by Heather Boyd
“Not well enough to beat you.”
“By rights, I should give my winnings back to you, too.” Then she started to pick up her winnings—or rather, his losses—prepared to hand them back. Miss Hillcrest had made a tidy sum off of him tonight. The amount was nothing he would miss in the long run. But he could understand how others in society might not be so forgiving when they lost to a wallflower. “Keep the money. It was fairly won, but I promise you the next time we engage in such a battle, I shall not underestimate you again.”
That made her smile grow and, sensing he’d said the right thing to reassure her, he slapped his hands on the table and looked around at everyone. “It has been a delightful evening. Thank you.”
“I’m so glad you could join us tonight,” Lady Carmichael murmured, rising.
“I am too.” He stood when Carmichael did, and bid the ladies a good night.
Before they could leave, Carmichael rounded the table and kissed his wife soundly, “I’ll see you soon.”
Lady Carmichael agreed and led her friend back toward the drawing room. But Miss Hillcrest glanced over her shoulder at the door—and winked at him before disappearing.
Alexander felt as if she’d just knocked him off his feet. Cheeky wench!
Tonight was the first time he’d truly paid attention to her, and it seemed he’d missed a lot.
“Are you coming,” Carmichael called.
“Yes, I suppose,” he agreed, although he was tempted to follow the women, and particularly the unexpectedly bold Miss Hillcrest. He clapped Carmichael on the shoulder and they strolled in the opposite direction. “I see you and your wife are still so very polite to each other,” he teased.
Carmichael’s smile softened. “I promised we’d see Miss Hillcrest home together. I just wanted to make sure she didn’t go out without me.”
“Ah,” he murmured, disinterested in having Carmichael launch into the benefits of his recent marriage again. Carmichael was quite changed since he’d wed. He was rarely out without his wife and spent much time engaged in her interests instead of his old ones. He absolutely refused to attend scandalous parties if his wife couldn’t attend them, too, and he had hardly shown his face at the club this year.
Still, he was a good friend and confidant. Alexander would adjust to the loss of his frequent companionship in due time, he expected.
They made their way into the library and shut the doors. “You’re not offended I didn’t warn you, were you?”
Alexander found a chair and made himself comfortable. “About Miss Hillcrest’s skill? No, why should I be?”
Carmichael sighed with obvious relief. “I must admit it was a bit of a test. You are the best player I know, and obviously the best at keeping a secret. Sylvia dabbled a bit and won at Exeter’s one night, and got snubbed for it the next day. She couldn’t be persuaded to play after that, other than alone in the carriage with us, and here tonight.”
“No one likes to lose to a wallflower,” Alexander noted, and then shrugged. “I wonder how she’d fare against the likes of Lord Pulling and his circle.”
Carmichael shook his head quickly. “He doesn’t have your sense of humor. He would not be amused if he lost to a spinster.”
“It would be enjoyable to see them brought low, though. If she were married or engaged, she might not risk reprisals, but as she is a spinster, I’d advise against it.”
Carmichael winced. “The lady is decidedly not interested in men, courtship or marriage for herself, so I suppose we’ll never see that day come.”
One detail had stuck in his mind about Miss Hillcrest. “Doesn’t she run some sort of school for gentlemen?”
“With her two cousins, yes. The Hillcrest Academy. They help gentlemen polish up their manners before they attempt matrimony. We were lucky she could join us tonight, actually. Since her visit to Exeter’s estate, the Hillcrest Academy has been overrun with younger sons in need of tutelage.”
Alexander blinked. “Are there so many gentlemen deficient in seduction techniques?”
“Lacking in polish to impress the parents, perhaps,” Carmichael corrected. “But Exeter’s stamp carries great weight, so…”
“Since Miss Hillcrest and the new Duchess of Exeter became close over the holiday, her value to society is greater than ever, I take it?”
“Indeed.”
Wharton nodded. “She accomplished a feat many titled women of our acquaintance couldn’t claim for themselves. She has the duchess’ ear, and the duchess has the duke’s. Quite the coup.”
“It wasn’t as coldly done as that.”
“Oh, but that will be what everyone thinks.” Alexander shrugged. “Her grace’s cautious nature shows how wise a choice Exeter made in his wife. Now, on to the real reason I came.”
“What’s that?” Carmichael asked, blinking.
“Our little problem.”
Carmichael looked confused. “What problem?”
“Norrington,” Alexander reminded the earl.
The clouds cleared in Carmichael’s eyes. “Ah, yes. Norrington.”
“Did you find out anything more over the last week?”
“Nothing we can use to free him from his own error in judgment. He’s still gambling as if he’s wading in funds.”
“Damn. We shall need to have him followed. See where he goes, who else he owes.”
Carmichael shook his head. “Isn’t espionage a bit extreme? Just ask him.”
“Would you admit you were in danger of losing everything not entailed? No. I’m sure you would not. Besides, the damn fool is avoiding me.”
“Because of his wife.”
“It’s nonsense.” Alexander scowled, recollecting a rumor about himself that was causing him problems again. He had once favored Lady Norrington, but that had been before she’d wed Lord Norrington. “I have no intention of making Lady N my mistress this season, or any other.”
“Glad to hear it.” Carmichael threw himself into a chair. “I’m not sneaking around to low places spying on the man for you, then. I won’t embarrass my wife when people claim I’m bound for ruin again.”
Carmichael had nearly drowned himself in grief over another woman nearly a year past, but he’d found his way, married and settled down, and was perhaps about to become a father soon. And possibly too busy for an old friend with a pressing problem he needed help to solve. “I’ve someone in mind for the task of following Norrington about, or a few someones, perhaps. I’ll be using an intermediary so it won’t come back to him that I’m looking into his affairs. Norrington has damn sharp eyes, but his wife is miserable.”
“And he has a prickly disposition.” Carmichael nodded. “How is it that you even found out about their problems?”
“I happened upon husband and wife in the park. They’d just argued, and Norrington had stormed off. She was obviously upset, and she just blurted it all out to me,” he admitted. “Swore me to secrecy of course, when she’d realized how it would seem. But I could help her. I’ve managed to buy up some of the debt so others couldn’t.”
“He won’t see it that way,” Carmichael warned.
“Would you allow a friend to become insolvent if you could stop it?”
“No. I suppose not.” Carmichael pulled a face. “Are you going to tell them what you’ve done?”
“Of course I will not. Norrington would only get in another huff,” Alexander warned.
“You should tell her what you’re doing, at least. She attends St. George’s every Sunday when in Town.”
“If I presented myself at St. George’s for any reason, my mother would return to Town expecting a wedding. I’d rather not stir up trouble in that direction if you don’t mind.”
“Speaking of your mother, where is she this season?”
“Home.”
“And your brother and sisters?”
“Obviously elsewhere, or I’d be in a very bad mood.” He shrugged. His family knew better than to trouble him when he was in London, which was oft
en. “My sisters are with Mother in the country, my brother is probably off somewhere drinking again.”
“Toby does have other interests, and you know it.”
Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose. Just thinking about his brother gave him a megrim. “It pains me how little he cares about the fate of our country.”
“His interests lie in living,” Carmichael noted. “At least he’s not underfoot. That might upset all your plans to run our lives for us.”
Alexander lowered his hand. “There is that, I suppose. I had such hope for him once.”
“When was this?”
“I was twelve, and Toby eleven. I’d started my training for taking Father’s place. Practicing speeches and such. Learning all I could. Toby used to help me write them but then he started looking out the door at the prettiest housemaids. I foolishly blabbed to Father instead of handling the matter myself, and that was the beginning of the end. When Toby came of age, he started spending every day away from home, in the tavern or at the races. Father was encouraging his vices by that time, I’m afraid to say. He moved into the dower house and kept a woman there, too, I later found out. Till I inherited, anyway, and put a stop to it.”
“Ah, brothers.” Carmichael put his hands behind his head. “How troublesome they must be.”
Alexander studied Lord Carmichael a long moment and pulled a face. Carmichael had no living family, other than his wife…and perhaps their expectation he hadn’t mentioned yet. Alexander was curious if his suspicion was correct. “I suppose it won’t be long before you have a squalling brat underfoot.”
Carmichael’s grin grew slowly. “I wondered if you’d notice.”
“Hard to miss that you and your wife were beaming all night.” He nodded, pleased that he’d guessed correctly. “Congratulations to you both.”
“Thank you. We were planning to tell you before we return to the country. We won’t be back this year.”
“Ah, I’m sorry to hear it but I do understand.” Everything was changing. Alexander would have to rely on other friends for amusement soon.
Carmichael squinted at him. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Did you change your mind about getting yourself a wife?”
Alexander spluttered. “Good God, no. I’ve no patience for my existing family, and you want to saddle me with a wife?”
“You’d have company while I’m away in the country tending my wife and first child.”
“I hardly need a keeper,” Alexander complained sourly. “Why on earth do married men always try to hamstring their bachelor friends with a permanent woman? A wife would only get in my way.”
“Perhaps she could help you.”
Alexander snorted. “I doubt there is a woman I’ve ever met who can keep as many secrets as I do, or help me with any of them.” A woman was a distraction and a complication he could happily do without this season.
Chapter 2
Albemarle Street
London
* * *
“So it is all very satisfying, don’t you think? We are booked solid for two months at least, and there are more gentlemen hinting at coming to see us, too.” Sylvia Hillcrest glanced at her two cousins lying on her bed, noting they were both captivated by her ceiling. She nudged them with her foot. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Indeed we are. You’ve done so well in society, and as a result, business in booming.”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic,” she noted, growing concerned that her efforts had fallen short of their expectations.
“Forgive us, dear cousin. But we both returned very late last night,” Eugenia explained.
“I couldn’t sleep at all,” Aurora lamented.
Sylvia hadn’t, either. She had spent a lovely evening with her friends and, when she’d come home, a lovely night counting her winnings from Lord Wharton. And then her thoughts had strayed into scandalous territory about him. “If you’re so tired, then why did you come into my room and wake me so early?”
Eugenia smiled. “I felt the need for your company.”
“I did too,” Aurora murmured. “No one talks better sense in the morning than you, Sylvia, and I am not thinking with a clear head at all.”
Eugenia adjusted a pillow under her head. “Indeed. I had the most remarkable encounter last night. It’s quite overset me.”
Sylvia turned onto her side and rested her head upon her hand to look at her cousin more closely. Encounters with handsome men were the highlight of her life. “Ooh, do tell?”
Eugenia pressed her hand to her brow. “He’s simply much too young to speak of but so horribly appealing I cannot help myself. I cannot seem to put him from my mind.”
“Who was he?”
“I’ve no idea. We passed each other in a hall. A chance meeting. My shawl slipped from my shoulders, by accident not design, and he gallantly returned it. We spoke barely a dozen words, and yet…”
“And yet…” Aurora and Sylvia said in unison, and then sighed, too.
Aurora turned on her side, tracing the pattern of Sylvia’s coverlet before she spoke. “I heard the most marvelous man sing last night. His beautiful voice sent such a thrill through me, I had to apply my fan and pretend my blush was simply the overheating of the room.”
Aurora was fascinated by dancers, musician, and actors. There was a new man on her mind nearly every week.
“What was the song?” Sylvia asked.
“I’ve no idea.” Aurora laughed helplessly and put her hands to her cheeks. “I was too intent on him. How wicked of me.”
They joined in laughing.
London held all sorts of interesting sights for a broadminded lady who understood passion, even if they, as spinsters firmly on the shelf, were not supposed to admit such things out loud.
Sylvia, too, had a recent encounter that had set her heart aflutter.
A man had truly seen her intelligence last night, and for a change had not been offended or threatened. The intensity of Lord Wharton’s gaze had sent a ripple of sensation through her, quite unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Sylvia was well versed in attraction and the need to fight it for the sake of propriety. However, last night, she’d thrown caution aside and let her own show, too. She’d winked at him!
Likely nothing would ever come of the flirtation but it was nice to imagine the possibilities. The Marquess of Wharton was far above her on the social ladder and could have anyone he wanted, most likely. They could hardly have anything in common, and his morals when it came to women were rumored to be quite broad. But oh how nice it had been to imagine more—for just a little while.
“What of you, Sylvia? Did anyone catch your eye?”
“Every single day,” she complained, deciding not to share her encounter with Lord Wharton because he was known to them all. “I really worry that this business we’re in of advising gentlemen will prove ruinous for our composure in the long run. We cannot use the image of them all farting in bed as a deterrent to finding them attractive.”
“London is a challenge for all of us in different ways,” Eugenia warned, thrusting out her hand.
Sylvia caught it up, as did Aurora. “We’ll do as we promised each other when we first moved in together. Discretion. Always. All we can rely upon is each other.”
Eugenia flopped onto her back. “I’m glad we can talk together like this. Imagine trying to hide how we feel about handsome gentlemen forever.”
“I’ll never keep secrets from either of you,” Aurora promised.
“I don’t think you could keep any at all, Aurora.”
They all laughed again because it was true. Aurora was the most vocally, passionately, attracted to men of the three of them, and the least likely not to admit it. Sylvia wasn’t quite as eager to share her encounters, for fear they never quite measured up to her cousins’ grandly passionate experiences.
They lay quietly for a while until Aurora stirred. “Who is coming today?”
“Lord Sullivan at ten, Scarsdale at
four, and there might be a new man coming at two for a quick conversation,” Sylvia said, ticking them off on her fingers.
Aurora scrunched up her face. “I promised to call on Lady Bisley at ten. She sent me a pretty letter saying she missed my company. If I am to keep her happy, I shall not be available to help with Lord Sullivan today.”
Eugenia sat up. “We’ll manage if you can be back for Scarsdale in the afternoon. Sylvia has to prepare for Lady Norrington’s evening soiree today.”
Sylvia studied her fingernails. “Yes, ten hours of preparation might just be sufficient to turn me into a ravishing creature men clamor to dance with. I wish it might be a masked ball so I can pretend to be someone other than me.”
“If you’re ravishing enough, they might want more,” Aurora teased. “Feel free to borrow anything you need from my wardrobe.”
“And from me, too. These little excursions of yours into society have finally turned the tide for us, but you must look your best. Make the most of this chance for new introductions while there are so many returning from the country for the season.”
“Thank you, I will if I need anything,” she agreed, biting her lip. Society was notoriously fickle, hard to please. Popularity in London came and went like a fitful breeze. At the moment, this season, Sylvia was receiving a greater number of invitations to some of the best society events, but there was always the underlying worry that they might stop if she offended anyone by being too much like herself. That was why she did not gamble very often.
With the day planned, Sylvia’s cousins left her alone with her thoughts. Yes, her visit to the Duke of Exeter’s country estate with her friends had given them all credibility and introductions beyond their wildest dreams. Because of that, Sylvia had decided she would not pursue any amorous liaisons, should the opportunity arise in the near future. Her cousins counted on Sylvia to maintain their reputation, not destroy it with an unwise affair with the wrong man who might talk later about having her in his bed.
She got out of her own, her thoughts returning to her encounter last night with Lord Wharton. He was quite fine to look at, and she admired confident men. The Marquess of Wharton was undoubtedly that and more.
