Loving Lieutenant Lancaster

by Sarah M. Eden

  He held her gaze, indicating with the smallest tilt of his head and raise of his eyebrows that he had noticed her watching him. She looked away again, her lips pressed together with effort, though it did nothing to hide her amusement. She was, it seemed, laughing, at least in part, at him. But why? He had dressed with care. He’d not cut himself shaving nor did he think he had any smudges on his face or person. She was too far distant to have overheard anything he’d said.

  The arrival of Lord Lampton pulled him away from the mystery she still presented. Even if he hadn’t met the earl earlier, he would have had no difficulty guessing the identity of the gentleman currently clad in a deep-purple jacket, bright-yellow waistcoat, trousers of so brilliant a shade of gray as to be almost silver, and a cravat knot more extravagant than those generally seen outside of the finest ballrooms and gatherings of Society’s most elite.

  Lady Lampton walked at his side with the same difficulty she’d displayed earlier. She leaned on her walking stick and moved with obvious pain. Though Linus had not directly interacted with her, he felt certain she was the very opposite of her husband in disposition: subdued, pragmatic, and rational.

  A hand slapped down on Linus’s shoulder. Harry had arrived at his side. “I believe Adam’s archenemy has arrived.”

  Archenemy was doing it a bit brown, but that was the general idea. They’d been brought to protect Lord Lampton from the Dangerous Duke and the Dangerous Duke from his wife’s wrath. Linus was bound for battle once more. Here was something he knew how to undertake.

  “Shall we go earn our pay?” Harry asked.

  “Are we being paid for our services?”

  “No.” Harry tapped his chin, his brow pulled in thought. “Why are we doing this if we aren’t being paid?”

  Linus matched his theatrical expression of pondering. “Because we are remarkable human beings?”

  Harry shook his head. “Can’t be that.”

  “Because we’re afraid of Adam?”

  Harry actually snorted. “Definitely not that.”

  “Because we’re afraid of Persephone.”

  Harry nodded firmly. “That’s it.”

  Linus made a show of straightening his jacket and cuffs. “Once more into the breach, my good man. Once more.”

  Lord Lampton jangled as he and his wife crossed directly toward Adam. Linus spared a quick glance for the mystery lady. She had returned her gaze to the windows. She did not, it seemed, feel the same pull he did.

  Harry and Linus moved to where Adam stood, reaching him as the Lamptons did. Acknowledgments were made all around and the required bows and curtsies exchanged. Lampton’s, Linus noticed, was deeper and grander than was generally seen, almost to the point of being laughable.

  Adam’s expression hardened, annoyance clear in every angle of his face. His eyes slowly shifted from Lampton to Harry. There was no mistaking the command inherent in Adam’s expression: intervention.

  “A pleasure to see you again, my lord,” Harry said. “I understand your youngest brother is home on holiday.”

  “Indeed. He wishes to experience the unparalleled delight of watching his eldest brother do the pretty.” Lord Lampton spun his quizzing glass on its chain. “I could not deny him the opportunity.”

  “And in the process, inflict me with it,” Adam grumbled.

  “It is pronounced ‘favor,’” Lord Lampton said. “Favor you with it.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  Lord Lampton turned to his wife and, in an overly loud whisper, one clearly meant to be overheard, said, “He must be accustomed to the French pronunciation.”

  “Perhaps you were not warned,” Adam said, “but I do not endure ridiculousness.”

  Lampton nodded. “I was warned, but clearly”—he motioned to his attire—“that will not be a problem.”

  “It is already a problem.”

  Lampton turned toward Harry with a look that held just the tiniest bit too much theatricality for Linus to be certain it was sincere. “Jealousy?”

  Adam appeared ever more annoyed.

  “As much as I am enjoying this,” Harry said, “I suspect we would be well-advised to mingle elsewhere.” Harry took full custody of Lord and Lady Lampton, the former of whom looked delighted by the prospect of socializing, and the latter of whom appeared to want nothing more than to return to the quiet of her own room. They made an odd pair.

  “I suppose I had best go offer my apologies to Persephone,” Linus said.

  “Apologies for what?” Adam asked.

  “For the inevitability of you landing Lampton a facer.”

  “Land him facer?” Adam shook his head. “Harry has you using cant, now, does he?”

  Linus chuckled. “I spent more than half my life on board a ship. I hardly need Harry to teach me lower-class expressions.”

  Adam’s gaze shifted to something just beyond Linus’s shoulder. Looking back, Linus realized Lampton still held Adam’s attention.

  “What are the chances,” Adam asked, “that someone will set fire to the Castle and I will be forced to leave this party early to look over the smoldering heap of stones?”

  “Not very good, I’d wager.”

  Something very near a growl escaped the duke’s throat. “Sounds like you and Harry have your work cut out for you, then.”

  On that foreboding pronouncement, Adam made his way to Persephone’s side across the room. Adam would not make trouble, Linus felt certain of that. But he had no doubt his brother-in-law would be miserable, and that was not an enjoyable experience for anyone.

  Chapter Six

  When Arabella had still been quite small, she had frequently retreated to a quiet corner of her uncle’s back garden and pretended to take part in elaborate meals with very fine and fancy people. They, of course, had all been thrilled with her company, and she had been everything lauded in a young lady of distinction. Her conversation had been witty and her manners above reproach.

  Sitting at Lampton Park’s formal dining table that night, living the actual embodiment of those long-ago daydreams, Arabella found she was not so well equipped for the experience as she had once imagined herself to be. She was too overawed, too afraid of proving an embarrassment to the Jonquil family to be anything but silent. No witty repartee occurred to her, let alone emerged from her trembling lips. She, instead, kept very still, allowing all the others to speak while she did her utmost not to draw any attention to herself.

  She did take particular delight in watching the machinations of the Lancaster sisters as they slyly made every effort to force their brother to interact with Lady Belinda. He, as near as Arabella could tell, did not fully realize their designs; neither did he have any real interest in their current choice.

  She also kept her eyes and ears perked for any opportunity to be of assistance to Mater. Of the two Lady Lamptons, the younger seemed most in need of . . . something. She didn’t entirely refuse to participate in conversations, but she didn’t show any real enthusiasm either. Arabella would have been willing to help if only she knew how.

  When the ladies retreated to the drawing room after the meal, Arabella placed herself at enough of a distance to be unobtrusive but near enough to be easily summoned if Mater needed her.

  After only a brief interval, the gentlemen joined them. Despite herself, Arabella’s eyes fell first on Mr. Lancaster. She couldn’t help herself.

  “Mr. Lancaster.” Mater waved him over. “Will you settle a disagreement?”

  “I will do my best.” Mr. Lancaster stepped toward the gathering of ladies. He really was very handsome.

  “We are trying to decide what entertainment we ought to undertake tomorrow afternoon,” Mater said. “My second son and his wife will be joining us, as will a family of some importance—they have two daughters of socializing age—and I wish to find something we can all do that will not
be too chaotic.”

  They have two daughters. A barely withheld look of conspiratorial excitement crossed the Lancaster sisters’ faces. They were certainly trying their best to find their brother a wife. If Arabella’s long-held impossible dream of joining the Jonquil family had come true, she would likely have been a matchmaking “sister” as well. She cared about them so much; she would have done anything to help them find their happiness.

  “Since the activities are in the afternoon,” Mr. Lancaster said, “I would suggest lawn games. That would entertain a large number with little effort. If further entertainments are needed, perhaps a musical evening?”

  Mater looked intrigued. “Surely enough of the guests possess musical talents. Arabella plays the pianoforte quite well.”

  “Who is Arabella?”

  “Oh heavens.” Mater turned in her direction. Arabella’s heart lurched. “I have neglected introductions.”

  “Do not fret over it, my lady. You may simply do so now. I am certain the joy of meeting this elusive Arabella of yours will more than compensate for the delay.”

  A silver-tongued gentleman, this one. His sisters might find that their efforts were unnecessary. Between his handsome looks and honeyed words, Mr. Lancaster could claim the notice of nearly any lady.

  Mater walked with him to where Arabella sat. She knew what was expected of her in a formal introduction yet had very little actual experience. How she hoped she would not embarrass Mater by managing the thing poorly.

  She rose and attempted to look at ease. For his part, Mr. Lancaster looked more aloof than anything else. A man with his connections likely found an introduction to a lady’s companion something of a bother one must endure for the sake of being polite.

  “Arabella, this is Mr. Lancaster, who has served as a lieutenant in the Royal Navy.”

  A navy man. It was little wonder he exuded an aura of command.

  “Mr. Lancaster,” Mater continued, “this is Miss Hampton. She is a friend of the family, having grown up in the neighborhood, and now we have the joy of her living here, she having agreed to come be a help to me.”

  That was a generous way to describe her role.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Hampton,” Mr. Lancaster said.

  “And I you.” The three words emerged whole, which was an improvement over what she’d expected to happen.

  “I was telling Mr. Lancaster of your talent on the pianoforte,” Mater said. “We may have a musical entertainment tomorrow evening. I certainly hope you will play for us.”

  “Of course.” Again, she managed whole words. “I will do my best.”

  Mater waved that off and turned to Mr. Lancaster. “Do not let her modesty fool you. She is very talented.”

  Arabella’s face heated, though she was beyond pleased by the praise. She had taken great pains over the years to improve her abilities on the instrument. It was a source of both pleasure and pride.

  Philip called his mother over in the next moment. Arabella lowered herself once more to her chair, fully expecting to return to her isolation. Mr. Lancaster quite unexpectedly remained there.

  “This promises to be a fine house party,” he said.

  Though she was not particularly adept at conversation, this was a topic she felt relatively equal to discussing, having spent many days helping Mater with the final arrangements. “With such an impressive guest list, I cannot imagine the fortnight will be anything but an inarguable success.”

  Amusement filled his expressive green eyes. “It is still quite odd to hear my family described as ‘impressive.’ I well remember them as little girls climbing trees and chasing each other around the house in a very undignified manner. Now one of those sisters is a duchess. It is difficult to reconcile.”

  Arabella could appreciate that. “I knew the Jonquil brothers when they were young and endlessly mischievous. Now one of them is an earl.”

  “I have met the earl,” he said. “I do not think mischievous is a descriptor that belongs exclusively to his past.”

  Mr. Lancaster was more insightful than most people were. Philip’s antics were generally regarded as the entirety of his character rather than a single piece of a complicated puzzle.

  “If you think the oldest brother is impish, you should meet the youngest. I’ve never known anyone with his knack for finding himself in one scrape after another.”

  Mr. Lancaster laughed softly. “Younger brothers often have that talent.”

  Arabella couldn’t remember the last time she’d made someone laugh. She rather liked the experience.

  “May I ask you something, Miss Hampton?”

  “Yes, of course.” She couldn’t imagine what he meant to ask.

  He stood framed by the window. “Something about me thoroughly amused you during the wait for dinner and, if I am not mistaken, during the meal itself. I cannot for the life of me sort out what though.”

  She had not, then, kept her amusement hidden as she’d hoped.

  “I do not believe anything is terribly amiss in my appearance,” he said. “We had not yet been introduced, so you could not have been reacting to my odd name.”

  “‘Lancaster’ is not so strange.”

  He acknowledged that with a brief nod. “But ‘Linus’ is not particularly common.”

  “I suppose it isn’t.” She was managing a full conversation. That was unusual for her when faced with a stranger. She wasn’t shy; she had simply been rebuffed too often to approach conversations without trepidation. Stranger still, she was enjoying the undertaking.

  Mr. Lancaster leaned a shoulder against the window frame, watching her with every appearance of casual curiosity, yet something subtle in his posture spoke of discomfort. “Why were you laughing at me before dinner?” To her relief, he did not sound offended.

  “I was not laughing at you, Mr. Lanc—Lieutenant Lancaster.”

  He sighed a little, the sound one of weariness and resignation. “I have been Lieutenant Lancaster for nearly a decade, but I’m now retired and must accustom myself to being a mere mister.”

  “You prefer lieutenant?”

  “I confess I do.” The admission seemed to embarrass him. “I don’t know if that makes me prideful or simply stubborn.”

  “Why not both?”

  A laugh lit his eyes. “You have neatly avoided my question, Miss Hampton. What were you laughing about? I know it had something to do with me.” He crossed one arm over his chest while the other hooked upward so his finger could tap his chin. The pose and gesture contained a lavish measure of theatricality. “Every time I saw you holding back a laugh, someone was talking to me.” His gaze narrowed. “Always one of my sisters, if I am not mistaken.”

  She couldn’t deny the truth of that.

  “Ah. My sisters are involved. I should have known.” He nodded firmly. “They are scheming again; I can sense it in the air.”

  His overblown tone and mannerisms pulled a smile to her lips. He reminded her a little of Philip as he had been before his father’s passing: friendly, humorous, but not ridiculous in the way he often was now.

  “Their schemes must have something to do with me,” Mr. Lancaster said. “Surely you heard more detail.”

  Was he as entertained by this very odd conversation as she was? “I do not know that I am at liberty to divulge all that I heard.”

  “All that you heard? This conspiracy runs deep, does it?” He smiled a little as well. “And it involves me . . .” His eyes pulled wide. “Oh, lud. They are matchmaking, aren’t they? Or attempting it, at least.”

  She didn’t confirm his guess but suspected he didn’t need her to.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised. The first thing Athena said to me when I stepped on dry land was, ‘We need to get you married.’”

  She was conversing so easily with this gentleman who claimed a status so much high
er than hers. She wasn’t at all certain what to think of the unexpected situation.

  “Sisters can be a sore trial,” he said.

  “They would likely say the same thing about brothers. Unmarried brothers, at least.”

  He tipped his head, eying her ponderously. “What is the consensus on unmarried brothers who are vastly outnumbered?” He sighed as if enduring a very great ordeal.

  “While they are to be pitied,” Arabella said in tones of deep regret, “they are also quite fortunate; they have sisters who wish to see them happy.”

  “I, for one, wish to see those sisters squirm a little bit.” His smile twisted asymmetrically. “Now, if you will excuse me, I suspect one or more of my sisters is eying me impatiently.”

  Arabella leaned forward, enough to check the current focus of his sisters’ attention. As predicted, Mrs. Windover was watching him while the youngest sister was crossing the room toward him.

  He had turned to fully face Miss Lancaster by the time she arrived.

  “Linus, I need you to intervene,” she said at his side. “Mr. Jonquil is not flirting with me.”

  “And you want him to be?”

  Miss Lancaster threaded her arm through her brother’s. “I never said I wanted him to; I simply want him to want to.”

  “Does Adam have any idea how much trouble you are going to be?”

  Miss Lancaster laughed low. “What he doesn’t know is that I haven’t even begun giving him trouble.”

  Arabella turned her gaze to the window to keep her amusement hidden. Once the party truly got underway and Mr. Lancaster was provided with ample diversions, he would forget that he’d spent a few moments speaking with her. But she would think on it for days. She seldom spoke easily with strangers. She seldom spoke at all.

  “You have so very much to say today,” the earl had once remarked after she’d chattered incessantly about one subject after another.