“I don’t believe Mr. Wright has a seat.” Lord Elkins’s snide remark was delivered on cue.
“Neither does Mr. Cooper,” Miss Russell said, “so I see no reason why that should prevent him from going with you. Provided he would like to do so, of course.”
Lord Elkins frowned while taking another bite of his food.
Blayne met Miss Russell’s gaze and offered her an appreciative smile. “Unfortunately, business must come first and since this is a busy time of year for me, I fear I must decline.”
“Perhaps I can see it one day?” Mr. Cooper asked.
“See what?” Lady Elkins inquired.
“Mr. Wright’s company,” Mr. Cooper clarified.
Blayne nearly forgot to breathe and although his attention was no longer on Miss Russell, he knew she was having a similar problem. He reached for his wine, took a sip, allowed a moment to pass…
“I will do my best to find a suitable day for it,” Blayne replied. To his relief, his voice flowed with the smoothness of a trained liar. God help him. This situation was getting completely out of hand. He fought the urge to glance at Miss Russell and tried to focus his mind on the money he earned by helping her out. Inspired, he turned to Lord Elkins. “You’re welcome too, my lord.”
Lord Elkins made a gruff non-committal sound and nodded. Plates were cleared and the main course arrived. It consisted of suckling pig with baby potatoes, steamed asparagus, and mushrooms in a creamy sauce. There was no need for Blayne to look at Miss Russell for him to feel her eyes upon him. He could sense her willing his gaze in her direction, no doubt with every intention of serving him a silent reprimand for not turning Mr. Cooper down flat.
In Blayne’s estimation, doing so would have been a mistake. If anything, it would only have piqued Lord Elkins’s suspicions. Grateful to Lady Elkins for bringing up a new exhibit at the British Museum, Blayne kept quiet and ate his food. He’d have to have another word with Guthrie so there would be a respectable business for him to show off in case things went completely sideways. Lord, he dreaded that conversation already.
“Miss Russell,” Mr. Cooper said when a lull arose in the conversation, “I wonder what your interests might be.”
“Oh, Charlotte loves to paint and embroider,” Lady Elkins said.
A snort escaped Blayne’s throat. He coughed to mask the insult. “Forgive me.”
“Commendable activities for a young lady,” Mr. Cooper said, “though I would like to hear her speak of them.”
Blayne almost cheered and suggested a toast in Mr. Cooper’s honor.
“Oh. Of course,” Lady Elkins said with prim indignation.
“To be honest,” Miss Russell said, “I loathe painting and embroidery.”
“What do you like then?” Mr. Cooper asked.
“Shooting and archery, along with reading and writing.”
Lady Elkins groaned.
“Mr. Cooper.” Lord Elkins grinned in an apologetic manner. “What Charlotte means to say is that she’s a skilled markswoman with a penchant for literature.”
“Ah.” Mr. Cooper nodded. “We’ve something in common then since I also enjoy shooting for sport. Which books do you favor?”
Miss Russell scowled with distinct displeasure, forcing Blayne to press his lips together in order to keep from laughing. It did seem as though Mr. Cooper was far more agreeable and better suited to her than she’d expected.
“There’s a new author,” Miss Russell said, her voice tight with defiance. “His name is Charles Cunningham.”
Lady Elkins gasped while Lord Elkins spoke his daughter’s name in warning.
Mr. Cooper ignored them both. “The novelist who writes outrageous adventure novels?”
“You’ve heard of him?” Miss Russell asked while Blayne raised his eyebrows in equal surprise. The books were fairly new. He’d not have thought they’d have made it across the Atlantic yet.
“An acquaintance of mine was in London last year. He picked up a copy of… The Earl’s…um…”
“The Earl’s Secret Escapades,” Miss Russell supplied.
“Yes. That’s the one,” Mr. Cooper said. “Strange book. Very little made sense.”
“Unfortunately, the author seems to pride himself on shocking people,” Lady Elkins said.
“Have you even read one of his books, Mama?” Miss Russell stared at her mother with abject displeasure.
“No, and I do not need to in order to know his books do not belong in respectable households.”
“I enjoy them,” Blayne said, deciding to defend his favorite author and Miss Russell’s shared appreciation for his work. “They’re marvelously entertaining.”
“But completely illogical,” Mr. Cooper argued. “I mean, the very idea of a man dangling from a roof by his fingertips for a full minute is utterly preposterous.”
“I’m guessing he had very strong fingers,” Blayne muttered.
The plates were removed and dessert brought in.
Mr. Cooper waited for the footmen to retreat to their positions by the wall before saying, “I prefer something more relatable – grounded in reality – not to mention less provocative.”
“Provocative?” Lord Elkins asked.
“The story is not designed to be realistic,” Miss Russell said with surprising passion for someone who simply enjoyed Mr. Cunningham’s style. She’d clearly turned this discussion into a crusade meant to push Mr. Cooper out of her life forever. “It is only meant to entertain.”
“The banter between the characters is hilarious,” Blayne said, deciding to offer additional support.
“I found it…silly, for lack of a better word,” Mr. Cooper said with a shrug.
“Silly?” Miss Russell squeaked.
Blayne spooned a piece of chocolate cake into his mouth. His appreciation for the American was now in swift decline. Judging from Miss Russell’s expression, she’d like to hit him over the head with something.
“I’d still like to know what you meant by provocative,” Lord Elkins said.
“Well,” Mr. Cooper said, “there are several impassioned embraces between the main character and his lover.”
“Good grief,” Lady Elkins gasped. “I’d no idea.”
“They kiss with heated fervor,” Mr. Cooper continued, “and it is mentioned, if I’m not mistaken, that they have a rambunctious time together in bed.”
Blayne wasn’t sure what to say to that. The man wasn’t wrong, only Blayne hadn’t really thought twice about that particular scene. After all, the book was penned by a man and featured a hero who, as a bachelor, would naturally have a paramour.
Lord Elkins, however, did not look like he would ever share this opinion. His face was turning a deep shade of crimson, and his eyes, which had been hard to begin with, were now like a pair of lethal spears. “Had I known, I never would have permitted you to read such rubbish, Charlotte.”
“Papa—”
“You will bring me whatever books you have by this author so they can be gotten rid of. Is that clear?”
“My lord,” Blayne began without really knowing what to say next. “I don’t believe Mr. Cunningham’s writing is as inappropriate as Mr. Cooper suggests. Perhaps you should read one of them first before passing judgment.”