Playing To Win

“You’re making fun of him. You always make fun of the ton.”

“Well, they do such stupid things sometimes, and other than supporting playwrights and artists, I’m not sure what use some of them are. Although they do sometimes surprise me.”

“You will find Lord Cairnbrooke to be a man of excellent good sense.”

“I’m sure, which is why he wants to rid himself of a troublesome son almost as much as you want rid of me.”

“The truth of the matter is, they want to put an end to the talk as soon as may be.”

“Before he is well enough to be bothersome again, you mean?”

“They feel marriage, especially with a sensible girl, will settle him down, give him responsibilities, an interest in life.” Barclay resumed his methodical pacing.

“But what if he doesn’t care for me?”

“I can’t see why he wouldn’t. You are pretty enough. No one would know to look at you how bookish you are.”

“Why, thank you,” Sera said, with a prim smile.

“Well, you know what I mean.”

Sera laughed her rich laugh. “Very well. I will do it for Lady Jane.”

“I don’t understand.” Her father stopped in front of the desk.

“It’s been obvious to me for some time that she will never marry you until I am settled. She is afraid of interfering in your household.”

“You little fox. I should have known we could not keep that from you.” He lifted her chin up with a finger. “So I will go from one cat’s paw to another. Just as you like.”

“What night shall I invite them for?”

“Saturday next—but I’ve already taken care of that.”

“Father! What if I had refused?”

“I knew I could rely on your good judgment. You have never failed me.”

Sera tried to go back to her perusal of The Times after her father left her, but she found her thoughts interrupted by the memory of a pair of laughing blue eyes that looked like they were lit from within. She knew an uneasy sympathy for this Tony, since she had an inkling of what had driven him to such stupid extremes, but she did not think it would work. If it came to making a push to fascinate him, she could not. Such artifices would cause her to laugh at herself the way she sometimes laughed at other women.

* * *

“Would you like to look over this draft of the marriage settlements? Quite handsome of Barclay, I assure you, but he can afford it.” Lord Cairnbrooke polished off his brandy and raised the paper to close scrutiny again as he sat with Tony in his dim study.

“No, I’m sure they’re fine. You are good at that sort of thing, Father,” Tony said in a lackluster way from the other armchair.

Lord Cairnbrooke eyed him suspiciously, but could detect no insult in the remark. He smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Where is your mother?” he demanded rhetorically. “Amanda!” he shouted, without leaving the room or even getting up. “We are going to be late!”

Tony winced and leaned his head back on the chair pillow.

“Here, drink this,” his father commanded, putting a glass of brandy in his hand. “No one will expect you to make her an offer tonight. Simply get acquainted, and make yourself pleasing to her. I have no doubts on that score. If the girl proves impossible, of course, we can still bow out of it.”

“Oh, she’s not impossible. In fact, she’s a good deal more respectable than any of us. If anything, she may be too straitlaced to suit you.”

“Good Lord—not a bluestocking, I hope.”

“No...no,” Tony mused, trying to call up Serafina’s face. “I remember she has quite a nice smile, when she can spare it, and the loveliest hair.”

“I didn’t know you were even acquainted with her. That is well done of you.”

“Unfortunately, she has most likely seen me make a fool of myself on more than one occasion, so that is no advantage to me.”

“Don’t let it prey on your mind— Amanda!” Lord Cairnbrooke shouted again, without even turning his head.

Tony jumped, and the door opened to admit a footman. “Lady Cairnbrooke has been waiting in the carriage, sir.”

“Just like her not to tell us.” Cairnbrooke solicitously helped his son out of the chair, but drew a grunt of surprise from him by clapping him on the shoulder.

* * *

Tony was looking very handsome, Sera thought, in spite of a slight pallor and his arm still being in a sling. The dinner was excellent; the conversation was a compromise. Not for the first time in her career as a hostess, Sera had to bridge the gaps between guests with divergent interests. Her father would have talked of nothing but finance, Lord Cairnbrooke of nothing but horses and the hunt. In politics they might have found common ground, but she decided not to risk it. Besides, that would let out Lady Amanda and Lady Jane, and poor Tony, who seemed to have scant interest in anything. Small wonder. He looked to be turning a little feverish, and it took all his effort to eat one-handed without a disaster.

Under his father’s menacing scrutiny, Tony made one sally at polite conversation and then subsided.

“Is that Belgium lace, my dear?” Lady Amanda asked.

“Yes, it’s very nearly the only thing I brought back with me,” Sera answered.

“You were in Belgium? When?” Tony asked, with a spark of interest.

“In the spring,” Sera said hesitantly, not wanting to remind him. “We thought it was safe to take a house there for the season. I had no idea it would get so exciting.”

“I should never have left you there just to come back and tend to business,” Barclay said with regret.

“But I chose to stay. None of us took Napoleon very seriously then.”

“You were trapped there, during the battle?” Tony asked eagerly.

“No. I suppose I could have left at any time, but I did not want to. The suspense was terrible. I wanted to know the worst as soon as possible. Fortunately, we won, but—”

“The cost was dear,” Tony said, looking away.

“Yes, my maid was scandalized when I ripped up my muslin dresses for bandages,” she said lightly, trying to divert his thoughts from his brother.

“You what?” asked Lady Amanda and Lady Jane in unison.

“We couldn’t sacrifice the sheets. We needed those for the wounded.”

“But you mean they carried wounded into our house?” sputtered her father.