The Marquess and Miss Davies Read Free Page B

with the viscount?” asked the dowager. “Dear Lord, Anthony, don’t tell me that you’ve gotten into some kind of trouble.”
    He stared at her. “ Why would you ever think so?”
    “Don’t cut up sharp with me! You know you haven’t been yourself, lately. Staying out until all hours—”
    “There is no ‘trouble’, I assure you. And if the ton did not stay out until all hours there would be no ton .”
    Cardingham. He knew of the viscount by reputation, a serious young man who had come into his inheritance several years ago and promptly disappeared from society. The marquess considered this. Why had he—
    The marchioness was looking at him. Anthony knew that look.
    “I’m not acquainted with that family,” his mother said. “Are there any daughters?”
    “I’m ... I’m not certain,” said Lord Leighton, which was not precisely a lie.
    “A viscount isn’t entirely up to snuff, of course. But—”
    And then Anthony remembered. Lord Talfryn Davies had left London some time past to live at his estate in Cornwall, with rumour suggesting that the father had left the place near ruin. He had returned only a year ago to wed ... ah, yes, the Earl of Aveline’s daughter. From gossip overheard at White’s, Lord Leighton believed that the estate, and the gentleman’s finances, were now in fine order.
    So. A viscount’s sister, unless ‘twas a cousin or some such. Either way, Lord Leighton felt that he must see those blue eyes again, as soon as possible. But how?
    His mother, seeing that no more information was forthcoming, gave up the hunt and returned to the music room. The marquess sat and considered the matter for some time.
    Did he want to approach the girl? He did. But interest from a marquess was a major coup in the eyes of society, and if she were a gossipy sort—
    She was not. He was certain of it.
    The marquess decided that the quickest route to his goal was to consult with Lord Benjamin Harcourt. He returned to his study and scribbled a quick note, and sent Robbie around to Kensington Square, to see if Benjamin could be rousted out of bed.
     

Chapter 4: Dinner and a Poet
     
    A week went by. Carys had not really forgotten the unknown man sleeping on the Cardingham House grass, but she had no way to identify him, and the image of his face faded, to be replaced by a vague sense of loss. She continued her morning walks and found herself taking round-about paths to and from Green Park, venturing through new neighborhoods with the idea that—
    Well, she wasn’t sure what she expected. To see him asleep on some other family’s lawn?
    One day Lady Davies sent for her daughters and suggested that they accompany her, that very evening, to a small dinner given in honour of Lord Ravelstoke.
    “Tonight?” asked Carys, frowning.
    “We’d be delighted,” said Isolde, who was utterly bored with the day’s activities, or lack thereof, since an afternoon’s rainstorm had curtailed a planned outing to shop for hats. She and Carys had spent the last hour playing Patience in the library.
    “Lord Brabury will be attending, my dears, and I’d like Carys—”
    “Lord Brabury!” Isolde rolled her eyes and Carys bit back a smile.
    Lady Davies ignored them. “Adelaide tells me that Lady Brabury believes it is past time for him to marry—”
    Lady Brabury being, in this case, Lord Brabury’s mother.
    “—and I think he would do quite well for Carys. Now he may not be the most lively of gentlemen—”
    That was too much for Isa. She burst into laughter.
    “Madam,” said Isolde, “the man has no topic of conversation—none, I assure you—upon which he can be convinced to utter more than two words.”
    “Well,” said Lady Davies. “I’ll own that he is quiet. Still—”
    “Quiet would be acceptable! But if one asks Lord Brabury a direct question he is more likely to yawn in your face than to provide an answer.”
    “I’m sure—”
    “I waltzed with him once, did you know? He stopped in the