objections were not worth the effort. Sebastian finished his admonishments with a warning that Edward not fall into the duns again.
“I little see how I shall avoid that,” Edward replied, “if you withhold the blunt!”
“Dearest,” said their mama to her elder son, “Are you indeed allowing dear Edward’s pockets to be turned out? That looks shabby for an Arundell, my dear.”
“He has only himself to thank,” Sebastian returned. “I’ve warned him more times than I care to recall, not to conscript my carriage to carry out his cork-brained schemes without my consent.”
“If I hadn’t borrowed your curricle, Mama would lack a companion, for Miss Fanshawe wouldn’t be here!”
“What was that?” asked the mama. “About Miss Fanshawe?”
“I brought her!” cried Edward gloatingly. “Not Sebastian. And for this, he persecutes me!” Sebastian eyed his brother with cool disdain. He wasn’t about to attempt an explanation of the whole situation to their mama, and only nodded, with a congratulatory smirk at Edward when Mrs. Arundell went into a rapture of his defense, exclaiming that Sebastian was too hard on him and must not exact the slightest punishment, for she was that grateful to have Miss Fanshawe.
Frannie sat guiltily by, blushing, and would not meet Sebastian’s eyes. But he declared he would come to a compromise with Edward, a settlement that seemed to satisfy Mrs. Arundell. Conversation then turned to the matter of a coming ball on Thursday evening.
“Since I will now accept the invitation, Beau, because I have a companion to help me,”—she stopped and smiled benignly upon Frannie—“you will, of course, accompany me.”
Sebastian glanced at Frannie, who hurriedly looked away. She’d been admiring him furtively, still rather in awe of the high good looks that a simple pair of spectacles hid so well. His manner of dress was not meticulously fashionable like Edward’s, but he exuded a far greater air of consequence and masculine presence, surprising for one she at first took for a bookish scholar.
He cleared his throat, returning his attention to his mother. “This reminds me. I’ve had a letter from Sir Hugo.” He paused, giving his mama the opportunity to exclaim her utter astonishment that Sir Hugo had sent a communiqué of any sort to his heir, but she merely regarded him with curious expectation. Casting a keen look her way, he said, “He has accepted the invitation to that ball; he will shortly arrive in town; and begs the honour of giving you his escort.”
Now Mrs. Arundell reacted as expected. Looking fairly amazed she cried, “Sir Hugo in London? What is that man about? He never comes to town!”
“The passing of his father must have something to do with it,” offered Sebastian. “Perhaps Sir Malcolm required his presence until now; he would not be the first son to suffer an overbearing sire. Now that he’s the Baronet of Bartlett Hall, and his own man—.”
“Sir Malcolm was overbearing, indeed; and crotchety, to be sure, or we might be more familiar with Bartlett Hall. He was severe upon poor Hugo, his only son; but he never cared a fig to know you boys. I daresay he thought of us as poor relations—”
“Mama! We are nothing of the sort!” replied Sebastian.
“No, of course not; but I never felt the slightest compulsion to encourage a better understanding between our families for I did not wish to subject you to his temperamental ways.” She gave Sebastian a wide-eyed look. “It is all very well if Sir Hugo now wishes to become part of society. But to presume that I have not already accepted an escort! He is quite disagreeable in it!”
“He no doubt assumed what is most often true: that I would escort you. And he knows I should willingly allow him the honour in my place as he is rightly entitled to it, Mama. He is my elder in the family, my superior, not to mention, your cousin-in-law.”
“How could he possibly know that you would accompany me!” she said scornfully.
Sebastian gave a little smile. “I am sure he reads the society columns.”
But she shook her head dismissively. “In any case, really, Beau, you know better than to ask.”
Sebastian placed his fork down and gave his mother a piercing look. “I am his heir; he is my uncle.”
“He isnʼt your uncle really; he is your fatherʼs cousin, which makes him your first cousin once removed.”
“True,” said Sebastian, “But have we not always referred to him as my uncle?”
“Because he is older, dearest. And who wants to keep saying your cousin once removed?”
“There is