Chapter Two
Mr. John Butler, only remaining son of Baron Westfield, couldn’t believe the boon he’d been given of Miss Storme popping back into his life. When he’d last seen her at that Christmastide house party the previous December, they had also met under extenuating circumstances. She’d needed help then just as she had now, and he’d been fortunate enough to provide it twice.
Like the other time, he had the sense she was on the verge of doing great things if only someone would give her half the chance.
A sigh from Caroline at his side as they entered the house ramped his protective instincts, for a din of chaos erupted from somewhere along the corridor—a study most likely. The Earl of Hadleigh’s voice was raised, not in anger, but at a volume he probably used when excited about something. While John and Caroline gave the butler their dripping outer things, the earl exited a room down the hall, quickly followed by another, smaller man who was no doubt his man-of-affairs, if the armful of paperwork and ledgers was any indication.
“And make certain everyone on the committee knows of the changes,” Hadleigh said from over his shoulder. “This could very well have fantastic implications for us all.”
“Of course, Your Lordship,” the other man said with a nod. “I’ll submit your proposal to the printer this afternoon.” Then he scuttled past John, who looked at him with a faint grin. There was always something going on in the Storme family.
He glanced at Caroline. Her hair had mostly tumbled from its pins. The heavy dark brown mass fell down her back in long curls. It softened her face and made her appear less severe. “Is this the climate you live in all the time?”
“Yes.” She shook her head. A damp curl fell over her forehead. “Loud. Always. My painting interrupts.”
“Ah.” John frowned. Though she had some difficulty speaking words or phrases in the correct order, it wasn’t bad enough that he couldn’t understand her, and she certainly shouldn’t be berated or corrected for it. Perhaps her brain and higher consciousness had more important things to do than concentrate on speech. He’d seen a few of her sketches at Christmastide to know she was near a genius in that regard. And Brand had told him she could play the pianoforte with such talent that she only needed to look at sheet music once to memorize it.
Would that he were fortunate to bear witness to that.
Then Hadleigh was upon them, his frown fierce. For the moment, he ignored John to focus on his cousin. “Caroline, where have you been? We’ve been worried sick that something untoward had occurred when the carriage came back empty.”
A huff of annoyance escaped from her. “I wanted to Hyde Park walk alone.” A pink flush rose into her cheeks. “Was confused in the rain.” She gestured to him. “John was there.”
Hadleigh’s eyes widened. “Is that why you wished to visit the park? You had an assignation?” His voice rose with each question.
“Good God, man, of course not,” John interrupted. “I was simply there at the same time and had no idea she would be too.” He gave her a reassuring grin. “However, it was pure good fortune that I was, for she became turned around and panicked. I escorted her home without incident. No need to come the crab.”
A snicker issued from Caroline while Hadleigh’s face took on the appearance of a summer thunderstorm. Once more he dismissed John. “I should never have let you convince me going out of the house was a good idea.” The earl shook his head. “You simply aren’t meant to go it alone, Cousin. Though you are a woman grown, next time, you’ll have an escort. No more arguments. You’re much safer here.”
As if she were an oddity or monster who needed a keeper. Or too complicated that the best course was to shut her away. It was unfair. And quite harsh. John narrowed his eyes when disappointment shadowed her eyes. Hadleigh apparently wished to keep her tucked away without trying to understand her or let her spread her wings to discover who she was outside of the stifling confines of the Storme connection.
“Actually, Lord Hadleigh, Caroline is quite intelligent. Give her the benefit of the doubt. Let her learn as she interacts with the world around her.”
“You know nothing about it.” The earl stared him down.
A flash of color tugged John’s attention away. Caroline had wandered down the corridor toward the grand staircase. Had she tired of the scene or of his presence? He didn’t know but he did wish to tell her goodbye and let her know he’d enjoyed their brief outing. By the time he focused upon the earl, annoyance roiled in Hadleigh’s stormy eyes, but John stood his ground.
“Mr. Butler, I would appreciate it if you would attend me when I’m speaking to you.”
“Then perhaps you should say something worth hearing.” As a mottled red color crept up the earl’s face, John sighed and tamped down the urge to roll his eyes. Such dramatics. Brand had been quite correct when he said his older brother was often over the top. “I beg your pardon, Lord Hadleigh, but I’m still concerned about Caroline, er, Miss Storme. Might I see that she’s properly settled before I leave?”
“My cousin is not your responsibility.”
“I never said she was, and by that way of thinking, a woman should never be considered a responsibility to begin with. She is not something one owns or has an obligation to, and she certainly shouldn’t be kept as an oddity or a china doll.”
The corner of the earl’s right eye twitched. He crossed his arms at his chest and glared. “She is, and my word is final.”
Spare me the arrogance.
This was why he missed the simple life he had in Ipswich. Every time he came back to London and added members of the ton to his interactions, his patience was tried, and a foul taste lingered in his mouth. Truly, he had no use for such people. “It seems I must beg your pardon again, but I suspect she is not. Miss Storme is her own person, and she’s largely been ignored here.” He didn’t know that for a fact, but from everything he’d heard and seen, now and during that Christmastide house party, the behavior pointed to it.
“Enough!” The earl’s face turned an alarming shade of reddish-purple, but before he could explode, the sound of a female’s voice floated down to their location.
“Andrew, dear, remember your breathing exercises, and if we have a guest, please bring them up to the drawing room. I fancy socializing a bit.”
Ah, that must be the countess. John stared at the earl with a faint grin. When Hadleigh’s shoulders drooped and his color returned to normal, he sighed, followed that with a few deep breaths.
“Please, join Lady Hadleigh and me in the drawing room so we might discuss this calmly and rationally.”