His Mistletoe Marchioness. Georgie Lee
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* * *
At the end of the meal, Lady Tillman led the ladies out of the room while Lord Tillman called for the brandy. The men rose from their places of precedent and took up more informal seats at Lord Tillman’s end of the table. Hugh chose the chair beside Sir Nathaniel, eager to talk to the man who, before his ennoblement, had been a celebrated barrister and who understood the vagaries of the law better than most titled men. The letter informing Hugh that a lawsuit for possession of Everburgh had been filed had forced him out of London as much as his disgust with himself. He might have turned away from duty and responsibility for a while, but he hadn’t given up on it entirely because it wasn’t an easy thing to set aside, nor could he abandon trying to accomplish everything that his father and even Hermione had sacrificed their lives to help him achieve. It might mean more struggle and difficulties, but he would see this through and seize every advantage available to him, including setting his pride aside and asking for help from Sir Nathaniel, Lord Tillman and Adam.
To Hugh’s dismay, Lord Westbook took the chair on Hugh’s opposite side. He gave the man no notice as he leaned in towards Sir Nathaniel. ‘I understand you once handled a case concerning the signing over of an estate when the signee was in no position to make such a decision and succeeded in having the contract voided.’
‘I did.’ Sir Nathaniel leaned forward with his elbows against the table to give them some privacy in their discussion. The rest of the gentlemen sat back, savouring their drinks and the conversation, while Lord Westbook sat ramrod straight in his chair, no doubt watching and listening to everything. Let him hear what Sir Nathaniel had to say, his opinion and all his stupid little stories meant nothing to Hugh. Besides, the pending case was already well known in London and another of the many tales already attached to his name. ‘And I’m familiar with your case.’
‘What do you think of it?’
‘I think you have a solid one against the enforcement of the contract, should the Scotsman ever produce it. Who’s representing you?’
‘No one, yet.’ He couldn’t afford any long, drawn-out payments to solicitors. Everburgh might be clear of debts, but the harvest had not sufficiently recovered enough to provide a robust income. Hugh must continue to economise and endure a few more lean years before he and his estate workers could at last breathe easy, assuming Everburgh wasn’t stolen out from under him. ‘I was thinking of engaging Featherton and Associates.’
‘A good firm, but not the one for something like this. You need Allenton and Associates, one of their best barristers used to work for me, I trained him up. He knows the case you’re referring to and has handled other matters dealing with questionable contacts. He’s the best for you.’
And expensive, Hugh thought, but in a matter like this he could not afford to be stingy. He would find a way to obtain the money to pay for their services, he had no choice. ‘I’ll be certain to engage them.’
The footman tried to set a snifter of brandy before Hugh, but he waved it away.
‘Is there another spirit I can offer you, Lord Delamare?’ the footman asked, eager like his employer to make the guests happy.
‘None, thank you.’
‘Nothing to warm the soul on a cold night?’ Sir Nathaniel asked, taking up his drink.
‘I warmed my soul one too many times on both cold and hot nights to realise I need to return to simpler more noble pursuits, such as my estate.’
‘An admirable choice a number of gentlemen would do well to make.’ Sir Nathaniel regarded him with an appraising look, the kind Hugh usually saw in mamas sizing him up at balls as a potential catch before they wrinkled their noses in displeasure and moved on to greener and less tarnished pastures. Hugh waited for Sir Nathaniel to do the same, but instead he took a deep sip of his drink and set it down, more admiration in his expression than reprimand.
‘If you’d like, I can write to Allenton and Associates to recommend you to them so you receive their best service,’ Sir Nathaniel offered.
‘I’d like that very much.’ This raised his spirits more than brandy ever could. This was not the usual reaction he received from those who’d appraised him of late, especially those with whom he was not well acquainted. There was no reason for Sir Nathaniel to assist him, but Hugh was glad of his kindness and generosity and would do all he could to deserve it.
It was then Lord Westbook sat forward, his long and narrow face punctuated by a too snake-like smile. ‘I’m sure your turn towards temperance in this and other pursuits will help you a great deal in your case, Lord Delamare.’
Hugh pinned the man with a hard stare, in no mood to share any of his personal matters with this weasel. ‘My behaviour has no bearing on the enforcement of the law.’
‘Behaviour always has a bearing on cases for judges are men like any other and, given your opponent’s spotless reputation, a judge might look upon him more favourably than he does you.’
‘Careful how you call my reputation into question, Lord Westbook, or I may find a way to revive it in your eyes with a more formal challenge,’ Hugh growled in a low voice. Thankfully, Mr Alton asked Sir Nathaniel a question, drawing his attention away from the less-than-civil turn in Hugh and Lord Westbook’s conversation.
Lord Westbook went pale beneath his ruddy complexion, his spine not so stiff when faced with a challenge more formidable than making society ladies titter with delight at scandalous tales in order to secure an invitation to yet another party.
Hugh rather hoped Lord Westbook was man enough to force his hand, but Hugh didn’t wish to be rude to their host or to lose Sir Nathaniel’s newfound respect by calling out a fellow guest. Nor did he appreciate the kernel of truth in Lord Westbook’s nasty words. Hugh might not have done more than most lords in London, but he’d been careless in keeping it discreet. Lord Westbook was right. If his matter came before the wrong judge, Hugh’s past behaviour might be taken into account. It made his need to be impeccable and avoid any whiff of scandal from here on out far more pressing.
* * *
‘Lady Kingston, we haven’t had a chance to speak since you arrived.’ Lady Fulton squeezed in between Clara and Lady Pariston where they sat on the sofa, enjoying the fire and a great deal of catching up. Anne had been forced to leave the women directly after dinner to help take care of poor Lillie who’d eaten too many sweets and become sick in the nursery where the rest of the children dined. From across the new arrival, Lady Pariston threw Clara a sympathetic and curious look, both of them wondering what in the world Lady Fulton could possibly have to speak with Clara about. Lord Fulton was an agreeable man, but his considerably younger wife, who’d possessed more mercantile money than lineage before becoming Lady Fulton, wasn’t such a charming delight. She was tall and slender, and although her bloom had faded she was still attractive. However, her constant sneer did a great deal to temper it. ‘I must say, your necklace is gorgeous. Was it your mother’s?’
‘No, it was a Christmas present from my late husband,’ Clara answered coolly, irked by the woman’s uninvited intrusion and her ignoring Lady Pariston.
‘He had exquisite taste in jewellery,’ she purred with a covetousness to make Clara think she