“No apology necessary,” Rex said. “I need to speak with Lucas, if you would not mind?”
“No need,” Lucas said abruptly. “I am retiring to my room for the evening. My apologies to everyone for having emotions.” Head held high, he stalked from the room.
Now Rex did sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache starting.
“We will do our best to avoid him for the rest of the week,” Hood said, sounding even more apologetic.
“No need,” Rex said, shaking his head. “I will have a word with him tomorrow morning, once he sleeps it off. He will not bother you again.”
“You do nae always have to take responsibility for him, you know,” Perth said, one blond eyebrow rising in question. “At some point, he is going to have to be accountable for himself.”
“I know.” He said the words, but even he could hear the hollow quality. At some point during their lives, he had assumed the burden of pulling Lucas out of scrapes, both large and small. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
He made his way back to the front door, but Cormack had disappeared, meaning Warrick had already made his way back inside.
Heaving a deep sigh, Rex stared out the front windows into the night. Behind him, in his house, all sorts of revelry and debauchery continued, but his heart was not in it. Not for tonight, at least. Perhaps tomorrow.
Chapter 3
Mary
With Mary’s uncle two stones lighter and healthier than ever and his heir happily wed to Lady Arabella, her aunt’s eye was now firmly fixed on Mary’s future. Mary would never wish another scare like her uncle’s heart had given them in the middle of her Season last year, but it certainly had been much easier to sneak around when Aunt Elizabeth was fluttering over Uncle Henry instead.
“Do not worry, Mary, we will find you a husband this year,” Aunt Elizabeth said from her place at the breakfast table, with all the assurance of a matchmaking matron on a mission. The glint of determination in her dark eyes was a tad unnerving. Fashionably attired in a dark grey-and-silver day dress that set off the white strands winding about the coils of her dark hair to perfection, she looked every inch the proper English lady. While she might be ‘only’ a viscountess, she was well respected and influential in Society, and her consequence had been increased after Thomas married Lady Arabella last year.
The only sister of the Duke of Manchester, Arabella was vivacious, charming, and a touch wild. Truth be told, she reminded Mary quite a bit of Josie. It was likely why Mary had felt more comfortable around Arabella than the other young ladies she had met the year prior—Arabella was a very friendly person and did not stand on ceremony, which helped a great deal as well.
“What kind do you want?” Arabella asked, her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. Thomas’ head lifted from his newspaper, a frown already beginning to form on his face. Marriage to Arabella had loosened his stuffy personality somewhat, but not entirely, and he clearly suspected his wife’s question was going to lead somewhere inappropriate.
“What do you mean?” Not above a little mischief herself, Mary was truly curious.
“Do you want a husband with a title? Should he be a Corinthian or a scholar? A businessman or a gentleman? A rogue or—”
“That is quite enough,” Thomas interrupted, putting down his toast. “Mary is certainly not going to marry a rogue.”
At the end of the table, the pages of Uncle Henry’s newspaper shook, and she thought she heard a soft chuckle behind the paper barrier.
Unbidden, the broad shoulders and tawny hair of one particular rogue rose in her mind. Mary ruthlessly pushed the handsome face back into the recesses of her brain. The man might be involved in treason, for goodness sake. He would not make a comfortable husband, either. The one thing she knew for sure was she wanted a husband who would be faithful to her. Hartford hardly seemed like a good bet for constancy.
“Arabella has a point,” Aunt Elizabeth said, turning to look thoughtfully at Mary. “You had the opportunity to look about the ton last year and form an opinion on the offerings available. It is also important to know what kind of life you want, whether you wish to live in the country, the city, or travel between the two.”
“I…” Mary’s voice trailed off, and her cheeks flushed. She was embarrassed to realize she had not given it much thought. Last year, she had been overwhelmed by Society, then the guilt of Aunt Elizabeth refusing to cut her Season short even after Uncle Henry’s small heart scare, as well as watching Hartford, Arabella, and Thomas dance around each other, and missing her friends. This year, she had been so focused on Evie’s assignment and thinking of everything she could show her friends now that they were all in London, she had barely given a thought to her personal reasons for attending the Season. Which would not do at all.
She was already twenty and on her second season. While she might conceivably eke out a third without too much censure, ideally—from all perspectives—she would make a match of it this year. She could not expect her aunt and uncle to continue returning to London just for her. They usually only attended the Season every other year.
“Do think on it, dear,” Aunt Elizabeth said, reaching over to pat Mary’s hand sympathetically. Then her eyes brightened. “Perhaps we can make a list of suitors to discuss, and once we have crossed off some of their names, we can go from there. I am sure Thomas could suggest some worthy gentlemen.”
Mary did her best to keep her expression blank, but she burst into giggles when she saw the face Arabella made. Arabella grinned at her while Thomas’ frown deepened.
“I will help, too,” Arabella said, winking at Mary. “We can write to Gabrielle and see if she has any ideas, so she will feel included.” Currently, Thomas’ brother Felix and his wife, Gabrielle, who was Arabella’s best friend, were at their home, taking care of their infant daughter. They had not wanted to come to town this year, with Beatrice being only a few months old.
“There will be nothing wrong with my suggestions,” Thomas said, affronted.
Arabella rolled her eyes. “Of course not, dear.” She smiled placatingly at him. “I am sure they will all be very proper, stalwart gentlemen.”
“That is not a bad thing,” Thomas huffed.
“What is not a bad thing?” Walter asked, striding into the room. The younger Hood brother was paler than normal with dark circles under his eyes, and his clothes were not up to their usual sartorial neatness. He had never been as clean cut as Thomas, but he normally did not wear a wrinkled waistcoat, even to breakfast.
Mary watched him with interest. Walter had been very much a presence in Hood House last Season, and she had enjoyed his company. This year, he had been playing least-in-sight, and when she did see him, there was a secretive air hanging about him. While he had never flaunted his rakish activities, he had never hidden them either, which made all of it very mysterious.
“We are going to make a list of gentlemen for Mary to consider this Season, and Thomas is going to make some suggestions,” Arabella said succinctly, her eyes dancing with amusement. Mary giggled as Walter made a face that closely resembled the one Arabella had made.