“Spare me your friendly rounds, Dorning. Della managed to slip off with Chastain and get as far as bedamned Alconbury. I am her brother, she is under my protection, and I failed her. Forgive me if, because I doubt my ability to keep my sister safe, I am assuring myself of her veracity.”
Ah, well then. “You need not be ashamed,” Ash said, comparing the time on his pocket watch with the time on the eight-day clock. “Della has more cunning than you give her credit for. With older siblings talking over her and mistaking her diminutive stature for diminutive intelligence, she’s had to develop some guile.”
Haddonfield’s scowl became perplexed. “We don’t talk over her.”
Where was Della? “The next time you have a family meal, watch how many times she’s interrupted and talked over. Watch who asks interesting questions of whom and who is merely supposed to pass the butter on command. I am familiar with this tendency only because Sycamore has complained of the same treatment. He was late to grow into the family height, and the lack of inches and years afflicted him sorely.”
“We love Della,” Haddonfield said. “We love her especially because…” He looked around, as if the carpet, wallpaper, or furniture had all been changed the previous day.
“You love her because she’s a half-sister to some of you and no blood relation at all to others.” Including to Bellefonte himself. Nicholas was the product of his father’s first union. Della’s mother had been the late earl’s second wife. The Haddonfield family tree resembled a thorny hedge more than a sturdy oak.
“We love her because she’s special,” Haddonfield said. “And if you break her heart again…”
“You’ll meet me at Jackson’s?” Ash had not broken Della’s heart. Disappointed her, yes, but broken her heart—God, no. Please not that.
“My countess likes my handsome phiz in its current arrangement,” Haddonfield replied. “You are rumored to have lethal speed and a devilish cold temper in the boxing arena.”
A soft tread outside the door had Ash putting his watch away. “One doesn’t step into the ring to play pat-a-cake while stripped to the waist, does one?”
The footsteps faded, and Ash found himself the subject of Haddonfield’s blue-eyed scrutiny. “Dorning, what exactly are you about with Della?”
“I am about providing her a cordial escort for her next few social outings. I will be seen to gaze longingly after her retreating form, to caress her gloved hand unnecessarily when I walk with her, and to generally lay my heart at her feet—discreetly, of course. She will lead me a bit of a dance, then send me on my way.”
Haddonfield wrinkled his nose. “If you’re besotted enough to engage in this farce, you’re besotted enough to propose in earnest. Why not simply marry her?”
The question hurt worse than a left uppercut at the end of the twentieth round. “Her ladyship and I would not suit.”
“The hell you wouldn’t.” Haddonfield prowled around the piano and stalked up to Ash. “She wrote to you in Dorset. I franked the letters, and I know you never wrote back. She writes to all of our siblings, but Susannah gets twice the mail, because Della hopes your brother Willow will mention something about you to Susannah. Everywhere we go, Della surreptitiously looks for you, and is disappointed to find you not among the guests.” Haddonfield leaned closer. “You have made my sister pathetic.”
Ash fluffed his lordship’s cravat. “Do not, I beg you, refer to Lady Della as pathetic. I would love to go twelve rounds with you, assuming you lasted that long.”
The pounding would be glorious, and the recovery days of sheer, righteous hell.
Haddonfield patted Ash’s lapel with an enormous paw. “If Della catches sight of you at some damned musicale, she stares out of windows for the next week. If she sees you at a ball, she takes out her embroidery the next morning and sews not a single stitch for hours. Has it occurred to you, Mr. Dunderheaded Dorning, that this whole melodrama with Chastain might have been a ploy to gain your attention?”
A left uppercut followed by a merciless straight right. “Her ladyship was doubtless attempting to earn a respite from her siblings’ matchmaking.”
Haddonfield straightened. “Meaning she never intended to marry Chastain. My countess suggested as much. So how did the outing in the park truly go?”
Haddonfield was known as an exceedingly genial man, a doting paterfamilias, and kind to children and animals. He was well liked, well connected, and well heeled.
And he—all seventeen stone of him—was afraid for his youngest sister. “The outing truly did go well. Grudging nods, mostly. Lady Caldicott tried for the cut direct, but we were on foot, and I made it a point to occupy the middle of the path and bow over her hand. She relented. Her Grace of Moreland chatted Della up long enough that other people had to notice.”
Haddonfield made a face. “That was likely Lord Valentine’s influence. He’s close to his parents. What did Her Grace and Della discuss?”
“Nothing of any consequence. The mild weather, the relief from summer’s heat, the Morelands’ harvest, and Her Grace’s newest grandchild. Her Grace’s generosity was in talking to Della at all.”
Haddonfield snorted. “You will not find a randier, more headstrong, and unconventional lot in Mayfair than Moreland’s get. I consider Lord Valentine a friend.”
“I consider Lady Della a friend.” One who was due to make her appearance now, please God.
Haddonfield ambled over to a bust of some beaky old Roman and propped an elbow on the philosopher’s head. The earl was tall enough that this occasioned an unlordly slouch.
“Would it be so bad, being married to Della?” The question held a wheedling note.
“The query from your perspective ought to be: Would it be so bad for Lady Della to marry me, and I can answer that. Marriage to me is not a fate any woman you care for deserves.”
Haddonfield propped his chin on his hand and treated Ash to a slow perusal. “Why? You aren’t ugly, you have an income. You are of suitable family, and she’s smitten with you.”
Because I become insensate with irrational sorrow and indifferent to decency. I become numb to joy and in thrall to despair. I lose days to darkness and weeks to a paralyzing lack of motivation. I become an animal beyond the reach of reason.
“We would not suit, Haddonfield. I esteem Lady Della above all other women and wish only for her happiness, but we would not suit.”
Haddonfield looked like he wanted to protest, or perhaps throw a punch or two, but his expression became all smiles when Della strode through the door.
“Darling sister, you brighten the day with your feminine pulchritude. That is a fetching frock.”
Della stuck her tongue out at him. “You needn’t lay it on so thick, Nicky dear. I dressed so as not to call attention to myself. Mr. Dorning, you are punctual. Shall we be off?”
Della exuded her usual brisk energy, and her smile was warm. Her ensemble was a soft brown velvet dress with red piping that went nicely with her chestnut brown hair. Her eyes, though, gave away a hint of worry.
“The dress complements your coloring,” Ash said. “Your brother was only being gallant.”