Chapter Text
Dasset, the butler of the Ombersley house on Berkeley Square was not so old that he did not recognise Sir Noah Stilinski as his ladyship's only remaining family, even if only by marriage, and, as he tried to explain that her ladyship was currently not in to callers but would be delighted to see him he was handed a heavy greatcoat, complete with capes, a fine beaver topper, gloves, and cane as Sir Noah, never one to wait on circumstance, pushed past him towards the stairs.
Mrs Dorothy Hale nee Gajos, Lady Ombersley, was woken from a mild doze by the entrance of the august gentleman. She had settled in along her chaise with a rug tucked about her knees to counter the late February damp and the intent to read the latest burning hearts novel acquired from the lending library to decide whether it was suitable for her two middle daughters, Millicent - most often called Malia, and Serena. But the combination of a soft surface, a warm rug, a merrily burning fire, a ticking mantle clock, combined with a hearty serving of pork pie for luncheon had quite undone the intent to read so when Noah Stilinski bulled into her sitting room she sat up with a yelp and dropped the book flat upon the carpet so suddenly that she was convinced that she had brained the dog.
It happened so quickly she did not immediately remember that she had left her spaniels at Ombersley Court in Leicester, due to their advanced age and increasing distrust of stairs. She had just managed to swing her legs off the chaise when Dasset, charmed to be remembered by such a fine gentleman as Sir Noah, introduced her guest.
Lady Ombersley felt a little poleaxed by the arrival of her late sister's husband for she was sure that he had not sent word ahead that he was coming.
"Hullo, Dolly," he said taking a seat, "it is alright, Dasset, I won't be needing tea, I shan't be staying long."
Sir Noah Stilinski was Lady Ombersley's brother by marriage and who had, since the terrible death of his wife of puerperal fever, served his country as part of its diplomatic corps all across Europe, as necessary in the fine ball rooms of Vienna as the mud of a battlefield in Lisbon.
He was a tall, slender man with a solid frame that spoke of long hours in the saddle, Sir Noah did not care to travel by carriage if he could avoid it, and neatly dressed sandy hair with more grey in it than she remembered. He had a handsome, if somewhat square, face and bright blue eyes that she had always felt saw much more than he allowed people to think he perceived. He was always almost professionally dishevelled in a way that spoke of busyness as opposed to professional self entertainment.
"Noah," Lady Ombersley tried to protest, "you must send word when you are in London." It would allow her to have her children prettily presented and not herself be draped along the chaise and snoring.
"Nonsense, Dolly," he said with a beaming grin that had always blown away the cobwebs from her reservations, "I'm not in London for more than a day, if I sent word I'd be stuck here for at least two and never get anything done. I am overrun as it is, but I knew that you would never forgive me if you learned later that I was in London and did not call." She made an unhappy noise that suggested that she knew perfectly well that he was making a sop to her feelings. "Now, Dolly, you must tell me how you are. You've thickened at the waist a little, but five years have done that to us all," he patted his own very slim waist. He had the same figure he had had as a courting gentleman these twenty five years past.
"A fright, indeed, you gave me," Lady Ombersley said, unhooking the vinaigrette from the front of her gown and holding it beneath her nose. "You know, Noah, that my nerves are excitable, I do not think I have felt so weakened since my dear Natalia was taken to her bed to deliver her son. Did I tell you that Natalia had presented her husband an alpha son? I feel we can all allow a little nap and perhaps too much pork pie when we are grandparents, we are past, then, the concessions to beauty."
Sir Noah laughed heartily. "Well said, Dolly. How's Hale?" Even these years later Sir Noah referred to her husband by his family name and not his title. She was aware of the tension between them, for her husband, her dear P, had not gone to the Gajos house to woo Dorothy but instead her late sister, Claudia. If Lady Ombersley had ever resented her sister for such interests on her husband's part she had had near twenty five years of marriage to consider it done.
Peter Hale, Lord Ombersley, was the younger son of a storied peer, whose alpha sister had followed their parents into the history books and left her younger alpha brother a small estate, an unimportant title, and a comfortable allowance.
"He complains of gout," Lady Ombersley said, "but with all of the folderol at the moment I think he uses it as an excuse to be sour and spend more time at his club. And his friends, I had thought that the alpha boys would have the most unsuitable friends, and perhaps that is true of Liam," if Sir Noah did not know which of Dolly's brood she was speaking of he showed no sign, "but my dear P, he has fallen into the set of the Duke of York, and as we all know, he is quite the rattle."
If Sir Noah was surprised to hear Lady Ombersley using the lowest of cant, he did not show it. The Duke of York was quite the rattle indeed. He was also currently the second in line for the throne after King George, who was as mad as a march hare, and his son the Prince Regent, whose only child, an omega boy called Charles, had died in childbirth.
It would be a dark day indeed when that idiot sat on the throne, but the civil service, house of lords, and East India companies had been working without a monarch for years, it would probably be little change to the average Englishman.
Lady Ombersley worried about the direction of the conversation and hoping to spend at least a little idle comment with her brother-in-law asked him from whence he came and he replied curtly, "Lisbon."
This came as a surprise to Lady Ombersley who was sure the long peninsula war had ended two years previously and thus could not see the point of her brother-in-law being in Portugal, which was, as far as she understood it, merely the best coasts for Napoleon to attack England. She was also reasonably certain that the last letter he had sent her had been from the Imperial court in Vienna, but that had been cut short by the escape of the odious Elba imp as the yellow papers had taken to calling him. That reminded her, "Of course, you have a house there, how could I forget, and how is dear Mieczyslaw?" She had never approved of her sister's naming of her omega heir, it had far too many letters used wrongly for English society but it didn't matter much if he was spending his life traipsing through the European courts.
"In matter of fact," Sir Noah said, crossing his ankles in front of him the way he had when he had been up to mischief with Claudia, and there was an ache there at the memory and the loss of her sister, knowing that this at least was a bond she and Sir Noah shared indelibly. "It's about Stiles that I wished to speak to you."
Sir Noah had been a confident widower for near twenty years and whenever Lady Ombersley had offered him any kind of aid, succour, or support he had ignored her. He paid not the least attention to any suggestion of how he should raise Mieczyslaw, so him suddenly asking for that aid gave Lady Ombersley pause.
"Yes, Noah, dear little Mischief, I do not think I have laid eyes on him these five years past. How old is he now? I suppose he must be almost out."
"Been out for years," Sir Noah shrugged the answer off, "no real reason not to be, he's twenty."
"Twenty!" exclaimed Lady Ombersley, for she always remembered Mischief, as just about everyone in the family called him, a tyke, was only a little younger than her own Malia who had come out only the previous year, but who had bloomed into a beauty in the autumn after her first season. Claudia had been pregnant at the same time as Dolly had with her first set of twins, Malia and her alpha brother, Liam. "How quickly the time flies and how long it has been since we lost dear Claudia. Does he still favour her? She was so lovely."
Sir Noah's expression closed itself off, the way it always did when Claudia came up in conversation, and he made an acknowledging noise. "One forgets, you know, but I am sure that he favours me much more than her, everyone comments on it."
"I am sure he has been a balm to you," Lady Ombersley had the impression she had walked into some boggy territory and could not find solid ground, "and you, of course, are devoted to the boy."
"I've been far too busy to be devoted. If he had caused any trouble, I wouldn’t have kept him with me. Never troublesome to me, was my Stiles."
"I am sure, but to be dragging such a creature across Europe, surely he would have been better at a school, or here, in London with me."
"School would have ruined him. Looked into it once, no mathematics. How is an omega supposed to manage a household without mathematics? A fortune a year for him to learn flower arranging and embroidery, not how to manage one's staff. Absolute waste of money, would have made him missish, could not abide that." He paused, "The thing is, Dolly, I've run into something of a cropper, and you are the best option of a bad bunch, I want you to look after Stiles whilst I'm in Brazil."
"Brazil?"
"I can't imagine I'll be gone much more than a year but Stiles is of that age, he needs to cast about him for a mari of some kind and certainly he won't find a suitable spouse from the army set, and he knows it. I can't just leave him in Stanton-Lacy with Tilly as she died, back in Vienna. First time she was ever inconvenient. Damn carriage ran her over."
"Tilly?" Lady Ombersley, never as smart as her sister, was completely out in the bog and had no idea at all how to even flail about for solid ground.
"His governess, fine woman, Mrs Tillinghast, a widow I hired in London when Stiles was still on apron strings. Jane Finch, you might remember her as Claudia's abigail, she is devoted to Stiles as if he was her own and Stiles goes nowhere without her, but it wouldn't be right, Finch can't introduce him to society. He's had chaperones enough in Europe but I can't think of one here other than you. I can't just leave him alone in London, I shall never hear the end of it."
"As you should not," Lady Ombersley said, "but although I would do anything to oblige you, for,"
"Of course," Sir Noah spoke over her, "he'll make a fine companion for that second girl of yours, Mildred, Millicent, Matilda," Sir Noah was so excellent at managing his duties as a diplomatist that the names of people he did not need to flatter fell out of his head. "Stiles is such a dear thing, I am sure that they shall get along famously, not a drop of vice in the boy."
Lady Ombersley was quite of the impression that the reality was being a touch sugar coated, if not outright dipped in chocolate because the thing that she remembered most of her nephew was that everyone called him
Mischief. "I am sure but," she said.
"He is of age to start a family of his own and surely the men in London are better suited to a young omega who will inherit all of my wealth. I knew that I could depend on you, you are his only other blood relative and well respected here in London. You saw Natalia well married, is it true that she has been safely delivered?"
Lady Ombersley did not have her husband's quick wit or her sister's deep well of human understanding, but even she, who had often lamented that she was barely clever enough to manage the household accounts, was sure she was being bammed. "I should be happy to bring him out," Lady Ombersley began, "but the thing is," she paused, "certainly Noah it would be the thing to do, but you must understand, presenting Malia last year was such an expense and with her yet unwed, and with Liam at Oxford and the twin boys up at Eton next year, with the preparations for Serena and the costs."
"If it's just money," Sir Noah said with a shrug, "don't think of it, I shall front the cost, you won't need to present him at court, no need for that nonsense, and if I had time I would find some other matron to do this, I understand you are overwhelmed, but I have to have everything in order by the end of the day so I can go to Bristol to put things in order there and back to Lisbon. I don't have time to dilly-dally worrying over such things. Stiles has access to my accounts, been managing my household since he was fourteen, never have to worry about him drawing money for frivolous things, he's got a good head on his shoulders, that he inherited from his mother. You just present him with his cousins, meet the right set of people. It's hardly coronets and panniers, Dolly, hardly any kind of bother."
"It would not be a bother," she said, "you are right that he could accompany Malia and Liam, even Derek, when they are about town, but," she paused taking a deep breath to steel her nerves for she was certain that she was about to be bulled over again. "We have decided not to entertain much this year."
That caught Sir Noah by surprise, "With a gaggle of omega on your hands, you should be."
"Noah!" Lady Ombersley said in a voice full of exasperation, "I do not have so many omega. Malia is out, Serena is only fifteen, and little Amabelle is only seven, she shall not be out of the schoolroom for at least a decade, and taking a year's respite will hardly affect their chances, and Malia has a collection of invitations that will see her out at least twice a week from now until June."
"Are you worried that Stiles will take the shine from Malia, for you have the wrong of it, my Stiles is no beauty. Far too brown from forever being horsebound in Lisbon, is hardly indoors if the sun is shining and it has given him almost the look of the natives. You might think him handsome enough, for he has Claudia's eyes and mouth, but he cannot compete with your Malia, whom I saw last year, and she's a very pretty slip of a thing. I remember I was surprised for you were never more than common featured yourself, but her father, I suppose, is where she gets her looks. Not a trace of Claudia in the girl, very pretty though."
Lady Ombersley was not quite sure what of that statement was insult and what was flattery. She often had that problem when it came to Sir Noah, who was so used to running roughshod over foreign diplomats, soldiers and other nabobs that he left her quite behind.
"It is not that, Noah, Malia is about to contract a very eligible marriage." She was trying to explain to him but the words were getting more muddle the longer he stayed talking to her. It had been simple this morning.
"That's good," Sir Noah said, "always easier to find a prospect if you've already got one on the hook. Stiles will give you no bother, he's a personable thing with a snug fortune in his cards, even without dear Claudia's remembrances. No fear of him marrying just to disoblige us either, he's got a stout head on his shoulders, a very sensible boy and he's got a strong dash of that continental brass from being all over. Who have you got for Malia?"
"Jordan Parrish, he's the new lord Charlbury, he asked my dear P for permission to address her, and even to dance the waltz."
"Parrish, eh?" Sir Noah nodded in approval of the match. He did not know the young man but he knew his estates well enough, neighbouring as they did his household of Stanton-Lacy. "You must be proud as a new papa, Dolly, I didn't think you'd catch such a prize with Malia being in her second season and hardly a diamond, and with Hale running through his fortune like a dose of the salts."
“Parrish," Lady Ombersley insisted, "is incredibly wealthy and quite smitten with our daughter. I know he has no need of any portion that we might bestow upon Malia.
“Come now, Dolly, there is no need to take offence, he's obviously waited for the girl, being thirty isn't he? He shall set her up in fine fettle."
Lady Ombersley sighed, "They are so well suited and should make a fine match."
"But," Sir Noah did not need any interrogation skills in order for Lady Ombersley to dump the whole affair unto his lap.
"He is everything that is amiable and obliging, his manners are exquisite, he is well educated, even if it was at Cambridge, and his figure is everything that is elegant, but,"
"But," Sir Noah said again.
"He has had to rusticate, Noah, it’s the absolute worst thing for he has gone and caught the mumps." Sir Noah couldn't help the snigger that escaped him. "And it's been decided that whilst he is absent that we shall not entertain for it."
"Nonsense, if she is contracted, there is no reason not to let her enjoy the season."
"But that's it, she's not contracted yet, just as he was to ask, and we were sure that she would agree, for my dear P would not force her to marry if her heart were somewhere else, he has stated it many times, when Parrish developed the mumps of all things and, to make matters worse Malia has up and declared that she is in love with Scott McCall."
"McCall?" Noah asked, "Don't they have something like eight alpha boys to provide for."
"Yes, and Scott is the seventh; he is so handsome, however, that even matrons have turned their heads to see him pass."
"Well, you only have to wait until Charlbury is over the mumps," Sir Noah said.
"I wish that were so, for you see McCall is a poet."
Sir Noah did laugh out loud at that. "Any good?"
"No, all of his work is simple, derivative, and according to Derek, barely worth using as kindling. He keeps trying to deny the young man entry to the house but McCall is so oblivious in his worship of Malia, whom he considers his muse, that he keeps showing up anyway, which angers Derek so much that we are all on eggshells and when he said that we should not entertain this season we agreed."
"Derek, Hale's nephew, the one that survived the house fire?" Sir Noah was not as sure about the entirety of his sister-in-law’s household for there were a lot of children to be kept track of.
"Yes, Derek, he came to stay with us after the fire, and he has announced his engagement to Miss Argent, so if we plunge the house into gaiety for Stiles he would not like it above half."
Sir Noah was lost now, the conversation having taken several circumlocutions that had left him quite behind. "Why should it matter if Derek does not like it?"
Lady Ombersley sighed, "It is all madness, Noah, I barely know where it is I am from one day to the next. You see Derek has engaged to marry Miss Argent and she is mourning her aunt,"
"Which one?" Sir Noah asked.
"Kate."
"You're not entertaining because the girl is in black gloves over Kate Argent?" He was checking that the information was right, "The rest of the ton possibly threw parties upon hearing that she had done something good and died." Lady Ombersley nodded as he continued, "And old Argent has managed to get Derek engaged to the girl."
"Allison is a dear girl; she is everything that a matron of society hopes for their beta daughter. Her manners are exquisite, and she is considered quite lovely. She has an excellent education, and her principles are above reproach."
"It does not surprise me," Sir Noah said dismissively, "that Victoria Argent's daughter is a dead bore."
"Derek does not care for lively prospects, or extravagance, or all the little follies that debutantes prepare. He has confided in me that he considers Miss Argent's grave demeanour to be a balm against the chaos of this house."
"I am beyond surprise," Sir Noah drawled, "that the son of Talia Hale is such a bore himself. Did she find him in the cabbage patch or perhaps trade him for a changeling?"
"Noah!" Lady Ombersley chided him, "You know that you should not speak so of the dead, especially those who died so violently, in case they come to haunt you." She fumbled for the cross that she wore on a chain next to her vinaigrette and kissed it. She took a deep sigh before she continued. "I am sure you do not understand, Noah, it is," she paused.
"I am pretty sure that I do not," he agreed.
"Charles Rivenhall, Derek's great uncle, died and left the fortune he made in India entirely to him, my dear P did not see a single penny of it, said that Peter would burn through it paying for that rattle of his. So there he was on his deathbed, left the lot to Derek."
"God above," Sir Noah ejaculated. "Such isn't done, Dolly."
"Then you know Charles Rivenhall well, and you know how contrary an old man he was, said Derek was the only Hale worth a damn." Still holding the cross and vinaigrette in her hands, Lady Ombersley tried to reach for the fringing of her shawl, but found her hands already encumbered and instead took a deep breath from the perfumed sponge. She needed the restorative.
"So Derek rules the roost?"
Lady Ombersley just nodded. "It all happened so quickly, and he has had my dear P agree to his terms, he has taken over the household entire."
"He didn't take Hale's debts did he? Surely he's not that stupid."
"It had gotten very bad, Noah. Why, I do not have to worry about a single bill or receipt, there is always tea in the panty, and with a portion for Malia to be arranged, and school fees for Flotsam and Jetsam at Eton, and Liam at Oxford. It was bad, Noah, it looked like it might only be one of the boys who could be paid for, and nothing left for Serena or Amabelle. You can see why Derek would be so anxious that Malia would make a good match in the two years since the old man died."
"Two years?!" Noah asked, "Why is this the first that I am heard of it?"
"Because every time you call in, you are gone before the rain has dropped from your greatcoat." She replied.
"It is a rough thing to blackmail one's own uncle in such a way," Sir Noah said talking about Derek and ignoring what she had said to him.
"He has nothing but respect for my dear P, I promise you, but he has taken over everything; he has even gotten the Duke of York to pay some of the debts that P was given in his name, he administers all of the business now and..."
"Still, a damned lack of respect. You did not need to take the boy in, Rivenhall could have. What was he, fourteen?"
"He understands the business side of things," Lady Ombersley mollified, "something that my dear P never did. And then when Kate Argent died, he postponed his wedding, for it is very unseemly for a bride to be in black gloves."
"He didn't announce it, did he? The Argents might be after Rivenall's fortune, not a one of them I would trust with walking my dogs, and I do not keep dogs, and so the house is shut down because the Argent chit is in black gloves and he's not married to her yet, and I suppose Malia will marry the poet to complete the whole set of this charade."
"Oh, please do not even say so, Noah, but you can see why I would be loath to introduce Stiles in the middle of this entire fix."
"McCall's of a similar status in society," Noah shrugged off, "and they have known each other since infancy, with you and Lady McCall sharing such long acquaintance. If they can live comfortably off her portion, you should allow the match."
"He wasn't this handsome before he went to Brussels, and her dear friend Miss Friday married and moved to the midlands, leaving her with no one to talk sense to her. It has all gone quite mad and the only sensible person left in the house, I fear, is Serena."
—-
The right honorable Frederick Hale, Baronet Rivenhall, was twenty-six years old, but a remarkable countenance coupled with an easy assurance tempered by a great deal of reserve made him appear much older, perhaps in his mid-thirties. He was a tall, firmly built young man who gave the impression that he would be better suited in the country, carrying a rifle and surrounded by hounds. He always seemed ill at ease in the comfortable sitting rooms of London, and took the opportunity to duck his aunt's company if he found her with others, after a polite how do you do.
He always wore riding dress, with his pants made of the finest jean, for he liked how they loosened up on his thigh in wear, and a broadcloth jacket in preference to the more fashionable cuts and hessians. He chose the plainest of styles, with a jacket cut that he might shrug it on without aid of a valet, and a neck tie in the simplest knot for he despised people fussing over him.
He had exclaimed to his closest friend, Mr Isaac Lahey, that he never hoped to be confused for one of the fashionable set for there was not enough hours in the day for such vanity when there was work to be done, Mr Lahey had replied he would need divine intervention to drop the scales from the eyes of the dandies for them to accept him as one of their own, for nothing less could see that mistake made.
The dandies were not just men of vanity but such exquisite dress and manner that made them welcome in any drawing room where Derek, as most called him, found the most welcome in a packed drawing room from a cracked window that he might, given chance, escape through. He treated those whom he did not know well with a cold civility that bordered on insult, and, if they were someone for whom he held disdain, he could stare them down in silence until it was clear to all present that he would rather be dressed as a dandy than spend more than a moment listening to their conversation. He had a tendency to make insulting comments that concealed themselves as politesse, and Lahey was sure to reassure him when he had doubts of his place among the ton that he was more likely to be considered a yahoo than a nabob.
As he shut the door behind him, his aunt grasped his entrance as a lifeline and said, "Derek, look it is your uncle Noah."
Derek was the nephew of Lord Ombersley and as such was not related to Sir Noah in any way, nevertheless his aunt had taken him in after the fire and served as a parent when he had none - his uncle was absent, a dandy who flitted about society all through Derek's education and even now, when both were grown men past their majority, they had little in common to converse about.
"So Dasset informed me," Derek said calmly. "How do you do, sir?"
He shook hands with the diplomat and drew up a chair to form a triangle between the two couches, the one inhabited by his aunt, and the other by Sir Noah, sitting so he faced both.
Lady Ombersley was fussing with her vinaigrette and her handkerchief in a way that let Derek know that she was up to something that she thought that he would disapprove of. The truth was Derek rarely found fault with his aunt and adored her - in his stiff distant way - but she acted just like Serena when she was about to be revealed as the perpetrator of some scheme or another upon the family nurse, Addy. "Derek, you remember Mischief, your young cousin?"
"Sir Noah's young son," Derek said, remembering a child of about Amy's age with hair cropped to the scalp and one front tooth longer than the other as he went through a growth spurt, "I must remind you, dear aunt Dolly, that he is no relation of mine, though we have certainly been raised as family. Sir Noah, I hope he is well."
"Stiles, he's fine, constitution of a draught horse that boy, never a day's illness apart from that terrible trouble with measles," Sir Noah said, "but you are going to see him soon, your aunt has agreed to take care of him whilst I am in Brazil."
The stark honesty for which Sir Noah was known was not the method that Lady Ombersley might have chosen to inform her nephew of the news, and she opened her vinaigrette and took a deep breath almost like an old soak with a new bottle of wine. "It is not quite decided yet," she stammered. "I am sure I would quite like it, you know how I miss my sister and it would be so pleasant for Malia to have someone her age that might talk her out of her foolish infatuation with McCall, they are nearly the same age." She was babbling and she knew it. She was not a strong woman, not like Claudia had been, and having two dominant alphas seeming to be moments away from insults made her desperately uncomfortable.
"Brazil?" Derek asked, "It does seem a little outside of your purview. Is it as part of your diplomatic duties, sir? Will you be making a long stay there?"
"Oh no," Sir Noah said, "but you know how it is, it might have been another if they spoke Spanish like we expect of the South Americas, but it is Portuguese and it is a language with which I am most confident. I have been telling your aunt just how much I shall be in her debt if she could help me find a suitable suitor for my Stiles. He is of an age where he should be married, and your aunt did so well with Natalia I could not think who better to look after my boy. I understand I have congratulations to offer you as well."
Lady Ombersley was not so slow of wit not to notice that Sir Noah did not in fact offer congratulations to Derek, and Derek clearly noticed it too.
"Thank you, yes," Derek answered.
"If you should not disapprove, Derek," Lady Ombersley started, "I would much like to have Stiles here."
Derek pursed his lips and let out a deep breath through his nose, "I beg, madam, that you do as you wish, this is your house and I do not see what business it is of mine. You certainly do not need my permission to fawn on your relations."
"I have told Sir Noah," she continued, "that this will be a very quiet season and we lead quiet lives now."
Sir Noah laughed, "Stiles won't care a fig for that, he's a good little thing, never at a loss for something to amuse himself if entertainments are provided, and I would take him to Brazil if he were not so insufferable when bored and I would need a second boat just for books to get him through the journey. As happy in Dubrovnik as he was in Vienna amongst the imperial set, he was considered most delightful when I took him to Brussels last year."
The vinaigrette did not seem to contain enough scent for Lady Ombersley's poor nerves, "Do not tell me you took him to Brussels, Noah."
"Of course I did," Sir Noah said, "where the devil else should he have been? You wouldn't have had me leave him in Vienna with the imperials; it was an excellent educational experience for him, he hosted for a great many old friends there."
"But the danger," she continued.
"With Wellington in command, must I burn some feathers for you, Dolly? it was the safest place in the world there in Brussels."
"We must hope," Derek said, "that after the whirlwind and glamour of the continent that Stiles," he used the name that Sir Noah used, "does not find London too drab."
"Stiles is excellent at amusing himself, why he only has to be in a room for five minutes before he has entrenched himself in every scheme one could think of. I've always given him the head, he never comes to any harm or causes mischief he can't get out of. Don't know when he'll show, he's bound to want to linger next to me until the boat leaves, but he can post up to London as soon as I've sailed."
If Lady Ombersley had been standing, she might have swooned at that news. "Post up to London?" she asked, "Surely you can't expect a young omega to travel to London on the post alone."
"Who said he'd be alone? He'll have Miss Finch, a dragon of a woman that I would not cross, and Robert Finstock, his groom, although that man is more of his man of business, general factotum, been with Stiles for years, he has, crazy as a coot but excellent at his job. They took care of Stiles as a baby and won't let him come to harm. Now that everything is settled, Dolly, I must be off, I have half of London to call on today it seems and I hope to be halfway to Bristol by supper. You must set Stiles up, give him his own household to run, it's important because," he looked at the mantle clock. "Oh he can explain it all when he gets here."
Lady Ombersley started. "But Noah, could you not dine with us, my dear P will certainly,"
"No time, Dolly," he answered, "I have an appointment at Carlton House for high tea, you can certainly mention it to Peter, and I shall catch him at some point or another."
He stood up, smoothing out his white vest and leaning in to kiss her on the forehead, patted her shoulder, much in the way that the head groom in Leicester patted the flanks of the hounds to show his approval, and took himself off with the intent to catch Dasset as he was not entirely sure what he had done with his gloves.
"And if it was not enough," Lady Ombersley said, "I have no idea when to expect the child."
"It does not matter," Derek reassured her, it was a specific kind of indifference that he used that he was unaware increased her anxiety, for if he had known he might have tried to avoid it, "you will have a room dressed for him, I suppose, so that when he does get here everything is in place to greet him felicitously. It's to be hoped that he and Malia shall get along, since she will be the one most expected to entertain him."
"Poor thing," Lady Ombersley said and Derek was unsure if she meant her daughter or nephew. "I declare I have wanted to mother him since we lost dear Claudia, he must have lived such a lonely life with no mother to watch over him."
"He has been acting as host for his father for years," Derek said, "I doubt he has been lonely, but without some good parent to guide his growth. Taking the boy to Brussels of all places, he does seem most unsuited to raising an omega within traditional mores. I do hope you will not come to regret this kindness, aunt Dolly."
"Kindness should never be regretted, Derek," she said, "for if someone manipulates you they are the villain are they not, and Stiles was always such an affectionate child. Do you not remember that first summer that you came to us? He was there with Sir Noah for a whole month, and he will make a fine companion for Malia."
"I hope so," Derek said. "Have you seen, that puppy has sent her flowers, barely a nosegay or buttonhole, and there was some billet doux wrapped around them. I told Dasset to put the flowers in water, but here," he offered his aunt the note which she took in her hand along with her vinaigrette, crucifix necklace and her handkerchief. "I doubt that there is anything of value in it, you should chuck it in the fire."
"But Derek," she protested, "what if it is the only copy of this poem?"
"Then the world will be done a favour with its destruction," Derek said stiffly. "One would think that a diplomat's secretary with a university education could spell nymph but despite attaching that appellation to Malia he has misspelt it."
"He's not stupid," Lady Ombersley said, "he knows a great deal about"
"Poetry," Derek said. "Bad poetry. He knows it well enough to ape it and still misspell the core words of his labour."
The note in question read “nimph, when thy mild euclase gaze Upon my restless dreams casts its beam." After that, even Lady Ombersley had to admit it was rather poorly written, especially as Malia's eyes were brown and not blue.
"His mother is such a dear friend of mine," Lady Ombersley offered, "surely allowing them a friendship," she was silenced by Derek's gaze, which was, it should be noted, much closer to what McCall's poem described as a cast of blueish green. "Perhaps he wishes to have it printed?"
"He is not going to publish any guff about a cousin of mine, and you should be thinking that too. Shakespeare's dark lady was only allowed the laxity of propriety because Shakespeare was a skilled poet. McCall is not." Lady Ombersley had to agree the boy was not skilled but he was so handsome. He had gone to Brussels as a secretary with a face full of acne and lank black hair. He came back a Corinthian with clear skin, a fixed attention that was indeed quite heady, and olive skin tanned brown, giving him the look of a toreador or other Spanish hero. When he spoke to someone, his whole world was upon them, small as it might have been, but offering a heady sense of appreciation that many had come to clamour after since his return.
Derek went to take the letter back and stepped up towards the fire, which had been crackling away in the gate and had aided Lady Ombersley towards the most pleasant nap that her brother-in-law had quite ruined.
"Derek, please don't!" said a quiet voice from the doorway, and Derek turned to see his young cousin, Malia, in a housecoat and slippers, being between the clothes worn for calling and the finer clothes for dining. Her hand was held out as if she expected violence and was determined to protect the letter.