Eleven
I paced my bedroom, bemoaning my fate and cursing my ill luck, stopping just short of wishing I had never gone to the Hickmores’. I wasn’t fool enough to wish that undone, for if I hadn’t gone, I would never have met Mr. Northam. And I would never regret meeting Mr. Northam.
If only he’d proposed. Or come yesterday. Or this morning. Any of those options would have sufficed.
But would it have done any good? My father had already made the arrangement by then.
A sudden thought stopped my feet. What if he came now? What would I do? Surely Mr. Northam would honor his cousin’s engagement.
Yet he’d called Lord Williams a blackguard, which implied his disapproval of him. If Mr. Northam did, in fact, hate his cousin as I did, as I hoped he did, then I could count on him to help rescue me. But if they were friends as well as cousins—
If they were friends, Mr. Northam would certainly relinquish any claim he felt he had.
It was best not to gamble with the chance of Mr. Northam’s arriving until I found a way out of this engagement. I had to get word to him somehow, urging him not to come. But such a note could never come from me—not unless it was contained inside another letter written by a man. My thoughts automatically flew to my father, but he would never write such a note under the present circumstances. Which left only Daniel. Who would also never help.
I began to pace again, then stopped. If I told Daniel to inform Mr. Northam that he should stay away because there was no point in his coming anymore, surely he would do that. It would be playing to Daniel’s desires. This could all work out wonderfully. I would speak to him about it tonight.
For dinner I wore my plainest yellow evening dress adorned with no more than a simple gold necklace and my hair in a bun, all in the hope to drive home the message of my lack of interest in impressing the baron. Ignoring my mother’s look of disapproval at my attire, I silently followed my family into the dining room.
“Lord Williams,” my father said, indicating a place at the table. Next to mine.
I halted mid-step.
Lord Williams nodded and moved to his seat, resting his hands on the back of his chair while waiting for everyone to take their places. I couldn’t move. I would have to sit next to him. And not just for tonight. I would have to sit next to him for every meal throughout his stay.
“Margaret.” My mother’s voice jarred me to the recognition that everyone was looking at me. I shuffled to my chair.
The table was beautifully laid, the servants having worked all day to make this dinner perfect, and I made a mental note to compliment them later, though I wished there were at least one small, repulsive something on the table that would make the baron uncomfortable. I wondered how difficult it would be to discover a dish he found particularly abhorrent and ensure it was served as a main course while he visited.
As the meal began, Alice’s observations about the day were interspersed with Daniel’s bark of laughter, my mother’s comments, and even Lord Williams’s occasional remark. I took no part in the conversation. To do so, to pretend that everything was normal when that man was sitting next to me, smiling and conversing with my family as easily as though he were a part of it already, seemed a falsehood too deep to attempt.
I picked at my food, spreading the fish around on the plate.
Then I stopped. Why should I allow the baron’s presence to alter my habits? Doing so surely granted him some power over me. I shoved my queasiness aside and gingerly placed a bite on my tongue. It melted and my stomach relaxed. I smiled at my immunity to the baron and took another bite.
“Lord Williams, do you by any chance speak Russian?” Daniel asked.
I nearly spit my food out on my plate. As it was, I coughed into my napkin and quickly took a drink.
“I’m afraid I don’t,” the baron responded, eyeing me as though with a desire to scoot his chair farther away.
“A pity,” Daniel said. “Margaret has a great love for the language. I do hope you enjoy the opera, though.”
“I do. Miss Brinton, you enjoy the opera?”
“I have never been,” I replied, glaring at Daniel from under my lashes.
Daniel shook his head sadly. “No, she hasn’t. But she is determined to like it nevertheless.”
If the opportunity ever presented itself, I wouldn’t hesitate to shove Daniel in the lake. And I would make certain he knew it was on purpose.
“I would suggest going later in the season if you particularly wish to enjoy the occasion,” Lord Williams offered. “Never on opening night, as the theater is thronged with gossips who have no intention of viewing the performance.”
Only an idiot wouldn’t know that about opening night at the London opera. No doubt the baron thought us nothing more than country bumpkins. I set my fork down.
“Very good to know. Thank you,” Daniel responded, catching my eye roll.
After a moment, Lord Williams leaned toward me. “You do not enjoy fish?”
His quiet question caught me off guard. “Yes. I do.” I readjusted the napkin in my lap.
“Hm. I’d hate to see how you treated food you didn’t like.”
“It isn’t the food I find disagreeable.” I clamped my mouth shut. I was allowing myself to be as rude to him as he had been to me and, though he may not object to his character, I vehemently opposed it. I needed to hold my tongue and be polite, like Louisa could.
I reclaimed my fork. If my mouth was full, I wouldn’t have to speak.
“You seem to find many things disagreeable, Miss Brinton. Perhaps not all of them are deserving of your criticism.”
“I do not find many things disagreeable. But when I do, it is usually because the thing has provided me with no other option.”
I speared a piece of fish with my fork.
Before I could take a bite, however, Lord Williams leaned toward me. “Or perhaps it is simply because you yourself are disagreeable.”
I gaped at him. He smiled and shifted away to converse with my mother.
Horrid man. Is this really what he wanted for a marriage? He was a baron; any number of women would have been ecstatic for such an offer. Why had he chosen to ruin my life in particular?
The dinner dishes were cleared away and a dark dessert topped with cream was placed on the table. I hoped it was laced with just enough poison to make the baron ill.
“Margaret, you will play for us tonight,” my father said.
I glanced up from the table. I couldn’t play in front of the baron again, not after the debacle of last time. “Father, Lord Williams had the opportunity to hear me play at the Hickmores’. I’m afraid he found it rather lacking and not in the least enjoyable.”
My father raised his brows.
“Besides,” I continued quickly, “Alice was looking forward to Daniel reading to us.”
“Oh, yes, Papa,” Alice exclaimed. “Please.”
My father nodded his assent and I sighed with relief at avoiding another catastrophe.
The men lingered remarkably long after dinner. I tried to sew, but between wondering what the men were discussing and my anxiety to speak to Daniel regarding Mr. Northam, my stitches were wide and misshapen. I began to unstitch everything and start over.
The moment the men joined us, I sidled up next to Daniel. “I need to speak with you.”