Mary Balogh: Gentle conquest

"Complaining, no doubt," his mother said. "Chartleigh-your poor dear papa, that is, Ralph-always used to say it would serve them right if he cut them off and made them move into the towns to work at a factory. That would teach them when they had been well off, he used to say."

"I daresay they are far better off where they are, Mama," the earl agreed with a smile, "but there really is room for improvement in their living conditions. Some of those houses are not fit for habitation."

"They are good enough for laborers, you may depend upon it," Lady Chartleigh said firmly. "Don't let them persuade you otherwise, my son. You must never appear weak to your servants, especially at the start. You must try to imitate your poor dear papa, who always knew how to handle his workers."

The earl continued to smile. "I am sure your advice is good, Mama," he said. "Gloria, do you still spend a great deal of time at your embroidery? You are a wonder. The work is exquisite."

Gloria smiled up at him, pleased, and looked back to her work again.

An onlooker would have noticed that although the ladies resembled one another to a degree, Lord Chartleigh bore no likeness to any of them. While Gloria was dark with strong, rather severe features and firm, thin lips, and the other two ladies were older versions of her, the one equally slim, the other plump, he was fair and had a pleasing, open countenance with steady gray eyes and a sensitive mouth that seemed to curve upward at the corners. He was a tall, slender young man who moved with an easy grace. It was not yet apparent whether age would add muscularity to his physique. He looked younger than his one-and-twenty years.

"Do you not consider the color of your riding attire somewhat inappropriate, Ralph?" his mother asked as she selected a buttered muffin from the plate he had risen to offer her.

Ralph looked down at his bottle-green jacket and buff riding breeches in some surprise.

"Your poor dear papa has been gone for scarcely more than a year," his mother continued. "I have not even considered the possibility of leaving off my blacks yet, dear, and you can see that Gloria is still in deep mourning too. As the new Earl of Chartleigh I think you owe it to your family and to society generally to show all proper respect to the dead."

The earl looked at his mother, contrition in his glance. "I have been thoughtless, Mama," he said. "I left off my own mourning after the year was over, but I should have noticed when I arrived yesterday that you are still in black. If you will excuse me, I shall go upstairs now and change. I am glad I arrived home in time to see you, Aunt Elspeth. Your pardon, Mama." He lifted his mother's hand to his lips as he passed her chair on his way out of the room.

Lady Chartleigh sighed and accepted another muffin from her daughter. "Yes," she said to no one in particular, "dear Ralph needs a bride, someone who can manage him and instruct him how to go on. Had not even noticed that we were still in mourning, indeed! The boy is a dreamer and the veriest child."

The Honorable Georgiana Burton was in disgrace again. She had been sent to her room to contemplate her many sins after a severe tongue-lashing in the library from her father. She was fortunate indeed, he had told her, not to be tipped over his knee and spanked until she was too sore to sit down. She might be eighteen years old and consider herself above such childish treatment, but if she must behave like an irresponsible hoyden, then she must expect to be treated like one. Next time… Viscount Lansbury had left the threat unfinished, but his daughter had looked suitably chastened as she withdrew with lowered eyes and flaming cheeks.

He would, too, he told his wife ten minutes later when he had joined her in her sitting room, his breathing still labored, his face still flushed. He would paddle the girl's bottom until she had to sleep face-down for a week. Just one more provocation!

"I have never been more mortified in my life," the viscount continued. "There they were, all lined up in the green salon, all breathing fire and brimstone. At me. Viscount Lansbury! Tradesmen and servants all of them. And I was obliged to eat humble pie in front of them."

"Dear Georgie is merely a high-spirited girl," the viscountess said soothingly, pouring a cup of tea for her husband, who looked as if he were in need of a far stronger beverage. "And she has always enjoyed a prank. She will grow up."

"When!" The word emerged as more exclamation than question. The viscount regarded the top of his wife's head in exasperation. "It seems to me you have been saying that for the past five years, my lady. When is Georgiana going to grow up? She was presented this past spring among a bevy of girls as pretty-behaved and dignified as any father could wish. And some of them were younger than she."

"You must admit that Georgie has been very popular this Season, Lansbury," his wife said. "She has certainly not lacked for admirers."

"You refer to Greeley and Vaughn and young Haines, I presume?" the viscount said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Not one brain to spare among the lot of them. It was young Haines who caused all the trouble this morning. Not that I believe for a moment that the fault was all his. If the truth were known, I daresay the whole idea was Georgiana's."

"I think you make altogether too much of the incident, Lansbury," the viscountess said placidly. "All they did, after all, was race their horses through the streets instead of in the park. Georgie said it added to the excitement to have obstacles to dodge instead of just a wide green to gallop along. No harm was done. One can always trust servants and tradespeople to exaggerate and look for cause to complain against their betters."

"No harm was done!" The viscount directed his eyes to the ceiling. "If you call an apple stall being upset, a fish wagon overturned, and a pedestrian's leg bitten by a frightened dog, among other incidents, no harm, my lady, I should like to know what you consider some harm."

His wife sipped her tea and wisely refrained from comment.

"Well," Lansbury said, "I had decided to stay away from the country this summer while the repairs are being made to the house, but go there we will, and soon. We shall just have to turn a blind eye to the presence of the builders."

"So uncomfortable," his wife said with a frown. "You know how sawdust and the smell of paint give me the headache and have me sneezing all day long. Perhaps it would be better to find Georgie a husband. You may depend upon it, Lansbury, she would soon settle down if she were given the responsibility of her own home. I am convinced that it is merely boredom that drives the girl into so many scrapes."

The viscount regarded his wife fixedly. "Heaven help the poor man!" he said feelingly. "Is there anyone foolish enough to take her off our hands, Livvy?"

"I am not sure, of course," his wife said with careful casualness, "but I do believe Chartleigh might be brought to the point."

The viscount frowned. "Chartleigh," he said. "He is a mere pup, is he not?"

"One-and-twenty," his wife informed him, "and in search of a wife. Or the countess is in search of a wife for him, which amounts to the same thing. She has always ruled that family, I understand. The late earl was something of a wastrel."

"I knew him," the viscount said. "Is the son like him? I can't say I have heard anything about him."

"A very quiet, bookish sort of young man, according to Eugenia" his wife replied. "Just the sort of husband for Georgie, Lansbury. He would be a steadying influence and help her to grow up."

"Hm," Lansbury said. There was a world of cynicism in the one syllable. "I think a rakehell might do better for her. He might take a horsewhip to her hide once in a while."