Belonging To The Earl

12.

When the stately carriage pulled up in front of the Thornton estate, Jason felt his heart sink just a little bit lower. And evening was best spent in a pub somewhere, in the company of men who understood exactly what a fellow man needed. 

Some laughter and hearty insults. Perhaps a brawl would break out later in the day, and someone would end up with a broken tooth and a black eye. That would have suited him nicely. 

But sitting here in the darkness of his carriage, on the threshold of what would surely turn out to be an infuriating evening, he realized that his evening would be anything but pleasant. 

Still, he wasn’t a man to back down when the deed was almost done. As the footman opened the carriage door, he stepped out and sighed heavily. 

Two hours; that was all he promised himself he would spend in their company. The viscount, who Jason only got to know was going to join the dinner that night, would surely have other matters that he needed to attend to, so there was no risk of the Thorntons even questioning his early departure.

A short flight of stairs led up to the front door, with a brass knocker which Jason pounded. Almost immediately, the door swung open and a butler peered down at him. 

"Lord Brighton," he said immediately, sinking into a deep bow. "Welcome."

"Thank you," Jason replied, divesting himself of his coat. He was led into an opulent dining room, where he was greeted by the master of the Thornton estate himself, along with Lady Thornton and her mother.

"It’s an honor, my lord," Viscount Waltson, who had been away for few weeks and had finally returned that very day said. He bowed stiffly, and Jason acknowledged it with an inclination of his head.  He bowed before Emily and her mother, the former wearing a bright blue gown which brought out her eyes. Her red curls were done up, and around her thin neck was the prettiest necklace he’d ever seen. She looked beautiful, he decided. 

At least before she opened her mouth and began to spite him. 

"My lady," he murmured, deepening his bow. 

"My lord," Emily replied, curtsying before him. "It’s an honor to have you here."

The opposite was actually the case. Emily despised his presence, and as she looked at his neatly polished oxfords, so clean that she could see her reflection in them, she felt another twinge of irritation towards him. 

Nevertheless, she tried to maintain a proper decorum, and when he complimented her on how beautiful she looked, her reply was to thank him for his generous remarks. But even as he spoke, she could see that the words didn’t reach his heart, nor did the smile reach his eyes. He merely said the words because that was what society would expect of him. She would have much rather preferred to hear his true opinion on her appearance than a fabricated lie to keep to societal norms. 

If Emily didn’t like someone’s appearance, she would tell them to their face. It was as simple as that. No matter that her words might hurt them; it was better than lying to their face and having them believe that they looked presentable when in reality, it was nothing short of a train-wreck. 

As they sat at the table and waited for the servants to serve out their dinner, Lord Thornton turned towards Jason, who was sitting at his right hand. Emily’s mother had taken her seat to his left, and as much as Emily didn’t enjoy it, she was forced to sit beside Lord Brighton, even with the six other seats that were unoccupied. 

"So, Lord Brighton," her father said, "what is your opinion on the return to the gold standard?"

Jason drew a blank at the statement, having no idea what the man was talking about. He’d only spent a short time in England, and it was so precious little for him to become accustomed to the political confabulations.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the viscount. 

"Well of course the House of Lords would be all for it," Lord Thornton said. "I know for a fact that Lord Hardwater had been pushing for the move, and he would have convinced half the court by now."

Jason blinked, his brain spinning in every possible direction to try and grasp some idea of what the bloody man was talking about. Here was another flaw in their plan, how little he knew of the way dear, old England worked. He didn’t understand the politics, the diplomacy, or even the basic principles of state affairs. Even the monarchy was unimportant to him. He supposed he ought to respect the Royal family, soon to become an Earl and all. But it was all so foreign to him that in that moment, he would have much preferred to return to America, where he didn’t have to bother himself with all this bollocks.

"Well," he said carefully, "I am of the opinion that the return to gold standard should be the House’s least concerns right now."

"And why is that?" Lord Thornton asked, genuinely intrigued. 

"The English Channel is what we should be discussing, really," he began. "Pirates are running wild all across the water, and even on the ports. It’s a dangerous route to travel now, and there must be something done to fix this issue. We are a nation built on trade. What happens if we lose the means to trade properly? These pirates are like a creature with multiple heads. You cut one off, and two others will sprout up in its place."

"I couldn’t agree more," Lord Thornton said. "A friend of mine, Sir Merry, lost two ship’s worth of goods barely a week ago across the channel. Attacked by pirates, and they were all the way from Italy."

Jason nodded affirmatively. He couldn’t believe his luck, seeing how the discussion of the pirates was a mere conversation he’d overheard aboard the ship on his way back to England. It had been in passing only, and yet it had saved him from utter embarrassment at the Thornton’s table. 

Dinner was served, roast beef, roasted potato, chicken broth, Yorkshire pudding, stuffing, some vegetables which Jason didn’t recognize and a thick, creamy gravy. As they began to eat, he realized that he ought to say something to Emily. It would only be polite. 

"You look lovely this evening, Miss Thornton," he said, turning slightly towards her. 

"You’ve said that already," Emily replied, to which her mother gave her a resounding kick to the shin. Her jump startled both Jason and her father, who looked at her quizzically. 

"I mean, thank you, Lord Brighton," she amended quickly. "Although I feel the need to point out that there are other attributes of a woman that you can compliment beside her appearance."

"Well forgive me," Jason said stiffly, "but I am still not acquainted with you to the level where I can compliment your other attributes, seeing how little about you I actually know. Perhaps if you would care to enlighten me…"

"Oh, Emily is very talented at the pianoforte," her mother said immediately, her smile so innocent that no one would have believed what went on beneath the table. "Her knitting is excellent as well, and she could run a house accordingly by the time she was only nine years old."

"I am also particularly proficient at fencing," Emily added, carefully moving her leg out of the way before her mother could seek it out again. Sure enough, from the look on her face, she knew she’d tried to kick her again and missed. 

"Fencing?" Jason said astonishingly. 

"It was my idea," Lord Thornton said, smiling apologetically. "I merely indulged her when she showed interest in it at a young age."

"I also enjoy horseback riding," she added. "And father even once taught me how to handle a gun…"

"That is enough, Emily," her mother said in a clipped tone. Emily turned to look at her sourly, and then she returned to her chicken broth. 

"That is quite…interesting," Jason said, noticing the change in atmosphere. "Perhaps in time, I could witness these skills of yours for myself. Or am I not allowed to come?"

Emily said nothing, and her silence struck a part of him the wrong way. Here he was, trying to make an effort to appear cordial, and she was just blowing him off like his words meant nothing. Once again, he was reminded of just how irritating her presence would be. 

Emily felt the same way. She had told him all those things in the hope that it would deter him from showing interest in her. Any sane man would take to the heels upon learning that his betrothed was accustomed to fencing, and shooting rabbits during the winter. But Lord Brighton seemed to not care, and it merely irritated her even more. 

The rest of their dinner passed with her mother trying to paint her as the perfect English lady. She told Lord Brighton about her skill in artwork, to which Emily snorted; she could barely tell the difference between red and maroon. 

"Will you be attending Lady Gwenevire’s ball perhaps?" her mother asked. "I couldn’t help but notice that you were absent at Lady Macklemore’s ball three days ago."

"Busy with work," Jason replied. "I believe I mentioned that I wouldn’t attend if I didn’t have the time."

"Of course," she replied quickly. “But you simply cannot miss Lady Gwen’s ball. I’m sure you would be her special guest of honor if you were to attend, the handsome earl who very few people see out and about in society."

"I shall consider it," Jason said, which sounded to Emily like he was implying that he was above such mundane activities like balls. Who did he think he was, sitting there with his spine straight and his chin tilted upwards, thinking that he could speak to them in that manner? She gripped her spoon tighter, wishing she could stab him in the eye with it. 

Once the dinner was over, Jason announced his departure. 

"I’m afraid I have a late meeting with Lord Blackpool which I simply cannot ignore," he said. "But thank you for the dinner. It was excellent. My compliments to the chef."

"It was an honor," Emily’s mother said, curtsying before him. She nudged Emily forward, who merely looked at him in distaste. She saw her irritation reflected in his eyes, and she was confident in the knowledge that she wasn’t alone. 

"Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Lord Brighton," she said, curtsying reluctantly. 

"The pleasure was all mine," Jason replied as the doorman fetched his coat, lying through his teeth. He couldn’t wait to step out of the house and into the fresh air outside, away from the impossible presence of Lady Thornton. 

As he walked away, her father placed a hand on her shoulder. 

"Charming man, isn’t he?" he said. 

Oh, Emily could think of a dozen possible adjectives to describe Lord Brighton and his haughty nature. And charming was as far from the list as any word could be.