Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,86

bounder, eyed her bosom while he interrogated her about her acquaintances in town.

From this distance, her murmured replies sounded calm, almost bored.

She’d hidden away the warm, feeling, lively woman. What a pity she felt she must act out a role in his family home all to secure a means of traveling to London.

“You’re very quiet, Mr. Lovelace,” Miss Cartwright said.

“He’s ignoring your attempts at conversation.” Nancy smirked at him.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Cartwright.”

“The snowball fight knocked the stuffing out of you I heard.” Nancy giggled. “It was so unfair you didn’t invite us.”

“What is this about a snowball fight?” Cartwright called, proof the man was doing his own bit of eavesdropping.

Cartwright glanced at Sophie. “Is that where you’d both come from?”

Sophie smiled at her half-empty plate. “One has to make the best of a snowy day.”

Cartwright glanced at her and then down the table at George. “You engaged Lady Glanford in a snowball fight?”

Mother laughed. “George would never attack a lady. They were walking back from the village when they were set upon. I do hope there are no stuffed-up noses and sore throats in the nursery.”

“Your younger sons were involved, my lady?” Cartwright directed the question to Mother.

“Yes.”

“They sound like a jolly lot.” He put down his fork.

“And you will meet them tonight.” Mother stood, bringing everyone to their feet. “The ladies and I will enjoy our dessert in the drawing room where the children will join us. Mr. Cartwright, George you may remain here, if you wish.”

Remaining behind would only embroil him in a conversation with Cartwright and delay his business in the study. “Let’s go along, Cartwright. You can’t top this bunch for jolliness. I’ll bring the bottle of port.”

“Do come, Papa,” Charlotte said.

“Very well.” Cartwright pushed back his chair. “And perhaps you and I can chat, Lovelace.”

He swallowed his annoyance and said, “Of course.”

In the drawing room, servants carried in trays. George led Lovelace to a gaming table and poured their drinks.

“I’ve heard tell you’re building a railway, Lovelace.”

George eyed him over the rim of his glass. Their plans weren’t exactly confidential—certainly wouldn’t be when Parliament got involved, but his corporation wasn’t the only group seeking to build. Cartwright might be part of a budding competition.

While he picked over how much information to reveal, the nursery crew arrived and headed for the sweets.

“What is your interest?” George asked.

Cartwright smiled, then laughed. “Same as yours. Making money. Vulgar to say, perhaps, but there it is.”

“George.” Mother shooed the children toward him. “Make introductions please.”

Cartwright’s mouth dropped open. “Four younger brothers?”

“No. Those two are my brothers James and Edward.” George rested one hand on Arthur’s shoulder and the other atop Ben’s head. “And this is Arthur, Lord Glanford, and his brother, Ben.”

A maid brought over a tray with an assortment of sweets and hurried off.

Cartwright patted his stomach. “After that excellent dinner, I’ll wait. Dive in, young ones.”

James and Edward snatched up treats and hurried away. Arthur helped his young brother with a plate, then filled his own and turned to go.

“It’s no wonder Charlotte is happy here. Generous of your mother to host her and Lady Glanford, as well. A pity Glanford was such a wastrel.”

Arthur’s thin shoulders froze. He turned around, back straight, plate tilting and threatening to lose its sweets.

“Sir.” He pinned the older man with a glare. “That is my father you’re speaking of.”

Cartwright’s eyes glinted with keen interest.

Color rose in the boy’s cheeks and his eyes—so like his mother’s—darkened. “We don’t speak ill of him, nor do we countenance others doing so.”

George let out a breath, watching the duel. He could imagine those words coming from Sophie’s mouth, and with the same expression of dignified ire.

Cartwright held the boy’s gaze a long moment, then dipped his head. “Quite right,” he said evenly. “The good book tells us: Honor thy father and thy mother. Keep to the good book and you’ll grow into a good man, and a good earl, as well.” He extended his hand. “Accept my apologies?”

Arthur shook his hand and ran off.

Perhaps he could do business with Cartwright. As Sophie had pointed out, a project like theirs could never have too much money.

“Well, well,” Cartwright mused. “Defending his father’s honor, no matter how thinly it was spread. I’d wager that’s his mother’s doing. Clark always valued loyalty. He’d be proud. Seems his daughter has become the true lady he always wanted her to be.”

The lady in question was ruffling through song sheets at the pianoforte. She hadn’t witnessed the scene.

“A