Page 26 of Courting Miss Lancaster
Adam’s eyes snapped to where Athena stood near the doorway. She hadn’t even realized he’d seen her there. She stiffened, her heart beating faster. Would he blame her? Would he be upset that she hadn’t done more to stand up for Persephone?
“Are you all right?” Adam asked. His obvious sincerity broke through her last paper-thin barrier, and she found herself wiping at a tear, a sob caught in her throat.
“Athena.” It was Harry’s voice, more of a sigh than an actual spoken word. His expression was harder on her composure than Adam’s. He looked so terribly guilty, like he blamed himself for the horrific experience of her being quite thoroughlyand publicly insulted. And, suddenly, the entire ordeal was overwhelmingly humiliating.
With a sob she couldn’t prevent, Athena spun on her heels and fled to the quiet sanctuary of her room.
Chapter Eleven
VW
Harry would never, as longas he lived, forget the look on Athena’s face in the moments before she’d fled from Adam’s book room. Sir Hubert’s remarks had hurt her. And now, the next day, Harry was still wrestling with a conscience that continually reminded him of his own role in the terrible scene that had played out at the Fitzpatricks’ home.
Sir Hubert had earned a reputation over the preceding ten years or so as an overly critical and wholly cruel-hearted individual. But Harry never would have predicted that he would turn his claws on his own dinner partners. He generally consigned himself to commenting on those outside his immediate audience. Harry had further counted on Adam’s reputation to keep the inevitable comments directed elsewhere.
He had hoped to demonstrate to Athena the importance of choosing a gentleman with a kind heart. It was a gamble that had gone horribly wrong.
“Windover.”
Harry had been dreading this meeting. Charles Dalforth had been obviously unhappy with Harry the night before. And, as Dalforth was privy to Harry’s strategy in guiding Athena by providing examples of bad choices in companions, Harry had a reasonably good idea of the nature of Dalforth’s gripe.
“Dalforth,” Harry acknowledged, dropping into a wingback chair in a quiet corner of White’s, bracing himself for the peal that was about to be rung over his head.
“Sir Hubert Collington?” Dalforth said, his words a mixture of censure and disbelief. “Really?”
Harry just shook his head and quietly sighed. That really had been a catastrophic error in judgment.
“I am assuming he was your choice for demonstrating to Miss Lancaster that she ought not marry a complete jack-a-napes,” Dalforth said.
“That was the basic idea,” Harry acknowledged.
“Except that unlike Howard and Peterbrook and Handley, Sir Hubert is not what anyone would consider harmless. He is a nasty sort who cares little for the feelings of others. Lud, Windover, the man is not even accepted by the highest sticklers.”
“Which is why Miss Lancaster would do well not to consider a gentleman like Sir Hubert.” Harry felt practically forced into defending himself despite having been throwing the same condemnations in his own direction only moments earlier.
“And how, pray tell, do you intend to demonstrate to Miss Lancaster that she ought not consider a suit from a man who would beat her?” Dalforth asked, his gaze condemning.
“Are you suggesting I would place Miss Lancaster into the care of a man who would physically harm her?” Harry allowed the affronted tone to remain obvious in his voice.
“You placed her last night into the company of a man who harmed her emotionally,” Dalforth shot back. “Gads, man! Did you see the poor girl’s face?”
Harry’s heart thudded painfully as a vivid picture of Athena’s expression of suffering flitted through his memory.
“No young lady should have to be subjected to Sir Hubert.” Dalforth looked genuinely angered, and Harry, despite himself, found his respect for the gentleman increasing. “And his treatment of Her Grace was inexcusable.”
“Agreed.”
“I am not well acquainted with the Duke of Kielder, but if heis not aware of Sir Hubert’s behavior, I intend to inform him.” It was something of a warning, as if Dalforth wasn’t entirely sure Harry had done his duty by the two mistreated ladies.
“He knows,” Harry informed Dalforth.
“And is Sir Hubert still among the living?” There was enough serious inquiry in Dalforth’s question to tell Harry that he knew Adam’s reputation well enough.
“For the time being,” Harry replied. Seeing the obvious question in Dalforth’s gaze, Harry explained. “Sir Hubert is, I understand, here at White’s at this moment. His Grace should be arriving momentarily.”
Dalforth’s eyes widened. “There is to be a show, then?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrows.
“There is to be an execution,” Harry corrected.
