“Are you quite sure he would not be more comfortable at the Red Lion, David?” Mr. Fleming faltered. “Or I am sure someone could lend him a horse or a chaise. Really, the spare bedroom…What do you think, Ellie?”
“We shall put him at the end of the hall where he will not be disturbed by the household noise,” David’s mother said. “I dare say David will not mind ensuring all is to his liking. It is worth the trouble, John dear, if he wishes to reengage David.”
“Well, but does David wish to be reengaged?” Mr. Fleming asked. “It is little more than a week since he arrived in some distress. You know you are welcome here as long as you like to stay, do you not, my boy? There is no need to take a place you find distasteful. Your mother and I are greatly enjoying your company.”
“Do you know, sir,” David said, “one of the best things my mother ever did was to present me with you as a father. I don’t know whether Lord Richard wishes to reengage me, or if I’d take the place if he did, but I would be most grateful if you could extend your hospitality to his lordship tonight. It is rather late for him to ride all the way to Tarlton March alone on an unfamiliar mount, and the sheets are so often damp at inns.”
“But—what sort of dinner can we serve him? I suppose we can eat in the kitchen, and perhaps you could think of something suitable for his lordship, Ellie?”
“He will dine with us, my dear.” Ellie’s tone brooked no dissent. “If our house and our table are good enough, so is our company.”
Which meant that, in a very little time, Lord Richard Vane was sitting down to dinner with them all.
David had made preparations in a haze, dizzy with anticipation, exerting his professional skills without thought. The reality of it, of his lordship dining with his mother, only sank in as Mr. Fleming said the grace with his voice shaking and it suddenly, horribly dawned upon David that he had brought together the people he most loved in the world with no idea how this might go.
The grace ended. An awful silence descended. Richard took a mouthful of the stew and said, “Delicious, Mrs. Fleming. Is this local lamb? One can’t mistake the taste of the Golden Fleece.”
And then, suddenly, they were talking, because of course Richard was a local man and dealt with so much of the Vane estates. He was able to speak of Cotswold sheep breeds, of farmers’ complaints and church issues; he listened with keen interest when Mr. Fleming was emboldened to put the case for a farmer enmeshed in a land dispute. Ellie was quiet, dropping in remarks to encourage her husband at first, then simply listening as he gained in confidence.
David sat and watched. He had never seen Richard in company before, and it was a masterful display of charm. Mr. Fleming blossomed; Ellie watched her husband with a small smile; David looked between them and could not quite believe it.
Mr. Fleming, who was not young, retired to bed around nine o’clock. He offered to stay up but was gently dismissed. “I shall remain a little longer, my dear,” Ellie told him. “I should like to talk to his lordship about David’s prospects. Good night.”
And then they were in the drawing room, David, his mother, and his no-longer master, not-yet lover, looking at one another.
“Well.” Ellie went to the sideboard. “We’ve plum brandy, your lordship. It’s a local drink, so I dare say you’ll praise it highly.”
“Mother,” David said.
“Mrs. Fleming, I grew up on it,” Richard said.
“I doubt that. If ever drink was like to stunt your growth—”
“Without it, I should have been six foot seven.”
Ellie snorted with reluctant, unladylike amusement and passed them both glasses. “I will leave you, but, Lord Richard? My son puts great faith in you.” She gave him a smile that could have cut skin. “I hope you are the man you seem.”
She swished out of the room in a rustle of skirts. Richard gave a soundless whistle. “Your mother is indeed remarkable. Does she truly not—I was going to say care, but that is not the word. She does not mind?”
“She loves me as I am.”
Richard’s smile twisted. “You’re a fortunate man.”
David looked at him, here. “Yes, I am. Do you want to drink that?”
“Good God, no.” Richard put the glass of plum brandy down. “David, a moment. If you wish to consider matters further—”
“I don’t.”
“Nor do I. I want to forget about care and responsibility and tomorrow. I want…” He moved then, quickly for such a large man, so that he was kneeling by David’s chair, clasping his hand. “I want you quite painfully. I have wanted you since you stepped into the room for interview all those years ago, and I thought I could silence my desires with livery and hair powder. You may tell me I am a damned fool if you like, and you may also tell me no. To anything. I want you to swear to me that you will say no if you think it. I have been wrong too often. I will not be wrong now.”