Chapter Seven

It was beyond tempting to skip breakfast.

Arthur eyed himself in the mirror in the morning and traced the line of his scar with one fingertip. It looked no different from usual, but last night, he'd almost felt as though his head were going to split apart.

No doubt Lord Vincent had learned that sharp, sudden noises were the finest way to disorient a veteran. Arthur had spent the rest of the evening curled up in bed, his fine clothes pulled off and tangled on the floor. He had one single candle to light up his room and pressed his face into the pillow in an attempt to make the pain stop.

It did, after about an hour of quiet and rest, although his mind would neither allow him to sleep or to go back downstairs and rejoin the gathering. No doubt the other players would be keen to tell their friends of the new Lord Lanwood's strangeness, how he'd jumped out of his skin at the sound of breaking glass, had screamed and knocked the card-table, then run out of the room most oddly.

Well, let them talk, he thought grimly. He wouldn't cower in his room. There was no point hiding from his guests – it would only make him look odder. He could wear his ordinary, comfortable clothes, eat with his guests, then retire to his study to work. There'd be nothing odd with that, and he might as well get it all over with.

Besides, it was breakfast time, and he was hungry.

The others were already gathered in the dining room for breakfast. Mr. and Mrs. Thornhill were there, along with Lord Daniel Thornhill. Lucy and Beatrice were in their usual places, along with Miss Thornhill, naturally. The clinking of cutlery and muted conversation died down as he entered.

Wonderful, Arthur thought bleakly.

"Good morning, Arthur," Lucy and Beatrice said, almost at the same time.

"Are you feeling better?" Lucy said, smiling hopefully at him. "Everybody was asking about you. I told them you do get dreadful headaches, but you'd enjoyed the party very much until then."

He smiled weakly at Lucy, sliding into the only available place left at the table, which put him between Mrs. Thornhill and Miss Thornhill.

"Thank you, Lucy. I appreciate you making my apologies for me."

He imagined poor Lucy, who was meant to be enjoying herself, gliding through the party and dropping a word here and there into people's ears, explaining where their host had gone and how it wasn't really his fault at all. He hoped Lord Vincent had left her alone.

"Do you often get megrims, Lord Lanwood?" Miss Thornhill inquired.

Since they were sitting side by side, it was easy for Arthur to keep his eyes on his plate and on the dishes in front of him, instead of glancing at her. She was wearing a simple but flattering grey gown and had her hair done up in loose curls. It was very becoming, and he really had no right to notice such things.

"I'm afraid so," he said, helping himself to a few slices of toast. "I am sorry to have disrupted our card game last night."

"It's of little consequence," Miss Thornhill said, after a pause. He had the impression that she was looking at him, and he was determined not to look at her.

It was rare for a lady to stare straight at a gentleman in that way, with such a direct, unblinking gaze. Arthur had always thought it ridiculous that ladies were meant to direct their gazes downwards, and not look a gentleman in the eyes for too long, or at all. It reeked of false modesty and unequal standards.

Miss Thornhill, apparently, thought so too.

"Can the doctors do nothing for your megrims?" Miss Thornhill asked, after a pause.

"I'm afraid not," he answered. "Nothing beyond the usual – keeping noise to a minimum, and resting in a cool, dark room whenever the attacks come. It's really nothing to worry about, Miss Thornhill."

The implication was quite clear. Miss Thornhill took the hint and changed the subject.

"I'm having a little al-fresco luncheon later today," Beatrice spoke up. "I've invited a few people. Do come, Arthur."

Arthur forced himself to smile at his mother. The prospect of a lunch with other guests, al-fresco or otherwise, made him feel vaguely sick. He wanted his calm, dark study, with his books and his work to keep him entertained.

"Of course I'll come." He responded lightly. There wasn't much else to say, really.

***

Beatrice had been true to her word, and only a few guests arrived. Tables and chairs were set up on the terrace, and there was talk of spreading some blankets on the lawn for a picnic. After a long and boring conversation about the dampness of the earth and possibly catching a chill, this idea was abandoned, but filed away for use at a future date.

Arthur was bored already.

He'd chosen a long wooden bench in the corner of the terrace, away from the others.

"You seem a little tense, Lord Lanwood."

The sound of Miss Thornhill's voice only served to make him tense up further. She took a seat on the bench beside him, spreading out her skirts, and flashed a smile.

Heat flared briefly in Arthur's chest.

"I am surprised you are speaking to me, Miss Thornhill, after I offended you so entirely only yesterday."

She chuckled. "I am not very good at holding grudges, Lord Lanwood. I forget things entirely too quickly. It takes a remarkable amount of energy to hold onto resentment, and I prefer to direct my energy to other things."

"Like botany?"

"Like botany," she confirmed. She smiled at him again, and this time, Arthur risked a smile back.

He hadn't offended her. They'd had an inauspicious start, but she seemed inclined to forget. His scar shouldn't bother her, after all.

Perhaps they could part ways as friends. Heaven knew Arthur needed all the friends he could get.

"Again, I am sorry about the business with the card tables."

She shook her head. "Please, think no more of it. It was clear that Lord Vincent's antics set off your megrims. He should be ashamed. I was all set to throw him out by his ears, but Lucy said that it wouldn't be the thing for us to do."

"She's right, I'm afraid," Arthur admitted. "Lord Vincent is not a popular man – that is, he is popular in all the wrong places. You know how stringent Society can be on who is excluded and who must be included."

"Yes, it's nonsensical."

"Did you have an opportunity to read that book from the library, yet?"

She brightened a little, glancing at him almost questioningly, as if not sure if he truly meant to ask that question.

"I read a little, but…"

She trailed off, gaze slipping over his shoulder. Arthur turned to look, and his heart sank at the sight of Mr. and Mrs. Thornhill bearing down on them.

"Well, well, this will be our first proper conversation together, Lord Lanwood!" Mrs. Thornhill greeted, gesturing for Miss Thornhill to move aside and slotting herself between her daughter and Arthur. There was really not room for three on the bench, but it didn't seem to bother Mrs. Thornhill. Mr. Thornhill hovered nervously in front of them, hands tucked tightly behind his back.

"Yes, I do apologise," Arthur managed hesitantly. He was conscious of a pooling feeling of disappointment in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to talk to Miss Thornhill, and that was a dangerous place to begin.

Miss Thornhill was pretty, rich, and charming, with plenty of friends and a decent family behind her. She would not be interested in a scarred recluse who – rich though he might be – was nothing short of odd. Thinking too hard on Miss Thornhill was a path down which Arthur did not want to start. No doubt she did not want him to think of her that way, too. As Lucy's friend, the family would be seeing a lot of Miss Thornhill. Best to keep things civil and cool.

"It's no trouble at all. How have you been finding the running of the estate?" Mrs. Thornhill queried, leaning forward to look at him properly, and neatly obscuring any view of Miss Thornhill.

Before Arthur could answer, she was speaking again.

"I daresay it takes up entirely too much of your time. I thought you looked very tired last night at the ball, and you only danced once. I'd hoped to see you stand up with Felicity – she's a fine dancer – but naturally you must open the ball with Lucy. I recall a ball some years ago, held here by your late predecessor, and Felicity danced with…"

She launched into a lengthy anecdote, pausing to fill him on the details of various persons and their families, which Mrs. Thornhill seemed to consider necessary context.

At last, she had to stop for breath, and Arthur made a weak effort to draw Miss Thornhill back into the conversation.

"Miss Thornhill and I were just discussing a book she recently took from the library," he said, leaning forward to try and catch Miss Thornhill's eye.

"Took?" Mrs. Thornhill echoed, her voice a trifle shrill.

Arthur realised his mistake at once. "I didn't want to say borrowed, as she is free to keep it forever, if she likes."

"Oh," Mrs. Thornhill seemed to relax. "Yes, I can't say that I approve of excessive reading in ladies, especially young ones who ought to be focused on getting their own establishment, but I don't believe reading causes a great deal of harm. Was it a novel?"

"A botany tome, I believe. A dusty old thing, with a title I daresay I'd have to read twice to understand."

Arthur had meant it as a joke, a light-hearted comment to ease the tension. Miss Thornhill hadn't spoken since her mother had installed herself between them, and Mr. Thornhill shifted nervously from foot to foot, not venturing a word.

Mrs. Thornhill pressed her lips together, shuffling around to face her daughter.

"I think you have quite enough books on botany, don't you, Felicity?" she remarked acidly. "It's very kind of Lord Lanwood to humour you, but really, you won't have time for reading while you're here. I'm sure we discussed this earlier."

There was no mistaking the tone of her voice, or the way Miss Thornhill stiffened, jaw clenching.

"I shall be sure that my studies don't get in the way of my time here," she responded levelly.

"Studies?" Mrs. Thornhill squawked. "Oh, Lord Lanwood, studies is far too academic a word, I can assure you."

"Of course," Arthur managed, a little bewildered as to why this was directed at him.

"I'm sure, Felicity, that Lord Lanwood does not want to be bored with all your nonsense," there was a definite edge to Mrs. Thornhill's voice now, and Arthur was getting more and more uncomfortable. Could he excuse himself, or would that look too rude?

"I was only speaking of my interests, Mama," Miss Thornhill spoke, keeping her voice level. "Nothing more."

"And have you thought to ask Lord Lanwood about his interests?"

"I really feel that…" Arthur began hesitantly, not entirely sure what he intended to say, only that he wanted the conversation to come to an end. His sentence faded away as another guest stepped through the open doors onto the terrace, stretching out long limbs and beaming complacently all around.

Mr. and Mrs. Thornhill followed his gaze. After a pause, so did Miss Thornhill.

"Oh," she said, sounding extremely tired all of a sudden. "Lord Vincent is here."

Lord Vincent took his time, taking in every detail of the tables and chairs and their occupants. He smiled directly at Miss Thornhill and began to walk towards them.

Arthur had had more than enough.

"Do excuse me," he said crisply, getting to his feet, and strode away across the terrace towards Lucy and Beatrice, who clustered together in a corner.

"You invited Lord Vincent?" he hissed, once he reached them. "Why?"

"I didn't mean to," Beatrice whispered back, looking distraught. "I was only inviting a few people, but he kept appearing whenever I spoke. It was all verbal invitations for an informal thing, you know. And once I'd said it in front of him, I had to invite him. Everybody was expecting it."

"He did it deliberately," Arthur said wearily. "He wanted to be here."

"I didn't think he'd come," Lucy remarked. Her voice was cold and tight, and she was staring past Arthur over at the wooden bench, where Lord Vincent was now standing in front of Mrs. Thornhill and Miss Thornhill, telling them some amusing story or another. Miss Thornhill did not look pleased, but her mother seemed entirely charmed by the man. Wonderful.

"Miss Thornhill will have a good portion on her marriage, won't she?" Arthur asked. "Well, there you have it. He's got his sights set on her. For a wealthy man, he's certainly determined to marry an heiress. Assuming he is still wealthy, after all that gambling."

"She'll soon set him right," Lucy said confidently. "I shouldn't worry. Felicity always could stand up for herself."

Biting his lip, Arthur watched the scene across the terrace for a moment. Miss Thornhill was pointedly looking away while Lord Vincent spoke. Her mother, who was entirely enraptured with the man, cast her a quick, angry, sideways look, and elbowed her in the ribs.

A strange look passed between mother and daughter, and Miss Thornhill swallowed. She shifted to turn her attention back to Lord Vincent and pasted an unconvincing smile on her face.

Mrs. Thornhill clearly had control of her daughter's behaviour. Arthur's heart sank. Lucy might be convinced that her friend could stand up for herself and would soon send Lord Vincent packing, but Arthur wasn't quite so sure.