,” the Duke said, as a very austere, prim-looking gentleman walked over to them. “He’s here to enjoy the hunting. He will be staying here at Tiverwell Manor.”
“I’ve heard of your prowess in chambers,” Lord Drysdale said, smiling. “His Grace has been singing your praises.” He was a gentleman of no more than five-and-twenty. Charles had the hunch that he was actually there in pursuit of Lady Arabella. A hunt of the female kind.
“How kind of you, Your Grace,” Charles said. The Duke raised his glass of brandy in salute.
“It’s all well-deserved, sir.”
“I might have a case to discuss with you, myself,” Lord Drysdale replied, lowering his voice.
“I’d be very happy to assist you, My Lord,” Charles replied. This was how he made his client list—on the strength of recommendations from other clients.
“Mr. Conolly has agreed to fence me tomorrow,” Lady Arabella cut in.
“You’re going to duel a lady?” Lord Drysdale asked, clearly horrified.
“I shall,” Charles replied, feeling his hunch to be correct. Lord Drysdale seemed to be very confident, as he looked over at Lady Arabella. It was in a manner that was, already very proprietary.
“But—but—that’s obscene.”
“Not at all—for fencers, it’s practice,” Charles explained, calmly. “From what she’s told me, Lady Arabella is, at the very least, as trained as I am. It’s a fair fight.” He cleared his throat and then went on. “It would be an insult to the lady not to fence her, simply because she is a lady.”
Lord Drysdale frowned, but said nothing. He looked confused, as though he were wondering if he had been insulted, himself. Meanwhile, Lady Arabella was beaming at Charles. She mouthed the words,thank you. He nodded.
“Lord Drysdale,” Charles went on because he didn’t want the Viscount to believe himself slighted. He was a potential client, after all. “I’ve heard tell that you’re a master at whist. Would you be at all interested in a game, later?”
Lord Drysdale nodded, a small smile spreading across his face. “Of course, sir. Who told you?”
“The Earl of Diggar,” Charles replied. “He was just telling me last week that you gave him a solid thrashing at the Millgate Club.”
“And so I did,” Lord Drysdale said, proudly. The butler peered into the room at that moment.
“Dinner is served, Your Grace,” he said.
* * *
Arabella was thoroughly impressed by Mr. Conolly. He had gently put Lord Drysdale in his place, and then had softened it. He was clearly an expert in navigating the ton, without even being one of them.
Dinner was a long, drawn-out affair. Four slow courses, over which ton gossip was intimated by her parents and Lord Drysdale. She found herself sneaking glances over at Mr. Conolly.
Once, he caught her looking. He smiled, winking at her. She smiled, though she looked down at her plate. Her face heated as she blushed.
To be reduced to a blushing maid! Over a London barrister!
Dinner was over, at long last. The gentlemen and Mr. Conolly all left the room, retiring to her father’s billiards room, where they could enjoy their cards, cigars, and brandy in peace.
