Free The Birthday Scandal by Leigh Michaels Page A

stomach. Thank you, Chalmers,” Gavin added as the butler set a tankard of ale before him.
    The prospect of a lecture didn’t seem to bother him much, however, Emily thought as he applied himself with steady concentration to his breakfast.
    Since her father’s presence seemed to put paid to her plan to roam the countryside by herself, Emily decided she might as well enjoy breakfast. She put a spoonful of shirred eggs, a slab of ham, and a slice of toast on her plate and took the chair next to Gavin. He looked startled at her choice of seats, and she wanted to tell him that she’d opted for that position only because it meant he wouldn’t be in her field of vision and she could ignore him more easily than if she were sitting across the table. But even though telling him would be satisfying for a moment, doing so meant she’d have to admit that she had noticed him enough to make a deliberate choice.
    There were moments, Emily thought, when the simplicity of her life in Barton Bristow looked appealing after all. On the other hand, she hadn’t tasted anything nearly as good as the ham, which had probably been cured right on the duke’s estate, in as long as she could remember.
    She sipped the tea Chalmers had poured for her, spread butter on her toast, and addressed her father. “I assume you intend to call on Miss Fletcher at Mallowan this morning and would like Isabel and me to do so as well. But since you are surely not intending to defer to our opinions regarding your plans to marry, I see no point in going through the motions.”
    Chiswick’s eyebrows rose. “But my dear, it was your own plan to call on Lady Fletcher. To refuse to do so simply because of her daughter makes you sound like a small child throwing a tantrum.”
    “Correct me if I’m wrong, Lady Emily,” Gavin murmured, “but I think that is what’s known as being hoist with your own petard.” He finished his ale and excused himself before Emily could retort.
    “In any case,” Chiswick went on, “what could you possibly find lacking in Miss Fletcher?”
    Emily dropped her fork. “What on earth are you thinking, Father, to betroth yourself to Chloe Fletcher? Or indeed any other young woman—at your age?” She wanted to say, “Have you a maggot in your brain?” and was proud of herself for resisting the temptation.
    She thought he would refuse to answer, or snap at her not to be impertinent to her elders. Instead, Chiswick replied quite calmly. “You should not be surprised that the idea of starting a new family has occurred to me, since all my children are unsatisfactory in various ways.”
    Emily gasped. “And if we’re unsatisfactory, whose fault is that? You matched Isabel with a man who wanted her only for the property she brought with her, and then you wonder why it is not a successful marriage. You tried to marry me off to Philip Rivington, and you didn’t turn a hair when he was shot in a duel over Lucilla Lester just a day after the betrothal was announced. You’ve tried to sell Lucien to each empty-headed ninnyhammer who has joined the ton , so long as she has a pedigree and an enormous dowry.”
    “Hartford is empty-headed himself.”
    “He is not. You haven’t tried to know him. Mother would not have allowed—” She swallowed the rest of the protest.
    Chiswick seemed not to hear. “Thank you for the well-timed reprimand, my dear. I shall keep Hartford beside me on our ride today so I may discover what is hidden under that fluff of hair.” He folded the newspaper with precision and went out.
    Emily bit her lip. Not only had she failed to make headway on her main point, but Lucien was not going to thank her if he was subjected to the constant presence of the earl on their ride. It must be six miles across country to the Fletchers’ home. She didn’t care to think of the number of scathing comments the earl could deliver in the time it would take to ride so far.
    As though her remorse had summoned him, Lucien appeared