friend of Lady Mercer’s.”
“Of course,” she said. “Harriet has told me all about you. Grew up together, didn’t you?” She shook his hand firmly. “So nice to finally meet you.”
Roger was immediately beset with more guilt for not calling sooner, which was most likely the lady’s intent. Older women were so good at that sort of bland, guilt-producing conversation. Lady Lockerby poured herself a cup of tea, probably hoping to let Roger’s unease build until he was ready to apologize, which, of course, was completely unnecessary given the weight of his self-imposed guilt prior to her arrival. “Again, my apologies,” he offered right away. “I should have come sooner.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Lockerby said, taking a sip of her tea. She set it down. “I’m just so relieved you were here to save the day. I don’t know what we’d do without little Mercy.” She sniffed and had to pull out her handkerchief to dab her eyes. “Harriet lives for that little boy.” She tucked the handkerchief away. “I’d only stepped out for an hour or two to visit some old friends. Harriet is too trusting in this awful city. I’ve told her time and again she must bring a footman or maid with her, even to the park.”
Roger silently agreed. “Are you staying with Lady Mercer?” he asked.
Lady Lockerby nodded. “Came to get her set up here in London,” she said pleasantly. “Mercer kept her locked up in Lincolnshire, poor thing. I don’t spend much time here myself, preferring Bath with Lockerby, but I couldn’t let poor Harriet come alone, could I? I got her a few initial invitations, but she seems quite popular these days and no longer needs my assistance.”
Roger knew it was her fortune and her outrageous behavior that had taken hold, although he refrained from telling Lady Lockerby so. “It was kind of you to do that,” he said, when it became clear that the older woman was waiting for some sort of response.
She nodded. “I was saying goodbye to friends today. I’ve got to get back to Lockerby. He has a hard time getting by without me, don’t you know. I hate to leave heralone in London. So few people come to call, in spite of her busy social schedule.” She leaned closer, about to impart a secret. “Too many of our guests are gentlemen that I hesitate to leave her alone with.”
Who the hell was calling on Harry? He frowned as he thought of the sort of men who would make a matron like Lady Lockerby nervous. “Who?” he demanded. He forced himself to relax on the sofa. “Perhaps I know some of these gentlemen and your fears are unwarranted?” he asked helpfully.
“Well,” she said, dragging out the word as if she was skeptical whether or not Roger would know a roué if he met one in Harry’s parlor. Finally she nodded as if she’d reached some sort of internal decision. “Mr. Faircloth has come to call several times.”
Faircloth? So the rumors were true. “Mr. Reginald Faircloth?” he asked, hoping he was wrong.
She nodded. “Yes. He is very insistent.”
“Insistent?” Roger asked reluctantly.
“In his suit,” Lady Lockerby explained carefully. She was giving Roger a look that clearly was supposed to mean something, but he had no idea what.
“He wishes to marry Lady Mercer?” he guessed, since that was the rumor.
“I fear that is the case,” she agreed.
“Well, he does come from a distinguished family,” Roger hedged. There was no way in hell he’d let Harry marry Faircloth, who was a gambler and a cheat, not to mention repulsive in the extreme. But since he had no legitimate say in what Harry did or didn’t do, he kept that to himself. “What does Lady Mercer’s family have to say about it?” he asked, remembering her strict father and meek mother. Mr. Stanley had been verydetermined to see his girls wed well. He had not cared for Roger at all.
Lady Lockerby seemed taken aback for a moment. “Oh, that’s right, you’ve been out of touch with Harriet for the
“Of course,” she said. “Harriet has told me all about you. Grew up together, didn’t you?” She shook his hand firmly. “So nice to finally meet you.”
Roger was immediately beset with more guilt for not calling sooner, which was most likely the lady’s intent. Older women were so good at that sort of bland, guilt-producing conversation. Lady Lockerby poured herself a cup of tea, probably hoping to let Roger’s unease build until he was ready to apologize, which, of course, was completely unnecessary given the weight of his self-imposed guilt prior to her arrival. “Again, my apologies,” he offered right away. “I should have come sooner.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Lockerby said, taking a sip of her tea. She set it down. “I’m just so relieved you were here to save the day. I don’t know what we’d do without little Mercy.” She sniffed and had to pull out her handkerchief to dab her eyes. “Harriet lives for that little boy.” She tucked the handkerchief away. “I’d only stepped out for an hour or two to visit some old friends. Harriet is too trusting in this awful city. I’ve told her time and again she must bring a footman or maid with her, even to the park.”
Roger silently agreed. “Are you staying with Lady Mercer?” he asked.
Lady Lockerby nodded. “Came to get her set up here in London,” she said pleasantly. “Mercer kept her locked up in Lincolnshire, poor thing. I don’t spend much time here myself, preferring Bath with Lockerby, but I couldn’t let poor Harriet come alone, could I? I got her a few initial invitations, but she seems quite popular these days and no longer needs my assistance.”
Roger knew it was her fortune and her outrageous behavior that had taken hold, although he refrained from telling Lady Lockerby so. “It was kind of you to do that,” he said, when it became clear that the older woman was waiting for some sort of response.
She nodded. “I was saying goodbye to friends today. I’ve got to get back to Lockerby. He has a hard time getting by without me, don’t you know. I hate to leave heralone in London. So few people come to call, in spite of her busy social schedule.” She leaned closer, about to impart a secret. “Too many of our guests are gentlemen that I hesitate to leave her alone with.”
Who the hell was calling on Harry? He frowned as he thought of the sort of men who would make a matron like Lady Lockerby nervous. “Who?” he demanded. He forced himself to relax on the sofa. “Perhaps I know some of these gentlemen and your fears are unwarranted?” he asked helpfully.
“Well,” she said, dragging out the word as if she was skeptical whether or not Roger would know a roué if he met one in Harry’s parlor. Finally she nodded as if she’d reached some sort of internal decision. “Mr. Faircloth has come to call several times.”
Faircloth? So the rumors were true. “Mr. Reginald Faircloth?” he asked, hoping he was wrong.
She nodded. “Yes. He is very insistent.”
“Insistent?” Roger asked reluctantly.
“In his suit,” Lady Lockerby explained carefully. She was giving Roger a look that clearly was supposed to mean something, but he had no idea what.
“He wishes to marry Lady Mercer?” he guessed, since that was the rumor.
“I fear that is the case,” she agreed.
“Well, he does come from a distinguished family,” Roger hedged. There was no way in hell he’d let Harry marry Faircloth, who was a gambler and a cheat, not to mention repulsive in the extreme. But since he had no legitimate say in what Harry did or didn’t do, he kept that to himself. “What does Lady Mercer’s family have to say about it?” he asked, remembering her strict father and meek mother. Mr. Stanley had been verydetermined to see his girls wed well. He had not cared for Roger at all.
Lady Lockerby seemed taken aback for a moment. “Oh, that’s right, you’ve been out of touch with Harriet for the
Similar Books
