Code of Honor (11 page)

Her eyes clouded with concern, "No, I shall leave it to Henry to chide you over the amount of brandy you have been consuming and the... other activities. What I care about is you finding some sort of happiness, Sebastian, and I can't believe that what you are doing to yourself will be of any help."

The earl's mouth tightened.

She saw it, but went on regardless. "You have always loved Riverton. You should make it your home, not waste your time... "

"Ah, and how would you have me do that? Would you prefer that I leg-shackle myself to some young lady on the Marriage Mart anxious for a title and fortune?" he asked with a touch of bitterness." I am well aware of what it expected of me. Are you too going to tell me that it is time to set up my nursery?

"No. And certainly some girl fresh from the schoolroom would not be at all right for you, but..." She sighed. "Is there no one you care for?"

He stiffened perceptibly and his arm came down from its casual position on the back of the sofa. "Cecelia, let us drop this now, if you please."

Lady Ashton patted his hand. "Very well."

She was smart enough to know when to pull back from a frontal assault.

The tea tray arrived and she poured them both a cup.

"I didn't realize you had developed such an interest in botany," she remarked as she offered him a plate of assorted cakes.

He declined.

"I understand you drove Miss Chilton to Kew Gardens," she continued with an innocent air, taking two of the pastries herself. "Henry took me last week. The new specimens are marvelous, are they not?"

"Quite." There was a hint of suspicion in Branford's eyes at the direction in which Lady Ashton was marshaling the conversation.

"I imagine Miss Chilton found them fascinating as well. I understand she is an artist with an interest in...."

The conversation turned to plants and the exhibition. Despite his initial reluctance, he found himself discussing the various things they had seen and describing Miss Chilton's reactions. He was even led to admit that he had enjoyed the outing more than he had expected.

Lady Ashton polished off her cakes. Then she guided the conversation back to the topic she really wanted to discuss. "You know, I find Miss Chilton extremely interesting."

She gave Branford no time to comment. "It is rare that one can actually have an intelligent conversation during all those tedious afternoon visits and teas and — you men wouldn't know about such things, though Henry does say that some of the gentlemen at your clubs can be dead bores."

That drew a smile from Branford.

"Anyway, it has been pleasant to have an exchange with someone who has an opinion on something rather than just proses on about the weather or the refreshments at the last ball or whether a certain lady looks well in red."

"She does have an opinion on things," agreed Branford.

"Well, I look forward to getting to know her better."

Satisfied that her objectives had been achieved by making an oblique foray, she withdrew for the day. Picking up a silver bell on the table, she rang for the butler.

"Now that we have had our little chat I know Henry is looking forward to join us for tea,"

Branford took a sip from his cup. His soldier's instincts were telling him something. He wasn't quite sure how, but he had the distinct feeling that Lady Ashton had managed to outflank him.

Two shots rang out.

The grizzled man scratched at the stubble on his jaw and gave a low whistle. "That be as nice a piece of shooting as I've seen in a while, guv."

Branford allowed himself a slight smile. A low murmur ran through a small group of onlookers, some of whom were bold enough to nod in appreciation at the sight of the two wildly moving targets shattered within seconds of each other.

"Thank you, Lizard. From you, high praise indeed."

The earl slowly lowered the two pistols, savoring the exquisite balance of the deadly looking weapons. He turned to where an ebony box inlaid with brass lay open, revealing a interior of deep forest velvet. After running a piece of chamois over the burled walnut and polished steel barrels, he placed the pistols in their compartments and snapped the lid shut. The gentlemen lounging around the area parted with alacrity as Branford strolled away, Lizard at his shoulder.

"Young pup you sent over ain't half bad. Raw, but willing ta learn, which is more ‘n one can say about most of them's of quality." He jerked his head towards where Justin Chilton was facing a set-up of stationary targets. "I sent Jasper over to give him a few pointers."

Branford left off putting on his jacket and watched for a few moments.

Justin reloaded and squeezed off a shot. It caught the paper target, but wide left of the small circle at the center.

"Has Jasper remarked on your stance?"

The young man turned quickly, a look of surprise on his face.

"Try a little more weight on your left foot, then open your right side a touch."

Justin took up his position and Jasper handed him the reloaded gun. This time the bullet was much closer to the mark, though still off-center.

"And relax your hand — you are not strangling a chicken," remarked Branford dryly. He stepped forward. "Here, let me see the pistol."

Justin handed it to him with a slight hesitation. It was at least twenty years old and heavy as a lump of coal. The barrel was pitted from the elements, and as he sighted down the barrel, he could only imagine what the rifling inside looked like. Though someone had recently gone to great pains to bring the gun up to snuff, it was a wonder the thing actually fired, much less hit anything. Branford moved it around in the air, as if testing its balance. Then he laid it aside.

"Try this." He motioned for Lizard to bring his case, then removed one of his own pistols from the soft folds of velvet. He loaded it with practiced ease and handed it to Justin. The young man took it gingerly, eyeing its craftsmanship and obvious quality with something akin to awe.

Branford gestured at the target.

Justin swallowed, then turned and took aim, careful to follow all of the advice the earl had just given him. With the slightest of pressure on the trigger, he fired a shot.

"Dead center," grinned Jasper as he consulted the target. "Yer Lordship will be putting me poor self outta a job."

The staff at Manton's treated the earl with an obvious respect, but showed no fear in engaging in easy banter with him.

The corners of Branford's mouth twitched slightly.

Justin fingered the polished wood and chaised silver longingly before handed the weapon back to the earl. "Thank you, sir. I'm... I'm grateful for your pointers — and for the chance to use such a fine piece." His eyes unconsciously followed the pistol's progress back into its case.

Branford nodded. He handed the other gun back to Justin, who grimaced slightly at its awkward weight.

"Yours?" asked the earl.

The young man colored slightly and raised his chin — a gesture Branford was becoming well used to. The earl felt a twinge of sympathy for Justin's embarrassment. He remembered well enough what it was like to be short of funds but have a surfeit of youthful pride.

"It belonged to my father," replied Justin stiffly. "I haven't... purchased one of my own yet."

"There is no shame in lacking blunt, Chilton. And no need to act as if there is," murmured Branford, in a voice low enough that only Justin could hear. Then, in a louder tone he added. "Jasper, see to it that Mr. Chilton shoots with a decent gun on his next visit. Good day."

Before Justin could utter any further words, he was already staring at the earl's back. He shook his head slightly, perplexed. His good friend, Frederick Hartley, had witnessed the encounter and rushed over to his, eyes wide with astonishment.

"Good lord, Justin. The Icy Earl actually spoke to you!" Hartley's voice was tinged with awe." And not only that — he offered you one of his matched pair!"

"Ain't never seen the likes o' that," said Jasper, shooting Justin an appraising look. "Nope. Ain't never seen him offer one o' his barking irons to nobody."

The two young men gathered their things and made to leave.

"Thursday at one, Mr. Chilton," added Jasper.

Justin nodded, then he and Hartley walked off, drawing not a few interested glances.

"I didn't know you were acquaintances," persisted Hartley, as they walked towards his phaeton.

"Hardly at all. That is, he... he is a friend of Alex," mumbled Justin." They share a mutual interest in botany, " he added quickly, lest Hartley get the wrong idea.

Disregarding Justin's disavowal, Hartley looked at him with newfound respect. "Wait until Stanford and Yorkhill hear about this! They'll be green with envy that they missed it."

Justin colored slightly. "It's nothing to make a fuss over, really, Freddy. I daresay he was merely..."

Merely what? Justin found he had no idea. Somehow the idea that the earl was trying to cozen up to him was absurd — but equally absurd was the idea that he was acting

in... friendship.

"I say," exclaimed Hartley, taking no notice that Justin's voice had trailed off. "The others will be most impressed — egad! I nearly forgot!" He hastily consulted his gold pocketwatch. "I am supposed to attend on my grandmother at one, without fail." His face took on a pained expression. "She is having guests — including a chit of marriageable age, no doubt. But as she grants me a most generous allowance, I must do my duty. I fear it means abandoning you here. "

Justin laughed. "You go on. It is a pleasant day. I shall walk."

Indeed, he was still new enough to Town to find the streets fascinating. A myriad of sights, smells and sounds overwhelmed his senses — the cries of a costermonger, the pungent yeastiness of a spilled keg of ale, the smart carriages with matched teams jostling with dray carts. He was so lost in his observations that it took a second greeting to catch his attention.

"Mr. Chilton."

Justin's head snapped up. "I beg your pardon. I fear I was woolgathering."

"So it seems." There was a faint smile on Branford's face as he controlled his spirited team with careless ease. Do you go on to Half Moon Street? I am passing by there if you care to climb up."

Justin hesitated.

The horses danced with impatience.

"They are getting cold while you ponder the offer. If you prefer to walk..." He made as if to give the team its head.

Realizing how rude he was appearing, Justin quickly made his decision.

"Thank you, sir," he said as he climbed up beside the earl.

Branford flicked the whip and they were off.

They rode in silence for a bit, with Justin casting surreptitious looks to observe just how the earl handled the ribbons. After all, it wasn't every day that he had the chance to ride with a Nonpareil, a member of the Four In Hand Club, and he was determined to learn any little trick he could.

Branford suppressed a smile at the young man's obvious interest and smartly guided the team around a number of slower moving conveyances, displaying a number of skillful moves with the whip and reins. It gave him an odd twinge as he recalled how his young cousin had sat with him, showing much the same rapt attention as Alex's brother. Yet he found that he was rather enjoying himself — he had to admit it was nice to see admiration rather than fear in another's eye.