Elise lowered her gaze and chin, forcing Harold to release her. His hand fell to his side. As if released from a magic spell, she said, “I want to know if Mr. Howlington is aboveboard. Are his intentions toward Lady Isodora honorable? It’s rumored she is a bluestocking as well as a beauty. A duke’s daughter with an extremely attractive dowry.”
A wealthy, titled lady was a prime target for rogues and scoundrels. While waiting for her knight in shining armor, Elise had dealt with many unscrupulous gentlemen over the years. Men she had known since childhood had metamorphosed into gentlemen of questionable behavior. The character of a male was ever changing. Her own brother, Benedict, was a prime example. In his youth, her brother had been open-minded. Some might have even called him a radical. But over the years, and especially since their papa’s passing, his views and disposition had shifted, and now he resembled the likes of his peers. Old and stodgy. While she ruminated, Harold’s stare intensified. Why was he looking at her as if she had grown a pair of horns?
Harold crossed his arms. “Why question Mr. Howlington’s motives?”
Why wouldn’t she? Just this year past, she assisted two ladies, one from the grasp of a fortune hunter and the other from an abusive gentleman, both welcome among the ton. Thankfully, both ladies had since found caring and faithful husbands.
Elise straightened her spine and shoulders. “Because not all gentlemen of the ton should be referred to as such.”
Harold snapped to attention as if her words had slapped him. “What if I find the man’s motives are sincere?”
Elise snorted. “If you are able to ascertain that, then there will be no issue.”
“What business is it to you whether Mr. Howlington’s attentions are aboveboard?”
“I’m the daughter of a duke, as is Lady Isodora.”
Elise hadn’t meant to mention her station. It had always been a source of tension between them. The flash of hurt upon Harold’s features didn’t bring about satisfaction or remove the sting of rejection she had carried within her.
“Fine.” He headed toward the window but paused midway. “How does Kilman typically report his findings to you?”
Why did her chest ache at the mention of Kilman? The twinge was not as acute as it had been when Harold had treated her similarly, but it still existed.
Harold remained facing the window. Was he observing her in the reflection?
Elise answered, “He would send over a request to take me on a carriage ride.”
Harold opened the window and straddled the sill. “I will come by for you this afternoon, say three o’clock.”
“For what purpose?” It would be impossible for him to have information on Mr. Howlington that fast.
Harold was already halfway out the window when he said, “To take you on a carriage ride, of course.”
He carefully closed the window as he exited. How extremely confident he was. It had been one of his more alluring qualities. The mere thought of him calling on her had Elise’s pulse accelerating. She needed to keep her reactions to the man in check. Harold had stayed away without a single word for years. Her resolve to protect her heart should not dissipate upon sight, but she wasn’t sure she had the willpower to resist him. Her traitorous soul missed him terribly. Harold’s timing was atrocious. She had just convinced herself that she could banish him from her thoughts forever. Blast the man.
A vision of Kilman floated before her. A true gentleman, kind, reliable, honest, and trustworthy. If only he had the same effect upon her as Harold had, she would have married him years ago. But the sad truth was her blood didn’t heat at Kilman’s touch, and her pulse remained steady in his presence.
Chapter Three
Harold strode into Gentleman Jackson’s and scanned the crowd. Having been out of society for far too many years, he wasn’t familiar with the younger set, nor did he have an inkling as to what Mr. Howlington would look like. Men gathered around improvised rings, some half-naked, others already bloody and bruised. He meandered down along a makeshift path, Elise’s words floating through his head. “I’m the daughter of a duke, as is Lady Isodora.” His heart seized just as it had when those words had been uttered a decade ago.
Elise’s beauty and intelligence still captured his attention, but there was a jaded quality to her views. What events could have caused such a change within her? His cravat seemed to tighten about his neck. Her papa had explicitly stated she would be fine. His Grace had made promises. Harold’s anxiety caused his palms to sweat. Annoyed by his physical reaction, he tugged at each gloved finger and extracted his hands from the fine leather. The duke had made promises to take care of her in return for Harold’s absence. He slapped his gloves over his thigh. She was to marry someone of similar status and wealth. Lies.
Curse his pride and stubborn nature. He should have taken what he knew was his. Harold had held himself in check in her chambers. Their interlude from years ago was still fresh in his memory. Elise’s lips were tempting, but he sensed she had formed a fortress around herself, and until he regained her confidence, there would be no kissing. He was determined this time he would do whatever necessary to gain her trust and have her for a wife.
Out of thin air, Fairmont appeared at his side. “Where did you nick off to last night?”
Ignoring his friend, Harold continued to make his way toward a pack of young Corinthians he had spotted.
Fairmont had no trouble keeping pace. “I assume you left to meet up with your mistress. Lucky bastard. I gave up mine as soon as I started my hunt for a wife.”
Harold stopped and stared at Fairmont. “Really?” How was it that he called the pompous fool in front of him his best friend? “How considerate of you, Fairmont.”
“Either you didn’t visit Ms. Vankish, or she left you wanting.”
Harold wasn’t a liar. But he also felt no need to answer to Fairmont. “What do you know of Mr. Howlington?”
Fairmont pointed his chin in the direction of a young man stripping to the waist. “That young pup?”
Harold’s gaze fell upon a strapping lad jumping about, executing what appeared to be a warm-up routine. Mr. Howlington had broad shoulders and lean muscles. Harold rolled his neck—he would be in for a decent fight.
Fairmont eyed Harold and smiled. “He is the heir to the Viscount of Hawkbridge, who I might add is a featherbrain. I believe the lad inherited his mama’s good sense and an estate from her side. Although he doesn’t have the coin to fix up the place.”
Harold shrugged his shoulders, trying to loosen up his muscles, and stretched both arms and hands out behind him. Fairmont was a wealth of knowledge. Why didn’t Elise seek out her brother for the information? Or perhaps she already had, and she needed Harold to obtain more intimate details. No wonder Kilman assisted Elise. The thrill of hunting down a potential villain was heady. The rush of exhilaration had nothing to do with the thought of Elise needing him.
Harold said, “Let’s see how he is with his knuckles.”
They stopped next to the platform. Mr. Howlington bounced on his toes and threw well-formed jabs in the air, awaiting his opponent.
Mr. Howlington yelled, “Well, where is Broderick?”
Without thought, Harold stripped his shirt and slipped under the rope. “Mr. Howlington, is it? I’m Lord Thornston. Broderick sends his regrets. He can’t make it today.”
“Lord Thornston. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. How is it you know Broderick?”
“I don’t. Jackson thought I might prove a challenge and sent me over.”
The young man sized up him up. Harold hadn’t been in a gentlemanly fight in quite some time and was hoping he would remember the guidelines. Street brawling was more his style.
Mr. Howlington approached and murmured low, “Stay on your feet, old chap.”
Knocking knuckles, Harold replied, “I hope you do likewise.”
Loosening up, he let the young man bounce around. Mr. Howlington’s left hand sat low, but he had a long reach. As
the bout began, Harold allowed his opponent to get a few jabs in to the body. But when Mr. Howlington went for a wide cross hook, leaving him wide open, Harold took advantage and knocked the man out with a hard uppercut to the jaw.
He knelt next to Mr. Howlington until he came to. The young man spat the blood from his mouth and said, “Good job, old man. Well done.”
Harold reached out to help Mr. Howlington to his feet. He graciously accepted the help and then asked, “Up for more practice?”
“Not today. I wouldn’t want to knock you out more than once.”
Mr. Howlington smiled. “Perhaps you can talk me through your technique over a glass of whiskey then?”
Harold nodded, and to his surprise, Mr. Howlington wrapped an arm about his shoulders as if they were old chums. This was his opportunity to press the young man for information.
“Do you box often?”
“Aye, undefeated until you. I should have known better, seeing you are mates with Fairmont and all.”
Harold raised an eyebrow in response.
“Fairmont might not look it, but he’s a bruiser. The only one who’s come close to actually knocking me out.”
Funny, Fairmont had not added that piece of intelligence when sharing details of Mr. Howlington. Fairmont was not as forthcoming as Harold had originally thought. They had retrieved and donned their shirts before Harold suggested his club. “Brooks’s?”
Mr. Howlington replied, “Excellent idea.” He then scowled as his gaze fell upon a pair huddled by the exit.
As they walked past, Harold caught a portion of their conversation. “Her bodyguard is gone. Now is our opportunity.” It was such an odd statement that he looked back at the pair.
“You haven’t been about recently. That was Lord Tallow and Mr. Rollingsworth. Both are miscreants. You won’t want to associate with them, Lord Thornston, not if you want the ton to give you back your wings.”
“Wings?”
“You might be an earl and associate with a duke, but the ton is still undecided about you.”
“Are you still undecided?” Harold asked.
Mr. Howlington laughed and slapped him on the back. “It is impolite to be so direct, Lord Thornston. Don’t worry, old man; I’ll help you ease your way back so you can land yourself a countess.”
“Is that what everyone thinks? I’m on the hunt for a wife?”
“Well, why else would you want to return? And Fairmont has made it blatantly clear he is in search of a duchess.”
“What of you?”
Mr. Howlington’s eyes blazed a little brighter. “Alas. My search is over. I’ve already found my partner for life.” The lad’s eyes twinkled, and the ruddiness upon his cheeks was evidence enough to prove he was in love.
Harold prided himself on being a good judge of character. Without a doubt, Mr. Howlington’s intentions were truly honorable.
Mr. Howlington sighed. “I’ve loved her for as long as I can remember.”
“Who is this lucky lady?”
“Lord Thornston, I’m not at liberty to share. I’ve still to seek permission from her papa.”
“Who would be?”
“Who would be a duke, and an intimidating one at that. While I am to inherit a title, my papa’s family has a history of living for uncharacteristically long periods. My papa did not inherit until he was nearly nine and forty. I know Izzy’s…” Mr. Howlington’s eyes widened as soon as he had made mention of his intended.
Not wanting the man to worry, Harold reassured him. “I won’t say a word. His Grace, the Duke of Bansfield, has a reputation of respecting those of intelligence and character. Fortunate that you appear to possess both.”
Mr. Howlington’s youthful confidence faltered as he shared, “She is so far above my rank I worry her papa will not grant his permission.”
Harold had been young, insecure, and in the same predicament as Mr. Howlington. He wouldn’t let the lad make the same error he had years ago. Curious, Harold asked, “How old are you?”
Defensively Mr. Howlington replied, “Four and Twenty. Why do you ask?”
“Old enough, I guess. Do you love Lady Isodora?”
“Without a doubt.”
At Mr. Howlington’s declaration, Harold advised, “You are older than I was. Fight for her. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”
Mr. Howlington tilted his head and pursed his lips. “What mistake…”
He was interrupted by the sound of horse hooves, and then Fairmont appeared before them.
Looking down at the pair from his mount, Fairmont asked, “Thornston, where are you off to?”
Ignoring Fairmont’s obnoxious tone, Harold slapped an arm about Mr. Howlington’s shoulders. “Brooks’s. Care to join us?”
Fairmont adjusted his seat upon his steed, nose in the air as if he were addressing commoners. “No. I have matters to attend to at home. But I expect you to accompany me to the Emsworth Ball this evening.”
Harold shot a look of disbelief up at his best friend. “Fine. I will see you later. I plan on taking Elise for a carriage ride.”
“Thornston. You are to refer to her as Lady Elise, as her position warrants, when in company.” Fairmont’s gaze flickered to Mr. Howlington. “Don’t bother coming by later. Elise will only be available when I’m present.”
Fairmont didn’t wait for a reply. He turned his mount and left.
When had Fairmont turned into a pompous fool? He clenched his jaw. What! Had Fairmont given him the cut direct? It was as if he was speaking to the old Duke of Fairmont all over again and not his best friend, Benedict. He had made the mistake of letting Elise go years ago, but just as he had advised Mr. Howlington, he was not going down without a fight this time.
Mr. Howlington shook his head. “All dukes are the same, no matter if you grew up with them or not.”
“Mr. Howlington, take my advice. Dukes are men just like you and me. Some of them need to be reminded of that fact.”
“And I suspect you are the one to remind Fairmont.”
Harold, in all seriousness, said, “Indeed I am. I suspect your discussion with the Duke of Bansfield will go exceedingly well if you speak the truth and tell him how much you love his daughter.”
“I pray you are correct, Lord Thornston. My thanks for your encouragement. I think I’ll leave you and see to the task immediately.”
Mr. Howlington exuded confidence as he hailed a hackney and hopped in, leaving Harold on Bond Street. He continued down the busy thoroughfare, passing by numerous ladies who both flaunted and fluttered their wares in an attempt to capture his attention. There was only one woman on his mind—Elise. But first, he needed to visit his mistress.
Harold bounded up the stairs to the town house he rented for Anastasia. He stood rapping on the door until his scantily clad mistress appeared.
“My lord. I was not expecting you.”
Harold barged his way into the house. “I have matters to discuss with you.” He walked into the parlor and headed directly for the sideboard to pour himself a healthy finger of scotch. Deciding it best to be direct and to the point, he swallowed his drink in one gulp. “Anastasia, I’ve decided that it is time for us to end our arrangement.”
Unfazed by his declaration, Anastasia lay upon the settee and stretched out her long limbs. Her gown slowly slipping to the side, exposing her smooth naked skin. Skimming her hand over every curve and valley, Anastasia was well versed in the art of seduction and knew how to wield its power in order to obtain her wishes.
“Come, my lord. Let me remind you why you should reconsider.”
His body immediately responded to the sight of Anastasia’s bare skin, but his mind remained focused on his purpose. He poured another drink and again consumed it with one gulp, hoping the burning sensation would ease the discomfort he felt in his trousers. If his mistress even caught a glimpse of his current state, there would be no end to this discussion.
He walked to the window, leaving his back to his paramour. “I�
��ve made up my mind, Anastasia. There is no need to make the situation awkward.”
“Does this have anything to do with that prig of a duke you call a friend?”
Over his shoulder, Harold gave her a stern look. A warning. “I have agreed to assist His Grace in his search for the next Duchess of Fairmont.”
“What do you know of women of quality?”
Anastasia’s question immediately brought to mind Benedict’s test. Could he still recite every interest, want, and desire Elise had? There had been a time when there was no doubt he’d be capable of such a feat. But now?
The rustling of material caught Harold’s attention. Anastasia lay completely naked, plastered upon her beautiful features the come-hither smile that had never failed to entice him. Until today. “I’m happy for you to keep your wardrobe and jewels. I’ll continue to pay the lease for another six months.”
“You think it will take me that long to find another? You insult me!”
Harold wanted to cover his ears like a small child as her shrill response continued to ring in his ears. Just as that thought left his mind, a book whirled past his ear and crashed into the window.
Next, a vase flew by him and shattered as it crashed into the wall.
“Anastasia, there is no need…” Harold raised his arm to shield his head, but his reflexes were too slow. A plate caught him square on the forehead, splintering before crashing to the ground.
“Out! Don’t come back.” Anastasia flung the decanter at him as he fled.
It had been a generous offer. Harold shook his head as the door slammed behind him. He had considered his offer to be fair. He wanted to provide Anastasia with options, the opportunity to select her next protector and not be at the mercy of some old lecher.
He left without a backward glance, ready to leave his past behind him. Instructing his driver to return home, he peered at his timepiece. He would have just enough time to ready himself before accompanying Fairmont and Elise to the Emsworth ball.
Desires of Lady Elise Page 3
