Chapter 24
An Affair of Honour
The morning saw Mr Milborne strolling in the direction of number five Upper Brook Street, reflecting on the last night’s goings-on. It had seemed to wrap up smoothly, with the untimely interruption of Desmund Clayton abating the heat and tension of the ruckus. For all his meek and deceptively soft voice, the man was nothing if not plain-spoken to a fault. Still, what had occurred was a downright disgraceful affair. Through his friend’s confidences Cedric had finally understood that Wickham and Stokeford had been at dagger’s drawn since two months ago and it had been a long time prophecy that the two would one day reach the point of coming to cuffs. The Earl had tried to avert trouble at the last minute and would have let matters be, but the prickly Wickham was clearly clamoring for bloodshed. Cedric thought he’d never seen a man so enraged, especially a man as young as Wickham.
As for himself, whatever had possessed him to leap willy nilly into Stokeford’s hole he was confounded if he knew. He didn’t even like the man; in fact, he and the Earl were both aware of the mutual animosity that had been existing between them since their first meeting. So why rush to his aid, as game and impulsive as though it had been his best friend’s trouble? But when no one had suggested himself to act for his lordship Cedric was uncomfortably aware of the helplessness behind that proud figure, and felt a sense of contempt to those men present. Apparently they only deemed themselves as amused spectators in the unfolding drama, and would have nothing to do with it. “Fools!” he thought scornfully. “Well, Cedric Milborne isn’t one to stand and amuse himself of someone’s trouble, and so I’ll show ‘em!”
At length he finally reached the Stokeford House and showed the butler his card. He found himself being assessed by two shrewd and stern eyes before he was admitted into the hall where he found Miss Carstairs sashaying about, a very fetching bonnet hanging at one hand. She paused, her eyes reflected surprise and then brightened as she saw him. Suddenly, for no reason at all, Cedric’s heart gave an odd leap. “Good morning, Miss Carstairs. You’re going out?” he said and shook her hand.
“My aunt and I have some shopping to do. But what brings you here, sir? You are visiting my cousin, perhaps?”
“Indeed, ma’am. Is he about?”
“He’s in the library — in fact it seems to me he’s been waiting for someone. Could that be you?” He nodded and smiled. “Why, I didn’t know you’re friends!” she said impulsively.
The smile froze in his lips. With force nonchalance he prevaricated: “We have, ah, something of a private nature to discuss, ma’am. Business,” he hastily added.
“Oh!” Miss Carstairs’ brows fairly rose with curiosity. Egad, what a gudgeon! If he didn’t guard his tongue, she’d surely get wind of her cousin’s forthcoming duel. Her searching gaze was making him uncomfortable, but he fought the urge to look away and instead resorted to his charming smile that had captured so many women’s fancies. As it turned out, the Honourble Miss Marianne Carstairs proved to be one of them, for she blushed and turned away, murmuring something incoherent.
He saw Lady Stokeford coming towards them, and at once punctiliously attended to the Countess. Cedric had known her since his tour in Vienna, and although her ladyship could be charming and playful to her suitors (which he had once fancied himself to be one), there was a distinct air about her that suggested menace when her will was crossed. For a moment he thought he’d glimpsed a cold glitter in those beautiful blue eyes but when the lids started to flicker it seemed to have vanished and he dismissed the thought at once.
YOU ARE READING
Like No Other
Historical FictionWHEN AN UNLIKELY SUITOR.... The Earl of Stokeford is hardly a man of amiable disposition and social graces. He scowls whenever he pleases, becomes rude at any time convenient for him, and worse, has a regrettable tendency to scare ladies out of thei...