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He clasped his hands on the desk, knowing that remaining calm was the best course. “I do not care if you want to convince yourself of that for your own comfort. But he is not staying under my roof. You aren’t even a year into mourning, mother. Have some discretion.”
“This isn’t over,” she bit back.
“Yes, it very much is. I recommend you take a rest before dinner and perhaps accept I will be in residence for an indefinite period.”
Lady Dalton clenched her hands and let out one of the most petulant whines he had ever heard in his life before spinning around and marching from the room. It was a display that this study had seen many a time, though his father had been sitting in James’s place instead and had never handled arguments with his wife nearly as well. The shouting between the two could often be heard all the way in the nursery, and James had vivid memories of betting with Sophie over what they were arguing about at any given time. Though he would like to think those days were long over, James had a sneaking suspicion his mother would go down fighting. At least he wouldn’t need to see Wardely’s face ever again, though that was hardly a comfort. Feeling weary down to his bones, James eyed the mantle clock. Perhaps an excursion was in order, something to take his mind off the dismal state of his affairs.
Or, perhaps, someone.
**
“Lord Dalton to see you, Milady.”
Eliza looked up from her teacup, rather annoyed at the flutter of excitement her butler’s announcement caused. It’d been only a day since that near disastrous garden party, and she hadn’t expected him to come calling so soon, especially given the current state of his reputation in the wake of yesterday’s incident. Just about every scandal sheet in London had something to say on the matter, almost none of them favorable to the hapless viscount. Rumors swirled that he didn’t even live in his own home, Lady Dalton having barred him from the premises for reasons that the columns could only speculate on. One particularly vicious piece mused that the woman’s behavior was due in part to Baron Wardely actually residing with her on the premises, but Eliza decided such a tall tale was too ludicrous, even for that family. If indeed true, however, Dalton would have a veritable cliff to conquer in his redemption quest rather than a mere uphill battle. No, she thought with an inward scoff, such an arrangement was patently ridiculous. Surely the man’s family life wasn’t that much of a complete disaster.
“Shall I tell him you are not in?” Her butler’s impeccably polite voice brought Eliza out of her woolgathering, and she debated on the next course of action. After another busy morning of planning, she’d decided to keep an afternoon to herself and instructed that there were to be no callers today. Dalton, of course, was a bit of an exception considering their rather odd relationship, but Eliza found it more than a bit disconcerting that even her servants seemed to pick up on the special air between the two of them, especially when Eliza herself was unsure how ‘special’ their relationship actually was. But the man was already here, and she was hesitant to turn him away for reasons that almost certainly had to do with the likelihood of him having some important news to impart rather than the great temptation to allow him into her circle of acquaintances as Lady Amberwood had suggested. Certainly.
“No, please show him in.” She placed her cup down with a resigned exhale as the door was quietly shut. After surreptitiously smoothing her skirts and patting some invisible strands of hair back in place, Eliza braced herself as the door swung open once more, and Dalton strode into the room.
“My Lady,” he said and executed a swift bow.
“Lord Dalton.” Eliza peered at him more closely, noting his tousled hair and hard breathing, as if the man had sprinted all the way to her from across town. He seemed in an agitated state, fingers fidgeting at his sides and body subtly swaying with restless energy. That rakish lock of hair fell over one eye again, though he made no move to correct it. She gestured carefully to the other end of the sofa. “Have a seat. I was just settling down for tea.”
“Oh, dear. I’ve barged in on you again.” An odd, almost wild look of panic flitted over his face before he barked out a harsh chuckle. “Just an utter disaster, aren’t I?”
Concern replaced her earlier excitement at his visit, and she gestured more firmly to the sofa. “I am perfectly happy to see you. Now, please sit so you can settle yourself and explain what has you in such a state.”
He frowned as if about to argue, but quickly did as she bade after receiving her sternest glare, perching his lithe frame carefully on the edge of the sofa. “Thank you,” he muttered, his hands still fidgeting atop his knees.
“Why don’t you tell me what is going on? We were together only yesterday, so it is rather odd for me to be seeing you so soon.” Something had obviously happened between then and now, something quite grave if his wary glance at the open door of the parlor was anything to go by. Knowing what he preferred without asking, Eliza rose and padded over to the door to properly shut it, the universal signal to her staff that she was not to be bothered with her guest. The tiny handful of lovers she’d had in the past since Aircourt’s death had never caused a stir, and she trusted her staff to remain discreet about this silly bit of impropriety. The relieved look on Dalton’s face when she returned to her seat made it more than worth the potential giggling of a few maids.
“I am sorry for causing a fuss,” he replied, though seemed more visibly relaxed now that they had privacy. “I needed someone to talk to, and you, of course, were the first person that came to mind.”
She did her best not to read too much into the words, for the thought that he viewed her as his closest confident was both concerning and incredibly pleasant. She coughed to deflect some of the warmth threating to spill across her skin. “It is no matter. It seems we are destined to be friends of a sort. At least, Lady Amberwood seems to think so.”
He shook his head with a wry smile. “That sounds like Sophie.” The charming grin faded almost as quickly as it had come. “I didn’t want to bother her with this. Though it will get out soon, regardless. The gossip columns must be having the week of their lives.”
Unease threaded through her. “Surely whatever happened cannot be worse than yesterday.”
“It most assuredly can.” He looked away from her and down at the floor, clasping his hands together and clenching his fingers. “There have been some whispers of this, but you will hear the truth of the matter from me. My mother barred me from the house when I returned to England. Until yesterday, I’d been discreetly renting out lodgings elsewhere with what little funds I have on hand.”
It seemed her earlier assumptions about the validity of the gossip columns weren’t entirely correct. But surely… “Please tell me the talk of Baron Wardely also living there is false.”
Any hope was immediately distinguished when he looked up at her in utter embarrassment. “I hadn’t known that he was living there until this morning, actually.”
Her eyes widened. “Lord Dalton!”
“I know, I know.” He held out his hands. “I should have had a handle on things well before this mess. Believe me, it is most embarrassing. Before you judge me too harshly, however, I did finally decide enough was enough after yesterday and went there this morning to take my mother in hand. I was in quite the rage once I found out Wardely was staying there.”
Such an action was a triumph for him, and Eliza was about to say so until she noticed that the embarrassment on his face had not abated. “That you seem to be such a mess after supposedly handling the situation with discretion tells me something went wrong.”
“Well…” A wobbly, nervous smile crept onto his face. “I may have overreacted.”
Eliza crossed her arms and fixed him with a glare. “What could you have possibly done to make this any worse?”
“I had his belongings thrown out in the street,” he blurted, so fast that she almost didn’t catch the words. But understand them she did, along with their horrifying implications.
“You threw his things in the middle of the street at peak calling hours for all of Mayfair to see?” The spectacle had likely been spectacular, so much so that had she been receiving callers today, Eliza might have already heard about it within the hour. “Everyone knowing about her lover is one thing, but to have the drama so publicly aired for everyone to gawk at is…”
