He groaned and stepped out of the carriage, setting his hat firmly atop his head. Surely this wouldn’t be so bad as other calls he’d had to make. He had once known the Morledges better than he’d known his own parents, and he’d been invited to more impromptu meals at their table than he could now recall.
Ages ago. When they had been neighbors and friends. They were practically strangers now.
He trudged up the stairs and bit back a sigh as he rang the bell, looking up at the underside of the window ledge above him.
“Lord, if I’ve ever done a good thing in my life, let this visit be painless. And be sure to inform my mother that I’m doing it, even though I hate paying calls.”
The Lord did not write a message for him on the window ledge, but Aubrey would go with the assumption that the message had been received. He might not have been on the most familiar terms with anything remotely resembling deity, but he was not about to risk denying it.
The overly-carved door opened, and a tall, sallow-faced butler answered, raising a furry brow at him.
Aubrey smiled, unsure if it was in amusement or anxiety. “Good day. Lord Ingram to see Lady Trenwick and her children.”
The butler’s expression immediately shifted into one of deference bordering on delight. “Of course, my lord. Please, do come in.” He stepped back and smiled.
For some reason he’d never understand, Aubrey had always been fascinated by servants, and by butlers in particular. He thought this one might rank up there with Locke. He was perfectly composed and respectful, but something about him made Aubrey want to ask impertinent questions and use the wrong fork, just to see his reaction. He inclined his head as he stepped into the house, removing his hat and tugging off his gloves.
“Is the family expecting you, my lord?” the butler asked with all politeness as he took the hat and gloves.
Aubrey shook his head and handed the butler his card. “No, they are not. But it’s long past time for me to pay a call upon them, so I hope they will forgive the lack of advanced warning.”
The butler smiled and nodded at him. “I am sure they will, my lord. If you will follow me, I will have you wait in the parlor until I secure permission…”
“Ingram!”
Aubrey turned with a forced smile to James, wishing that anyone else from the family had found him rather than this peacock. “James. How fortuitous, I have come to call upon you all, if you will permit the intrusion.”
James approached with a lazy smile that spoke of too much indolence and not enough sense. “I believe that Mother would permit you making off with one of my sisters with a polite smile and a gracious hand of friendship, Ingram. Even after all this time. Come, I’ll take you up. Thank you, Bennett.” He smirked at the butler and moved down the corridor.
Aubrey watched him go for a moment, then looked at the butler. “Is he always like that?” he murmured quietly.
“Unfortunately, my lord,” Bennett replied with a hint of distaste. He bowed, then disappeared.
Aubrey grumbled under his breath and followed James, sending up another prayer to the Almighty, though this one was far less polite.
He’d risk being struck by lightning. He’d find it preferable at the moment, come to think of it.
Please let Grace be sensible, please let Grace be sensible, please…
“Mother, Grace, look who has come to call on us at last.”
Well, he could have done without that particular introduction.
Aubrey fixed his most polite smile on his lips and strolled into the room, attempting to pretend that he wasn’t holding his breath.
Lady Trenwick looked almost identical to the woman he recalled, though perhaps with a few more faint lines, though her hair was still the same color of aged-gold from his childhood. To his surprise, she was smiling at him, also identical to the manner he remembered, which proved she was a much kinder soul than he expected.
Or remembered, as it were.
“Lord Ingram!” she greeted with sincere delight. “What a wonderful surprise!”
He bowed, his smile far more effortless than before. “Lady Trenwick, you are remarkably unchanged from when I last was graced with your presence.”
She chuckled and held out a hand to him. “Aubrey, dear, you haven’t lost your charm.”
He came to her and took her hand, kissing it fondly. “Of course not, my lady. I simply save it for select people and occasions.”
Lady Trenwick wrinkled up her nose with a laugh and touched his cheek. “So grown up, Aubrey. And handsome! Your mother would be so pleased.”
Aubrey straightened and found himself sobering. “Mother would no doubt wish me to be more of a gentleman than I am, but there is time for redemption, I trust.”
“Of course, there is.” She squeezed his hand and turned. “You remember my daughter, don’t you, Lord Ingram?”
Aubrey turned to consider Grace, standing nearby, watching his exchange with her mother with steady eyes, and a hint of a smile. But only a hint. “Of course. Miss Morledge, you are looking remarkably well today.”
Remarkably well was a blatant lie and a sin against humanity and all the arts. Grace Morledge was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and somehow her impact was all the more potent for not being surrounded by other young women in all their finery. Here in this well-furnished drawing room, in her simple day dress of pale green, she bore the air and appearance of a goddess.
Which would explain the sudden dryness in his throat as her perfectly full lips curved into a smile.
Goddesses. Such trouble.
“As well as I did last week at the Johnstons’ ball?” Grace asked as her smile turned coy. “You didn’t say so then.”
“Grace,” her mother scolded half-heartedly. “Leave poor Aubrey alone. He could hardly pay such attentions to you in public, particularly at the Johnstons’. Mrs. Johnston alone would have…”
Grace wrinkled her nose. “Yes, she would have told Miranda Sterling, Mama, but Mrs. Johnston is only half the busybody Miranda is, so she would have forgotten the details.” Grace returned her attention to Aubrey, smiling again. “But please forgive the impertinence anyway, Lord Ingram. I should be better behaved than that.”
Aubrey chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. “Not at all, Miss Morledge. And I’m afraid that I am more reserved than my usual nature in such a public spectacle as a ball. I’ve never been particularly comfortable standing on ceremony.”
The goddess tilted her chin, appearing amused. “And you’re so comfortable in a more informal setting?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. At the moment, I am feeling quite thoroughly examined, Miss Morledge, and I don’t find that at all comfortable.”
She grinned outright, and his lungs forgot the manner of inhalation.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Grace, leave him alone,” James blustered with a simpering sort of laugh. “Sit down, Ingram, and let me pour you a drink.”
Grace looked at her brother in disgust. “It is eleven in the morning, James.”
“It’s none of your concern when I choose to begin my imbibing, princess,” James returned with a surprising amount of spite as he moved to the sideboard. “And certainly not when Ingram does.”
Aubrey turned to James. “Actually, Morledge, I will forgo a drink for the present, but thank you.” He looked back at the ladies, smiling further. “One never knows what will come out of my mouth when under the influence of a decent vintage.”
“Sound judgment,” Grace murmured as she sat, her cheeks coloring slightly. “Would that all men had it.”
This comment was lost on her brother, who continued to fill his own glass.
Lady Trenwick also sat, and silently gestured for Aubrey to do the same. “Aubrey, dear, how is Breyerly? Such a lovely place; I do remember it so fondly.”
A genuine warmth filled him at the mention of his beloved estate. “It is in need of some small repairs, my lady, but only for upkeep. We’ve expanded the gardens since I saw y
ou last, and we’ve included a new fountain in honor of my mother. And you remember the large oak by the hill on the west side?”
“Yes, of course!” Lady Trenwick replied, clapping her hands in delight. “Such a fine old tree, with such character.”
“Even I remember that tree,” James blustered as he came to sit down. “The boys and I spent a great many hours climbing up into it, and I believe you were with us, Ingram.”
Aubrey managed a chuckle. “Yes, so the scar on my left knee reminds me.”
“I used to just walk around that tree,” Grace murmured, smiling wistfully at nothing. “Looking up into the leaves, trying to find a ray of sunlight through them…”
James scoffed loudly. “So fanciful, Grace. I thought you were more sensible than that.”
Grace glared at her brother, shaking her head, her jaw tightening.
Aubrey would have given a considerable fortune to know what she was thinking at this moment. But instead, he went on. “Unfortunately, the tree was struck by lightning and had to come down.”
Lady Trenwick’s face fell a little. “Oh, how terribly sad. Such a loss for the grounds.”
“It’s only a tree, Mother,” James blustered pompously. “Dry your eyes.”
Well, that was unnecessary, but Aubrey was hardly in a position to shut him up.
“But what of Withrow?” Aubrey asked, shifting the subject at once. “It’s been an age since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing any of you there. The rose bushes have fully bloomed, and I can see them from my study. Such glorious colors, Lady Trenwick.”
James sniffed in the most dismissive manner possible, settling back into his chair. “Oh, we’re not going back to Withrow. Such an eyesore of a place, and a drain on all our finances.”
Grace looked at her brother, expression hurt. “James…”
“He’s right.”
They all turned to the new voice, and Aubrey was stunned to see Lord Trenwick standing there, more aged and tanned than he recalled, but in every other regard the same.
Aubrey rose quickly and bowed. “Lord Trenwick. My apologies, sir, I had no idea you were in residence.”
He eyed Aubrey in an oddly paternal manner for a man so formal, and nodded in greeting. “Ingram, my lad, you’ve grown into a fine man. Your reputation precedes you. Quite respectable.”
“Does it?” Aubrey asked, suddenly feeling the urge to stand up straighter and answer with all politeness. “And I had hoped to keep myself as particularly unobtrusive as possible while here in London.”
A soft laugh was muffled behind him, and Aubrey fought the temptation to glance at Grace, suspecting it had come from her. But there was no diverting one’s attention from Lord Trenwick when he was engaged in conversation with you. It simply was not done.
Aubrey cleared his throat quickly, seeing Trenwick’s gaze flick to his daughter. “So, Withrow is not prospering?”
“Not at all,” Trenwick replied gruffly, returning his attention to Aubrey. “I’d get rid of it altogether if any reasonable offer was made on the place.”
A strange mixture of surprise and the reverse filled Aubrey at the thought. It would be entirely in the nature of Trenwick to hold no sentimentality for an estate in his care, and yet as far as he knew it was the only estate Trenwick had, which meant it was his only source of viable income in England. Oh, he surely had investitures elsewhere, and possibly an estate on the Continent, but here in England, it was only Withrow.
And he would give it up?
Curious.
“Ingram, perhaps we might speak in private?” Trenwick suggested as he gestured faintly for the corridor. “There is much I would discuss with you.”
Damnation. He had very much hoped to avoid such an interview, but Trenwick had always treated Aubrey as though he were a son, despite never showing true parental measures. In his youth, Aubrey had grown used to receiving the same lectures on responsibility and duty from him that his father had given, all to be delivered in much the same tone, although without the same level of intoxication.
Aubrey’s father had been more like James Morledge than Lord Trenwick, but without all the frills.
Small mercies.
“Of course,” Aubrey replied in a smooth tone, his cheeks beginning to ache from forcing his smile. He turned to the ladies and James, nodding to each in turn.
“Shall I come too, Father?” James asked, sitting forward in his chair.
Lord Trenwick looked at his son in mild derision. “Whatever for?”
James blinked in surprise.
Trenwick gestured again for Aubrey, who moved to the door without another word to anyone else. Trenwick turned down the corridor and headed to a room at the end of it, not speaking at all.
Not that Aubrey minded the silence. On the contrary, it gave him ample time to rearrange his mind, which was sorely needed, now that he was expected to converse on topics destined to be tedious and business-related. Two of his least favorite things.
All with one of the sternest men he’d ever met.
This was another reason he hated to pay calls, and actively avoided doing so. If only he’d paid more attention to the less honorable part of his inclination and had stayed at home. This all might have been avoided.
More’s the pity.
They entered Trenwick’s study and Aubrey waited as Trenwick situated himself behind the desk. Then he sat in perfect time with the older man, lacing his fingers together loosely in his lap.
Trenwick exhaled audibly, then gave Aubrey a grimacing smile. “I am pleased to see you here today, Ingram. It’s been far too long since we’ve had an opportunity to speak.”
Aubrey let his polite smile return. “Well, I have been at Breyerly, sir, or at school, as the case might have been, and, as I understand it, you have been on the Continent much of the time.”
“It’s true, I have been,” Trenwick admitted freely, his fingers tenting. “I found far better opportunities in Europe than could be had here. My children had their mother for supervision, and there was little enough to tempt me into the House of Lords, especially considering the services I rendered in all the years preceding it.”
“You don’t have to defend yourself to me, my lord,” Aubrey insisted, waving a hand. “I have always found that a man is best suited where he feels most comfortable.”
Trenwick made a face. “I disagree. Respectfully.”
Of course he did.
“It’s not about comfort,” Trenwick continued, completely unaware of Aubrey’s impending disgruntlement. “A man must go where he can be productive and make the most of his skills, his time, and his resources. I had run the course on what I was capable of accomplishing in England, so it was no longer feasible to remain here. At least for any length of time, you understand.”
Aubrey didn’t understand, not in the least, but he nodded as if he did.
“My children do not require a father’s supervision or intervention, now that they are matured,” Trenwick went on. “James is a waste of a man, but he will inherit, and there is nothing I can do about that but protect the assets from his extravagance. The other boys will make up where he lacks.”
From what Aubrey had seen, that should not be too hard. The younger Morledge sons were certainly better than their elder brother, but he wasn’t sure how much that was saying.
“In fact, if I could only get Withrow off my hands, I would have no real reason to return to England at all,” Trenwick mused hopefully, apparently willing to continue his somehow-productive, one-sided conversation without any intervention. Then, Trenwick’s face suddenly turned into a scowl. “That and Grace.”
Aubrey looked at Trenwick in shock. “Grace? I mean, Miss Morledge? What could she have to do with anything, my lord?”
Trenwick’s brow furrowed, then cleared. “Ah, I forget that you have not been in London much at all, so you might not be fully aware. Grace is a spinster, Ingram.”
Was he expecting Aubrey to gasp in shock at that pronouncement? Grace wa
s clearly living in their home, was clearly unmarried, and unless Trenwick anticipated Aubrey to be incapable of counting, she was clearly of an age where it was atypical to be either of those things. But must such a statement be made as though she were on the brink of certain death? Surely there were worse things.
He settled for a bland disappointment. “That is most unfortunate.”
“It’s worse than unfortunate, I can assure you.” Trenwick shook his head and leaned on his desk in utter defeat. “Can you imagine what others must be saying about a man who cannot secure a match for his eligible daughter? Her fortune is enough, her accomplishments are enough, her looks are enough. She ought to be more than enough for any gentleman to wish for in a wife.”
Aubrey nodded sagely, as what was being said was true, however little he cared about it.
“If only I could find a suitable man who would not care about something as sentimental as romance or the like. It would be a very simple and straightforward business venture, and nothing more. I would welcome any such sensible man.”
Aubrey’s stomach clenched in sudden apprehension and the perspiration of dread prickled at the back of his neck. Surely Trenwick wasn’t about to suggest…
“But alas,” Trenwick sighed, “none have come forward.” He shook his head again and looked at Aubrey. “Which is why I cannot go back to Europe, much as I should like to.”
“And Lady Trenwick?” Aubrey asked before he could stop himself. “What does she think?”
Trenwick smiled tightly. “Lady Trenwick and I mutually benefit from my remaining on the Continent. She agrees with me.”
With that tone, Aubrey wouldn’t have been at all surprised if Lady Trenwick had no choice but to agree with him. She likely hadn’t been given an opportunity for any opinion on the subject whatsoever. In which case, it was entirely probable that she did agree with him by this point, ironically enough.
How did any couple in the world endure matrimony at all? Between his parents and the Trenwicks, Aubrey had been raised with a particularly poor impression of the state, and nothing at all to recommend it.
Not that thoughts of matrimony had any place in his mind at the present. In this room. In this house. With an eligible woman living within. A deuced attractive one, but that was neither here nor there.
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