Joshua grinned. “Ah, I have fond memories of that house.”
Ronan stared at him, wondering at his addlepated expression. “You do? Why?”
“Never mind, little brother. It isn’t important.”
“Fine.” He shook his head. “I have no idea what you are talking about or why you have that cat-ate-the-canary grin on your face. What do you think of what I’ve proposed?”
Joshua and Robbie gave their approval.
Good.
Three excellent military brains in agreement on his tactics.
What could possibly go wrong?
CHAPTER FOUR
It was dark, and a chill wind had whipped up off the Thames by the time Ronan left his office and made his way to Number Three Chipping Way. The Farthingale butler showed him in, his face expressionless except for the slight twinkle in his eyes. “Welcome, Captain Brayden.”
“Thank you, Pruitt.” Ah, yes. He knew what the man was thinking, for he had been in service with the family for decades and seen the parade of hapless bachelors fall victim to these beautiful Farthingale women. Welcome, indeed.
What Pruitt really meant was: Resistance is useless. You are already ensnared. No point in fighting the inevitable.
If anyone were resistant, it would be Dahlia.
Pruitt led him into the elegant parlor decorated in shades of blue and then went to announce his presence to John Farthingale, the head of the household. Ronan looked around the room, noting the pale blue silk of the chairs and settee, and the darker blue velvet of the drapes. He noticed the floral pattern on the decorative pillows and other accents around the room. Not that he had ever bothered to look at such things in his entire life. But it was something important to Dahlia, so he did not want to overlook these details.
John greeted him with an outstretched hand, and John’s wife, Sophie, bussed his cheek. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” John asked.
Sophie rolled her eyes and took a seat on the sofa. “Honestly, John. We all know why he has stopped by. Dahlia will be down in a moment, Captain Brayden. Thank you for what you did the other day. While I don’t usually condone violence, in this case, it was warranted. Lord Wainscott deserved to be soundly thrashed.”
John chuckled. “I had to hold my wife back. Her hands were curled into fists, and she was ready to take down that blackguard on her own. But I am relieved you got to him first. He is no gentleman. I would not put it beyond him to hit a lady.”
“Oh, John. Let us speak no more of that wretched man. Poor Dahlia has been moping around the house all day because of him. He isn’t worth all this attention.”
“Indeed, he isn’t, Mrs. Farthingale.” But Ronan said no more as Dahlia, Heather, and their cousin, Violet, walked in just then.
It was a struggle to tear his gaze from Dahlia. Even when despondent, she looked incredibly beautiful. While she had complained about the color of her hair and eyes, it seemed to him these features were among her finest assets. They complemented whatever gown she chose to wear, no matter the color. She looked stunning. The gown she had on now was dark blue and had no adornment other than a white fichu held in place by a cameo brooch pinned to the fabric at her bosom.
Not that he meant to stare at her bosom, but it was impossible not to notice the magnificent swell of...
Violet was grinning at him.
So was Heather.
Sophie and John exchanged amused looks.
Blessed saints.
“Good evening, Captain Brayden.” Violet was still grinning at him. “I hope you had a lovely day.”
“I did,” he said with a nod and settled in a chair beside the one Dahlia had chosen. This met with a nod of approval from Violet. Oh, yes. She was going to help him out. Her matchmaking instincts were on fire.
He could see why his cousin, Romulus, was wildly in love with her. She was a little bubble of champagne, charming and effervescent. Despite her striking beauty, she was genuinely warm and held no conceit. Violet also had one of the finest singing voices in all of England, but she never put on airs. In fact, she was ridiculously modest about her talents.
Heather was the shy one in the family, but obviously felt more comfortable around him after yesterday’s incident when they’d both been trying to console Dahlia. “We had a quiet day at home,” she said. “Dahlia did not want to go out.”
He turned to Dahlia. “Why is that?”
She glanced out the window. “It was too cold.”
“I see. Well, perhaps tomorrow then. I’ll come around in the morning and take you for a walk in the park. Do you think you will feel up to it?”
She took a deep breath. “Of course. I am perfectly fine. Tomorrow will be perfect. Just perfect.”
He turned to Violet and Heather. “Will you join us?”
They gave enthusiastic nods. Dahlia’s maid would have served as chaperone otherwise, but these two were not about to pass up the opportunity to watch him and Dahlia together.
Despite Dahlia’s protestations that she was fine, perfectly fine, he did not believe her at all. In truth, she looked quite sad. He had not expected her to be chirpy, but it rankled that she was still torn up about her old beau. “Then, it is settled.”
He rose to leave, knowing he’d interrupted the family’s evening and did not wish to impose on them further.
“Captain Brayden, do stay for supper,” Sophie said. “You are most welcome.”
He glanced at Dahlia, not wishing to impose if she was not yet ready to accept his company.
But Heather and Violet took the matter out of her hands with an echoing chorus of “Yes, please do.”
He nodded. “Thank you, I will.”
It would also give him the chance to quietly plan their next meetings. Since most of his days were taken up with work, and often his evenings were occupied with social engagements, they would not have many opportunities to get together to read the book.
He would have gladly refused the social engagements if it were possible. But most of them were important for his work. A large part of his role as liaison was to make the connections necessary to secure funds needed for the navy.
Dahlia was not likely to attend many of those affairs, so he had to set some time apart for her.
They sauntered over to the dining room, and Ronan was surprised to note only eight of them sat for supper. In addition to the six of them was John’s brother, Rupert, and a maiden aunt.
Hortensia Farthingale, the aunt, was a permanent fixture in their home. She was a bit of a curmudgeon and had no sooner taken her seat at the table than she began to eye him warily. “Another Brayden,” she muttered with a grunt and said nothing further.
“A pleasure to see you again, Hortensia. You are looking quite lovely this evening.” He cast her a rakish grin, knowing he probably should not goad her, but the woman was a bit of a dragon, and he knew she would give back twice as good as she got. Her glance alone could cut any man down to size.
In any event, if he teased her, it would only be gentle teasing.
She believed all Brayden men were depraved, lusting hounds - thank you Romulus, Finn, and Joshua - but still enjoyed a clever wit and good conversation. He wanted her on his side as he courted Dahlia. Surely, his intentions had to be obvious to everyone, except for Dahlia, who had been kicked too hard to believe anyone would ever want her again.