Not My Idea (A Gentleman of Misfortune Book One (Rough Draft))

Chapter Nine

"No one will hear it from me," I said as he straightened up. My brother clapped my shoulder once before he left the room. Picking up my coffee cup, I stared at the opposite wall as I contemplated everything that had happened in the last few days.

When I had arrived in Paris, a stop I had avoided when I first set out on my Grand Tour, I had expected to be able to spend at least two months there. Instead, the letter from my father had caught up to me, and any plans for enjoying myself went out the window. A part of me selfishly wished the message had been lost on the way.

Since then, I had traveled nonstop to get home only to learn of Mama's accident. It was only for her sake I was glad I had returned. Perhaps a fresh perspective on her situation, a positive outlook, would be just what she needed to get out of bed and reclaim some of what her life used to be. I would be willing to endure anything to see that happen.

I heaved a sigh as I acknowledged it seemed I was doing just that. I not only found myself in a farce of a courtship but also of having to find some way of aiding my best friend to retrieve a ring he should have known better than to risk on a wager, security or not. Add in the disdain of my new sister-in-law, and I was faced with what was sure to be the worst month of my life.

But if I had not come, I would likely have not met Miss Darkin. Her warm smile and sparkling eyes rose in my memory. To be honest, I wished to know her better as the house party progressed.

"There you are, Luke. I've been looking for you everywhere."

Miles' voice pulled from my thoughts, and I put a grin on my face as I shifted in my chair to face him. He had changed from his riding clothes to obviously old attire. "Am I to assume you wish to go fishing?" I asked, taking a guess.

"Well, I hardly want to be obliged to remain where I would be expected to converse with Mrs. Bywood anymore than necessary." He sent a glance over his shoulder and gave an exaggerated shudder. "I thought you were being yourself when you warned me against her, but she is truly awful."

"I told you—wait. What? What do you mean you thought I was 'being myself?'"

Miles gave a nervous laugh. "Nothing. Is the tackle in the usual spot?"

"Miles! Tell me what you meant!" I sprang to my feet. He bolted from sight, and I sprinted after him in close pursuit. "Come back here!"

****

I spent the rest of the week finding ways to avoid my sister-in-law. Fortunately, I had Miles on my side in this matter, and he was up for anything as long as it took us far from Rosamund. As a result, on one day we rode over to watch a fight. To say no one was pleased with us would have been an understatement.

"I cannot believe you rode all that way to watch a fight! What appeal is there to watch two men beat each other into the ground?" Philippa said as she searched the shelves of our library. The rain, much to my regret, had kept us trapped inside. "It is completely ridiculous!"

With a chuckle, I glanced up from the letter I was writing. It was fortunate Rosamund was not of a literary bent, for she had not followed us into the library. Miles was in a chair across the room, and there was a book open in his hand. From the way his head rested in his hand, though, it was more likely that he was napping.

"I can think of a few situations that are just as, if not more, ridiculous," I said. "Take, for example, the tradition of young ladies traveling to London for a specific period, all in the pursuit of a husband."

My sister scoffed as she faced me. "No one gets hurt during the Season."

"Oh, don't they? What about the young ladies who have some misfortune occur during the Season? Perhaps they do not have the funds to be dressed in the latest style, or they do not make an impression on the patronesses of Almack's. Or the young men who are taken advantage of by those more skilled at cards. You cannot say they are not hurt."