Peter had caught him at a gentleman's club for lunch. One glance at the merchant's attire had Niall's colleges cooing that his 'Mary' was calling for him, the bloody pricks. Familiar enough with Peter's fashion sense, Niall realized he must had started early in his chasing of Phoebe at some neglected debutante's event. Something easily done when one's father was still alive to do his half of the business.
But why Peter should cut his petty chasing short was beyond Niall.
The two shared an individual table where Niall's colleges were kind enough to provide the first round of drinks from across the room. As previously mentioned, the infamous pricks. Neither made it a point to touch the mugs. Instead, Niall waited to be enlightened by what inspired Peter to call him at this time of day. The enlightenment was stalled by Peter's occupation in fidgeting in his seat and tapping his phalanges atop the polish wood.
"Well," Niall started in his stead, "This is an honor to be singled out. You are aware this is a debutante and female-of-all-kind free establishment?"
Peter frowned. "Yes, Niall. I have a membership, after all."
"You do? Well, you're hardly around any more. I could hardly remember."
"They wouldn't've allowed me through the door if I hadn't one, Niall."
"It was merely a quip, Peter. Untwist your garments and tell me what has you abusing the table."
It was possible he had heard of Phoebe's illness. Or, more specifically, Niall's involvement in Phoebe's aid. And, just like the two priority-skewed women, chose to come here for lecturing Niall of risking Phoebe's reputation rather than thank him for being a minority in representing common sense. No good deed, and all.
Peter extracted his hand, having seemed unaware of its actions. Sitting back in his seat, he placed both palms in his lap. "Yes, so, how fairs legislation?"
Niall eyed him speculatively. "As I told your father, I'm not at liberty to discuss."
"Ah, yes, that's right."
If Peter truly wished to discuss that matter, he would not had left it at that. But as an extra precaution, he asked, "Is that what you called upon me for?"
Peter beamed. "Oh, 'called'! Perfect segue!"
Niall blinked.
Peter adjusted his folded napkin. "Uh, no. I mean 'no, that's not it'. But speaking of 'called'. I've come directly from checking on the state of Miss Barrettmore's health."
"Did you now?" Niall itched his palm. "How fair she?"
"Oh, come off it. As if you care."
Niall clenched his jaw, in absolute loathing of the hypocrisy and accusation. The emotion was smoothed with reasoning that Peter's ignorance may be more valuable than correcting the erroneous statement. Niall slowly released a breath. "Well, if you strongly believe such, then what news could you possibly bring from her presence that may interest me?"
"As of," Peter squinted at the ceiling and individually flexed each phalanx to count, "an hour and some minutes ago, Miss Barrettmore accepted my offer to regularly call upon her."
Overcoming his distaste of the flavor, Niall downed the ale to keep his lips shut.
"'Call upon her'?" He swallowed out.
"Yes." The fool had teeth to his ears.
"As in 'seek her out'?"
"Yes."
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
Salvation of Ignorance
ऐतिहासिक साहित्यPhoebe has been encumbered with a task: finding a husband. Of course, it was a rather common expectation for a young woman of the early 1800s. However, Phoebe's husband-to-be had additional requirements. First, the man should be willing to give his...
