Chapter 6

Pall Mall, Rivalries and Wine

Nigel's experience in the milliners had taught him two things. The first was that hat shopping could in fact be made worse than he had initially thought, and the second was that he would be forever grateful not to have been forced to marry Olivia Rokesby.

The nerve. Who does she think me is to speak to me like that? All I was trying to do was apologise! He had left the milliners in such a fury that he had had to return the next day to purchase three hats, two exactly the same as each other and one more for riding This only added to his dislike of the woman.

"Cousin, what on Earth are you glowering about?" a voice broke into Nigel's thoughts, pulling him back to the present. "You cannot be that angry about needing to find a second footman."

It had been days since his encounter in the hat shop, yet still he could not shake the memory. He turned to his cousin, Lord Frederick Briston.

Lord Briston was of a similar age to Nigel though shorter than Nigel by a few inches which had been a source of much contention when they were boys. His brown hair was always perfectly styled, unlike Nigel's hair which had a tendency to look windswept.

"What? No. Though I do need to find one." Nigel shook himself out of his reverie. "In truth, I was recalling a particularly infuriating encounter I had a few days ago."

"It must have been quite something. I do not think I have ever seen you look so angry." Lord Briston looked concerned.

"It was though we should not dwell on it. After all, this is a garden party is it not? You mentioned that you may have a candidate for footman for me?" Nigel tried to inject a sense of joviality into his voice.

"Yes, a rather excellent chap. Mr. Jaspers. He has helped with several formal dinners, so I can attest to his competence," Lord Briston said.

"Wonderful, send him around as soon as you can. Mr. Amos will be delighted, I am sure." Nigel ran a hand through his hair.

"Father always says that a well-staffed house is a well-run house." Lord Briston took a sip of his wine.

Nigel managed not to roll his eyes and instead asked, "How is your family?"

"Father is very well, thank you, and grandfather. He turned one and eighty only the other week!" Lord Briston smiled.

Nigel felt an odd pang in his chest. It is not his fault that only your direct line is cursed. "That is wonderful. I was sorry not to have made the celebration. Please convey my well wishes to him."

"Of course." Lord Briston gave his cousin an odd look. "Are you feeling quite well?"

Nigel paused with his cup midway to his lips. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You just… Well, forgive me for saying so old chap, but you look rather tired." Lord Briston bit his lip.

Nigel stiffened. "You know, it is rather poor form to tell a man you think he looks unwell."

Lord Briston blanched but held his ground. "Cousin, I meant no offence… It is just… well… I am worried about you. We are family, after all. I just want to help."

"What help could you offer?" Nigel knew it sounded rude and hastily added. "I am sorry. It is only that at this point, I have tried everything I can think of and yielded nothing."

"Well, have you talked to any botanists? I know a rather renowned botanist, and I am sure I could find something that would aid you," Lord Briston offered. "Please, cousin. Let me help you."

Nigel hesitated. He did not like the thought of being indebted to anyone, but perhaps his cousin could be of some assistance. "Do you really think you might be able to help?"

Lord Briston nodded. "Though it would be best not to mention it to anyone, lest our efforts prove unsuccessful. I would not want to give your mother false hope; she has suffered enough heart break."

Nigel swallowed. "You are right. Of course, we shall keep this between us."

"Tell me, what symptoms have ailed you. This may help me in my search for a cure." Lord Briston held Nigel's gaze. "You are sleepwalking, I take it? Any cramps? Palsy? Changes to your senses? Perhaps strange cravings?"

"Only the sleepwalking really. Well, there has been some stomach pain but no palsy or anything else you mention," Nigel whispered as softly as he could.

"Good, that is good." Lord Briston looked thoughtful. "We have time. Tell me, what botanicals have you tried?"

Before he could answer, a group of women walked into the garden, and he found himself quite distracted. He let out a hiss of annoyance. Of course, she would be here.

Lady Olivia Rokesby, Miss Jane Pembleton, and Lady Cotswalts had just arrived. He watched as the three women approached the hosts and exchanged greetings.

Nigel was unsure if he wanted Olivia to see him or not, but before he could make a decision, their eyes found one another. Olivia's instantly narrowed, and she glowered at Nigel. He glowered back.

Unfortunately for him, his cousin noticed the hostile exchange. "I take it the fetching young lady and you have some rather bad blood between you?"

Nigel snorted and downed his glass of wine. "There is nothing between us. And I would hardly call her fetching."

"Then you are a liar. She is one of the most beautiful women at this party." Lord Briston nodded approvingly.

A stab of annoyance ran through Nigel, but he shook it off. "Call me what you want, dear cousin, but I have no wish to talk to her. I do not think I could be trusted to be civil. Come let us move closer to the pall mall alley, so we might avoid an altercation."

For a moment, Nigel was sure Lord Briston would refuse to come with him. Even if he decides to speak to them, it does not mean I need to follow. I am my own man. Lord Briston looked at Nigel and then back at Olivia.

"Fine. I suspect if she harbours such ill feelings towards you, then just the fact of my association with you will be more than enough for her to disavow any attempt at an introduction."

Nigel had to admit that his cousin was probably right. "I would say it would be unlikely that she would look favourably upon you."

"Though if you keep glowering at the woman like that, I shall disavow you as my cousin. Really, it is rather embarrassing." Lord Briston shook his head.

"I am not glowering," Nigel said through clenched teeth.

"Cousin, if looks could kill, you would be dead twice over as would that young lady." Lord Briston sighed. "Why is it that I must suffer for your own prejudice?"

"Believe you me, you will be better off without that woman in your life." Nigel tried to force his face into a smile.

"If you insist." Lord Briston tore his gaze away from Olivia and followed Nigel as they made their way towards the pall mall alley.

Nigel could feel the fury of Olivia's gaze upon him as he picked his way through the crowd. He shrugged his shoulders. He had not expected to see her here; he did not recall her having attended any of the garden parties last season. But then again, she is with Lady Cotswalts this season.

Sighing, Nigel went to take a sip of his lemonade and only remembered that it was empty when the cup touched his lips. He scowled and looked around, hoping to see a servant with a drinks tray. Unfortunately, the one visible servant happened to be a few feet from Olivia and her party.

Lord Briston looked at the empty glass in Nigel's hand and frowned. Out of the corner of his eye, Nigel saw Lord Briston look towards the servant and notice his exact location.

"Are you really so scared of the woman that you will not go and get another drink?" Lord Briston raised an eyebrow.

"I am not scared of her. I just do not wish to cause a scene." Nigel and Olivia were locked into a glowering match once more.

Lord Briston sighed and shook his head. "I shall fetch you another drink."

"Thank you, cousin." Nigel finally stopped scowling at Olivia, feeling an unexpected rush of affection for his cousin.

"I will be back in a moment. Do try and behave cousin." Lord Briston nodded to him and headed off to get them both another drink.

Nigel decided that it would be for the best if he stopped glowering at Olivia. For one thing, it would hardly endear him to any of the other women in attendance, and for another, all of the scowling was giving him a pain in his jaw.

"Dratted woman." Nigel murmured under his breath.

He glanced around the garden, hoping for something to distract him. There was a spattering of women around, many of whom were looking at him appreciatively. Focus on the women who actually enjoy your company, not the one who despises it.

Nigel began to run through the list Mr. Amos had given him, trying to match the names with the faces around him. Yet to his immense irritation, Olivia's angry face kept swimming to the forefront of his mind's eye.

Would that she would leave me alone! Nigel glanced at the pall mall mallets behind him, wondering if it would be bad form to take out his frustration on one of the balls.

"I am not playing that if it is only you and me in the game," a voice said disapprovingly — Lord Briston had returned.

Nigel let out a theatrical sigh. "And once more, dear cousin, you dash my spirits."

Lord Briston looked nonplussed and handed Nigel a drink. "I have brought you your lemonade."

"Thank you." Nigel smiled at his cousin and took a sip of his drink.

As soon as the liquid passed his lips, Nigel knew that something was wrong. Where he was expecting something citrusy with the faint sweetness of the orgeat syrup, he got something sour and sickly. His stomach turned.

He turned behind him and spat the lemonade onto the floor. That is utterly vile. "Do not drink that; clearly they have mixed it all wrong."

"What on earth are you talking about? It's perfectly fine." Lord Briston took another sip of his drink, his eyes widening.

Nigel shook his head, sniffing his own drink and then holding it out to his cousin. "Can you not smell that? Go on taste it!"

"It smells perfectly normal to me." Lord Briston looked concerned. "It is from the exact same batch as my own; I saw the servant pour it myself."

Nigel felt a rising panic in his chest. "Come, cousin. Surely you jest?"

Lord Briston shook his head. "The drink is perfectly fine. I assure you."

Nigel looked desperately into his cousin's face, hoping to see some sign of humour, but there was none. His cousin took a sip of Nigel's drink, but it seemed to cause him no offence.

"You see, there is nothing wrong with it." Lord Briston frowned. "It is a perfectly drinkable. In fact, I was just going to say that I must get the recipe from Lord Mosby and order it for my next dinner party."

Nigel felt an odd numbness spread through him. His hand started to shake, almost spilling lemonade.

"If you are concerned, why don't we swap. I shall take your glass, and you may have mine." Lord Briston swapped the two glasses and handed his own to Nigel.

Nigel smiled though blood roared in his ears. It is just your imagination. There is nothing wrong. You saw him drink it with your own eyes. "Thank you, cousin, for humouring me."

Lord Briston smiled though Nigel could see the concern in the man's eyes.

Nigel took a sip of his new drink, and once more, a sour, sickly taste filled his mouth. There is something wrong with me. God's what is wrong with me. I must not cause a scene — what will everyone think.

Turning from his cousin, he spat the lemonade from his mouth, letting the liquid spray from his lips and onto the grass behind him. He straightened, turned around, and found himself face to face with Olivia, Lady Cotswalts, and Miss Jane Pembleton.

Perfect. Just perfect. Putting on his best smile, Nigel bowed to the women and prayed for the ground to split in two and swallow him whole.