Page 43 of Loving an Earl
“Are you two going to gawk at me,” he paused, taking in air and ignoring the pain throbbing in his shoulder and leg, “like I’m a newly painted Rembrandt?” Edmund laughed—tried to—which resembled a cough as he tried to make light of his situation.
“Ah, so you have decided to join the living and grace us with your presence.” Blackstone’s laissez-faire attitude didn’t fool Edmund. His features were drawn. “You do realize Rembrandt died in 1669?”
“By both of your sour looks, you’d think someone besides the esteemed painter had died.”
Both his friends coughed and glanced at each other, and their worried eyes fell on him.
“Stop the pitying looks. I’m not dying. I’ve been run over by a carriage. It could be worse. Such as Annabelle dying in childbirth.” The part of his heart that still belonged to her cried out in silent agony. The other part, resigned to living without her a long time ago, ached as though he’d lost a good friend, but nothing more. Progress. “What about her father?”
“He knows. How did you?”
“Come, Blackstone, I was under the influence of laudanum, but I heard every word you four said.”
“We didn’t want you to find out that way. I know how much she meant to you.”
His heart lurched. “Meant is right. I got over her a long time ago. I was doing a service to the baron by searching for her whenever I could.”
“Yes, well,” Caldwell began, “I imagine the baron is heartbroken.”
Edmund could very well imagine the baron’s pain. His only child, whom he hadn’t seen in over ten years, was dead after having lived in the hellish slums of London by choice. “Someone give me a dose of laudanum so I can go back to oblivion.”
*
Blackstone and Caldwellleft in the early afternoon, making Lilly promise to send word if he took a turn for the worse. Dr. Bailey came shortly after they’d left and went again after rebandaging Langford’s stitches on his leg and leaving another vial of pain medicine. Lilly should have felt better after he left, but her insides were a jumbled mess. Even though Langford was under the influence of the pain medicine, he’d seemed overly distant and somber whenever he was awake, though that wasn’t often or for long. Blackstone had told her that Edmund knew about Annabelle’s death, and she supposed that must be what had him in such a somber mood. She left him in the care of Mullens and Mrs. Lewis as it was teatime, and she remembered suddenly that she was expecting a visit from Viscount Redford.
Dressed in a yellow muslin day dress trimmed with blue ribbon and embroidery, she made her way downstairs to the drawing room and found Emmeline and Aunt Vivian sitting beside one another on the settee entertaining the viscount. Lilly frowned. She was right on time, and the viscount was overly prompt.
He stood as she entered the room. “Lady Langford.” He bowed. “How lovely you look today.”
She curtsied. “How nice to see you again.” She swept her hand toward a side table and a bouquet of pink roses. “The flowers are beautiful. Thank you.”
A confident smile broke out on his handsome face. “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady.”
Lilly blushed. Compliments always caused her cheeks to heat, no matter who delivered them. “Thank you again. Please sit.” She took the chair beside him, separated by a small round table, and took in his appearance in black-and-tan riding clothes. He did present a handsome picture. It was a shame he didn’t cause her insides to flutter—perhaps when she got to know him better.
“I hear Langford was in a terrible accident. How is he?”
The viscount genuinely appeared concerned for Langford’s well-being, though she didn’t believe they were well acquainted. “The doctor is hopeful he will recover if he can avoid infection and says that he is fortunate to be alive.”
“No doubt. I surmise most people would die immediately after being run over and pinned beneath a carriage wheel.” He paused and shook his head just a tad. “But not Langford.”
“No. Not Langford,” she agreed, not caring for his expression or the tone of his voice. “May I offer you tea? A biscuit?”
“No, thank you. Although, I wouldn’t mind something stronger if you have it?”
It wouldn’t be the first time a gentleman caller had asked for liquor. Lilly went to a sideboard across the room and splashed a healthy amount of brandy into a crystal glass.
“Here you are,” she said as he took the offered drink from her hand.
“Thank you.” He took a sip. “Very nice and smooth.” They sat in genteel silence for a moment before he spoke again. “Lady Langford, would you care to join me for a ride in the park tomorrow afternoon?”
Her first inclination was to refuse—she felt so tired and worn after last night—but if she wanted to marry and have children some day she needed to allow men to court her. And perhaps she would feel better tomorrow. “I would like that very much.”
He stood and bowed. “Until tomorrow, then.”
“He seems like a fine gentleman,” Aunt Vivian said once the viscount was gone. “Do we know much about his family?”
Lilly looked to Emmeline for the answer.
