The Lord and his Lady (Forbidden #2)

Chapter Fourteen

Richard took another swig of his drink from the tumbler. That woman...Miss Price was strange. Too strange. The way she spoke about that fairytale, eyes closed and that small smile tilting her lips, it was as if she was reminiscing. She seemed truly happy in that singular moment that he had not seen otherwise.

During dinner, she had been staring at her plate or over their heads, in another world. As if she was there, though not entirely.

"How was the meeting with the tenants?" asked Weston at his house later that night.

"Tiresome. I feel as though I am perpetually doomed to deal with that pest issue for centuries onward."

"Dramatic you must be, for it is in your nature."

Richard chuckled. Oh, so that was how he wanted to do things. "Perhaps I was taken under the wing of your beloved, Miss Cavendish."

Weston became blotchy with red, clearing his throat. "I do not intend to court or marry that woman. A pig's backside is more appealing than her."

"Now, now, Weston, do not be quick to insult the woman. She stood up for you when Lady Margaret attempted to steal you away for that dance at Almack's. You were clearly relieved."

"I was not relieved. I was merely astounded that she had the gall to assume I needed help in the first place."

Richard rolled his eyes heavenward. Oh, dear Lord, this man would be in denial even buried six feet underground. "You're going to stand there and tell me you would have rather danced with that treacherous woman who indulges in the latest on-dit than Miss Cavendish?"

"You blame me? She is not the prettiest thing to look at."

"Fair. But have you spoken to her? Properly," he added.

Weston downed his drink. He placed the tumbler on the bar and fixed his hair. "I have no reason to, Caldwell."

Richard tried to roll his lips in from laughing. "Fine, fine, I'll stop bothering you about it."

"Good. It was getting rather annoying."

"I never took you for a ninny, Weston. Rather sad, really."

"Shut up. If you can tease me about such matters, what about Miss Price? Are you honouring your mother's wish, after all?"

Richard regarded his words before saying them. He owed his mother everything in his life. For having a mother figure. For raising him when his father was too busy sometimes. For teaching him most of the things he needed to know to survive.

When she'd asked him of this, of course, he was taken aback by such a request, but alas, he could not say no to her. 

Not to her.

"That I always intend to do," he said, softly. He fingered the smooth, cold rim of the glass. "Miss Price is a special one. She is quiet, but when she speaks, she speaks as though she has a lifetime of stories she could wow us with."

"That's...a bit of an odd description, Caldwell," said Weston with his face scrunched.

"I don't know what else of her to say, in all honesty. We only had one chat. So far, being a confidant to her doesn't seem it will be as intolerable as I had initially thought."

"So a happy ending to all!"

An ending it was not.

Only the beginning of a friendship, he supposed.

***

Smoke filled his face as Devonport took a deep breath and let it out, surrounding them in mist. Richard had arrived late downtown at the parlour. Hopping off his curricle, he clipped his toe against the end of the footstep and nearly fell on his face.