Free The Lonely Earl by Vanessa Gray

had taken it upon herself to read him a lesson on his duty. The woman whose voice — carrying and forceful — had informed all in the house, and outside the house as well, that he was odious, arrogant, and a monster. His face was impassive as always, but an imp sat somewhere in his mind and prodded.
    “Not at all,” he continued. “I am sure that my neighbors will be kind, and take pity upon a poor expatriate.” He glanced again at Faustina, this time making sure that she caught his eye.
    She returned his glance innocently, secure in her conviction that he had forgotten the incident at Trevan. “I am sure we are all delighted to have the earl back with us once again,” she said untruthfully, “but I am sure too that he will find us dull before long.”
    Before Hugh took his leave, Louisa cried with a happy air of discovery, “I know! We’ll have a ball! A mere country affair, of course, but perhaps you’ll find it beguiling in a way. You must come!”
    The earl paused, regretful. “I am sorry—”
    “Next Friday evening!” she suggested. “Please say you’ll come.”
    Hugh looked thoughtful. “Next Friday? I am so sorry. I have another engagement that day that I fear will make it impossible for me.” His tone was reluctant, as though any other time would be appropriate, but his luck was out.
    As, in truth, it was. For Louisa said, “Then we’ll have our party another day, to make sure you can come. You must tell me what day is best.”
    It was surprising, thought Faustina later, that lightning did not strike Kennett Chase at that moment. For Louisa had already written out the invitations, naming the next Friday. The earl had mendaciously asserted that he would have great pleasure in attending, if only it had been fixed for another day. Lord Egmont fulminated, so far in silence, but an explosion of his normally equable temperament seemed likely. And Julia looked as though she would like to curl up in a closet with the door closed, or, failing that, simply expire on the spot.
    But Hugh was equal to the strain placed on his civility. “How very kind of you, Lady Waverly. I must not put you to so much trouble. But, if you should insist upon Friday, then I shall change my own plans. I would not want to disappoint such an obliging hostess.”
    As he bent once again over Lady Waverly’s fingertips, he glanced directly at Faustina, and the flickering flame in his eyes gave him what she could only think of, later, as a very wicked expression.
    Egmont’s boiling emotions now took a new turn. He had been too well-bred to say what he thought, and the words that now emerged surprised even him. “I suppose the vicar will insist upon coming.”
    Pendarvis swung to face him. “The vicar? I remember, it was long ago, but my father used to entertain the vicar to dinner. Who has the living now, sir?”
    “The same old Astley. What your father was thinking of,” pronounced Egmont, “I can’t think. Bees in his belfry. Not your father. That idiot Astley.”
    Faustina interposed, “Who, by the way, has been dining here at the Chase twice a week now, since Crale does not invite him. And I must say, he misses the elegance of Crale.”
    Pendarvis lifted an eyebrow. “Elegance? At Crale? Surely you must be mistaken.”
    Lady Waverly cried, “I remember Crale. A dark, undistinguished place. But It has possibilities!”
    “Pendarvis won’t thank you for running down his home.” said Egmont bluntly. “Best let it alone.”
    Lady Waverly said stiffly, “You read too much into my words.”
    The situation appeared to be disintegrating. Hugh made one attempt to retrieve it. “Twice a week? My recollection may be faulty, but it comes to mind that my father could suffer him only once a fortnight. But perhaps his conversation was improved, sir?”
    “Not likely!”
    Amusement leaped in the young earl’s eves. “I confess I cannot see how vou could tolerate him. If he is so bad, perhaps another living might be found for