“I’d be delighted to join the dinner,” Mark repeated. “It will give us time to catch up.”
“Rumor has it you’re no longer a part of the Royal Navy.”Mr. Hanson leaned back and stuck his hands in his waistcoat pockets, looking Mark over. “You look well.”
Well, bugger.She should’ve been the first to hear, she deserved that as his wife. He thought that going from port to the country would have slipped under society gossip’s attention. “Nearly a month now. I’ve spent almost all of the past eight years on a ship, so it’s good to get my land legs back.” Steeling himself, Mark flashed an easy grin. He and his father-in-law had always gotten along well. They were men of business, interested in advancing in Society and making a name for themselves. Mark understood and respected it.
“I’m very sorry to hear the circumstances of your discharge. Your brother is strong, though. He’ll recover.”
Mark winced. “They weren’t going to let me go. It wasn’t as if Matthew died and I had inherited everything, so my superior officers wouldn’t budge at first. Thank goodness for friends in high places.” He shot a glance at Ellen, who stood nearby, arms crossed, looking like she was sucking on a lemon. While everyone in high society probably knew about the accident by now, no one but the family knew the extent of the injuries.
“The privilege of the aristocracy! Where have you been recently?” Mr. Hanson inquired.
“I was at Cottesloe, checking on Matthew. The accident happened three months ago, but it took a while for news to reach me, and then for me to be discharged.”
“I meant your ship.” Mr. Hanson rocked back on his heels, smile on his face.
“Father,” Ellen broke in, but he ignored her.
“TheHMS Black Princemostly alternated between voyages on the Atlantic and Channel work.” He darted a nervous look at Ellen. She refused to acknowledge him.
“Well!” Mr. Hanson leaned forward and clapped Mark on the shoulder. “You’ll have to share all your stories with us over supper.”
“He isn’t dressed properly,” Ellen interjected through gritted teeth. “He can’t come to dinner.”
Mark looked down at his afternoon wear: a simple brown frock coat, paisley green necktie and waistcoat, and simple walking shoes. “I’m not prepared for black tie,” he agreed.
“I’ll send a footman to your house to pick up your valet and clothes. Will that work?” Mr. Hanson raised a bushy eyebrow.
Mark hesitated. His valet was new to him, and had been Matthew’s until a few days ago. He was probably still unpacking. Or dusting. The furniture was covered in six inches of dust. More importantly, Ellen looked like she was about to crack a tooth. Yet he wanted to please his father-in-law, to start off right. “Very well. If you have a room I can freshen up in?”
“Of course.” Mr. Hanson walked to a corner of the room and yanked on a bellpull. Ellen huffed and snorted.
It was the right decision to stay, wasn’t it? Then again, he wasn’t married to Mr. Hanson, he wasn’t the one Mark had to woo back into his bed. Why was she so angry? Hadn’t she eventually agreed separation was best for both of them?
A tense moment later a footman scurried into the room.
“Sir?” The black-haired young man was still straightening his white gloves as he looked to them expectantly.
Mr. Hanson relayed his instructions, requesting Mark follow the footman upstairs to a guest room.
Nothing was going exactly to plan, but then again, it hadn’t for eight years. So Mark thanked his host and followed the footman out of the room.
“Why did you do that?” Ellen hissed, and Mark could feel her vitriol through the open door.
“He’s finally here and I’m not letting him get away,” Mr. Hanson replied.
“He should have been here eight years ago.”
Mark slowed his steps, knowing he was being childish, but curiosity overcame him.
“Better late than never,” Mr. Hanson said.
“Not in this case.” Ellen shut the door.
Mark flushed and hurried to catch up with the footman.
When Mark arrivedin the drawing room again two hours later, resplendent in a black dinner coat, white necktie and silk waistcoat, he found it full of dazzling gowns, sparkling jewels, gossiping women, and stuffy men.
Amidst the small crowd, a peach dress broke free and launched at him. “Mark, darling!”