Like No Other

Chapter 11: The Appearance of a Rival

       

        When dinner was concluded, Mr. Beaumont, having refused the invitation of port with an excuse of another engagement with a friend, bid the two gentlemen good night. Lord March had the very suspicion that this particular friend of his was quite positively a ‘she’, and casually remarked this to Stefan. He was met with silence, and therefore grunted to his friend: “I say Stefan, you aren’t so conversational tonight.” 

        “Forgive me for being such an insipid company,” returned Stefan. “But it would be a great help if you would, for once, keep your peace.”

        “What in the deuce’s name is the matter with you? And you scowl like the devil,” the Viscount complained. 

        His errant friend helped himself with a glass of port before replying curtly, “Nothing’s wrong.”

        Robert scrutinized Stefan's frowning countenance, and knew for certain that something was definitely putting his friend in fits of gloom. “Now out with it, old chap! What has been putting you in such a pucker all throughout the night? Not that you aren’t always wearing that countenance—God knows how oft you do. But don’t gammon me by saying naught is wrong, for there certainly is!”

        For a while, Stefan doubted the wisdom of telling him what had transpired between him and Miss Davis the other night; doubtless, his friend would be of the opinion that the latter was yet another recipient of his pugnacity. On the other hand, though, he deemed Robert a confidant and knew for certain that a helpful advice was already in store for him. After all, the cheery Viscount was always inclined to share a piece of his mind. 

        “Miss Davis,” he said vaguely, with a wave of hand.

        “Miss Davis!” Robert was a little astonished. “What about her?”

        “We—I’m afraid I had hurt her… feelings —somehow.” Lord Stokeford let out a sigh, looking suddenly dejected. “It wasn’t my intention, but my temper got the better of me.”

        The Viscount shook his head. “Poor creature!” he exclaimed. “Now I won’t delve any further into this squabble between the two of you; you know it is not in me to pry into other people’s affairs. How devilish it would seem! But I must say— and pray heed this!—‘tis your testy nature which really is the problem. Yes, you may look daggers on me, but I am dashed if not one more female complain I would be likely to hear soon about you!” 

        This reprove was received with a scowl. “Then I suppose you’ll tell me next that I am no lady’s man, and that I should dispense any thought of matrimony, for I’ll only make my future wife’s life a miserable mess.”

        “Egad! If you must know how I’m dying to see you a happy married man! Now what I’m trying to tell is that you should try for once to be a little gallant to the ladies, and get rid of that stormy demeanour you’ve taken the passion to display. Damme, but I should say you’re a devilishly handsome man, Stefan, and an Earl, no less! Let them set their caps on you, and soon you’ll find them clamoring to dangle on your arm.”

        “That seems to be disagreeable to me.”

        Lord March chuckled softly. “Lud, but how unromantic! Anyway, you should sort this all out with Miss Davis, for an apology is certainly due her. Surely, you wouldn’t want to fall short from Miss Winscott’s regard by having a fall out with her dear cousin, eh? I warn you old chap: it would certainly put your courtship to a lamentable end.”