“A man can look, can’t he?” Alex waggled his eyebrows in a distinctly lascivious fashion. “Admire beauty in all its manifestations?”
“Especially when the chit has two very lovely manifestations almost leaping from her gown.”
“Especially then.”
David laughed. “Behave yourself, uncle.”
Alex scowled. “I am sick to death of behaving myself. I haven’t been to Town in over twenty years. If I choose to celebrate with a little misbehavior, who the hell will care?”
“Surely you don’t intend to take after my disreputable father at this late date?” David hoped the alarm he felt wasn’t reflected in his voice.
“Perhaps I will. Luke’s life may have been short, but it was intense. He knew what he wanted and he took it.”
“But—”
“Mr. Wilton! Oh, Mr. Wilton! I say, can it really be you?”
“Wha—?” They both turned. An elderly woman with a cane and elaborately powdered hair was hobbling toward them as quickly as she could.
“Oh, God,” Alex muttered. “Lady Leighton. I thought she’d been put to bed with a shovel.”
David bit back a laugh. “She looks very much alive—and delighted to see you.”
“God only knows why.”
Lady Leighton grabbed Alex’s arm as soon she got close enough. “About time you came back to Town, Mr. Wilton. It’s been so long, I hardly recognized you.”
“Ah.”
David turned his laugh into a cough. Poor Uncle Alex was apparently rendered speechless by Lady Leighton’s enthusiasm.
The lady frowned and turned her grip into a pat. “I want to tell you I was so sorry to hear of your parents’ passing.”
A muscle jumped in Alex’s cheek. Bloody hell. This time David was certain what he saw in his uncle’s eyes—that stricken, bleak look was sadly all too familiar. When would Alex realize he was not responsible for Grandda’s and Grandmamma’s deaths?
David cleared his throat.
Lady Leighton turned her attention to him. “And who might this be?” She put up a hand as David opened his mouth to reply. “No, don’t tell me—the resemblance is too great. Lord Dawson, correct?”
Damn. Was everyone going to see his ignoble father in his face? That was a trial he’d not anticipated when he’d mentally listed all the reasons not to come to Town. He inclined his head as unenthusiastically as he could manage. Perhaps the woman would take the hint and drop the subject.
No such luck. Lady Leighton thumped her cane on the floor. “Just as I thought. Luke’s son. Does everyone tell you you’re very like your father, my lord?”
David’s stomach clenched. No, thank God. “I’ve been told I resemble him physically.” He had tried his entire life to ensure that was the only way he resembled the man.
“Ah.” She nodded. “Not a scapegrace, eh? Well, for all his faults, Luke Wilton was charming.” She shook her head, sending a flurry of hair powder drifting down to her ample bosom. “Such a senseless tragedy.”
She looked back at Alex. “And such a tragedy Standen insisted on thrusting a spoke in your wheel all those years later, Mr. Wilton. I hope this visit to Town means you’ve finally got over your disappointment? It’s not too late to find a nice girl and start your nursery, you know. You can’t be much above forty.”
“Ah. Er.”
She patted his arm again. “It is time to get on with your life, sir. Past time. Some woman will have you—you’ll see.” She turned back to David. “And are you in London to go shopping on the Marriage Mart as well, my lord? Very good. I like a man who recognizes his duty and gets down to business.” She laughed. “Should I wager which of you will be the first to produce an heir?”
“Ah.” It was David’s turn to be less than coherent.
“I don’t need to tell you—” she said.
He and Alex both shook their heads.
“—but—” Blessedly, Lady Leighton stopped and waved at someone. “Oh, there’s Mrs. Fallwell. I have something of a very particular nature to say to her. I hope you don’t mind if I run off?”
“No, please—” Alex said.
“Don’t let us keep you.” David said.
“Well, then.” Lady Leighton squeezed both their arms. “Good luck with the ladies, my dear fellows,” she said before she toddled off to accost Mrs. Fallwell.
“Thank God.” They looked at each other and laughed.
“I never thought I’d be grateful for Mrs. Fallwell’s presence on this planet.” Alex took another long swallow of champagne. “She’s a gabble-grinder of the first order, you know.”
“Hmm.” David studied his uncle. “What did Lady Leighton mean about your ‘disappointment’? About Standen putting a spoke in your wheel?”
Alex’s ears turned red. “I have no idea.” He gulped the rest of his champagne and grabbed another glass from a passing footman.
“Is there something you haven’t told me?”
“I can’t think of anything.” Alex stared into his champagne glass.
Why wouldn’t his uncle meet his eyes? “Lady Leighton seemed quite—Damn!”
“Damn?” That made Alex look up.
“Yes. The Addison twins are here.” David glanced around, looking for a suitable hiding place.
Alex gave a low whistle. “So they’ve tracked you all the way to London. Very impressive.” He chuckled. “I’d say one of the Misses Addison plans to bag herself a baron.”
“Not this baron.” Those palms might conceal him. And look—a splendidly stout pillar as well.
“Don’t be so certain. You’d best tread carefully if you don’t want to stumble into parson’s mousetrap.”
David didn’t bother to reply, he was too busy putting as many barriers as he could between himself and the Addisons. There was nothing so terribly wrong with the girls, besides the fact that he’d known them since they were in leading strings. Some man would be delighted to wed one of them, but not he. He couldn’t tell them apart for one thing. Confuse his wife with her sister? That would be exceedingly awkward. And they were both far too scraggy.
He peeked around the pillar. They hadn’t seen him, thank God. He watched their bony backsides move past. It was not an inspiring sight.
Were all young women today small and angular? Surely not! There must be some female who would be a good match for a man his size. He was built on a different scale than the usual, just like Grandda had been—and Grandda had found Grandmamma.
Ah. He closed his eyes. He still felt a heavy melancholy when he thought of them, but at least now it was only a dull ache and not the overwhelming, almost physical pain it had been. True, they had both been over seventy, but they’d still been healthy, vigorous, more alive than many people half their age—until their blasted carriage had slid into the big oak at the bottom of the hill between Clifton Hall, Alex’s estate, and Riverview.
They should have stayed the night with Alex. Alex had urged them to. It was dark and rainy. But Grandda was as stubborn as a mule—Grandmamma, too—and they both liked to sleep in their own bed.
And now they were both dead.
Life was indeed fragile—a gift that could be taken back at any moment. He must wed—and bed—someone soon.