A Gentleman's Honor

by Stephanie Laurens

  Over numerous afternoons, he’d taught the boys the tricks of keeping their kites aloft. He’d transparently enjoyed the moments; something inside her had rejoiced to see him caught again in what must have been a boyhood pleasure.

  “Hmm.” Studying the kite flyers, he hesitated; she got the impression he was steeling himself to resist the lure of the kites and do something else, something he was reluctant to do.

  A moment passed, then he looked at her. “Actually, I wanted to speak with you.”

  She widened her eyes, inviting him to continue.

  Still he hesitated; his eyes searched hers—abruptly she realized he was metaphorically girding his loins.

  “I want you to move house.”

  She frowned at him. “Move? But why? Waverton Street suits us—”

  “For safety reasons. Precautions.” He trapped her gaze.

  “I don’t want you or your household subjected to any repeat of yesterday.”

  She had no wish to argue that; no one had enjoyed the experience. But… she let her frown grow. “How will a different house avoid…” The intentness in his black eyes registered. Her lips parted; she stared, then baldly asked, “To which house do you wish us to move?”

  His lips thinned. “Mine.”

  “No.”

  “Before you say that, just consider—living under my roof you’ll have the protection not just of my title, my status, but also of all those allied with me and my family.” His eyes pinned her. “So will your sister and brothers.”

  Folding her arms, she narrowed her eyes back. “For the moment, let’s leave Adriana and the boys out of this discussion—it hasn’t escaped my notice that you’re always quick to drag them into the fray.”

  He scowled at her. “They’re part of it—they’re part of you.”

  “Perhaps. Be that as it may, you can’t seriously think—”

  He cut her off with a raised hand. “Hear me out. If it’s the proprieties that are exercising you, my cousin and her two young daughters—they’re ten and twelve—will be arriving tomorrow. With Miranda in residence, there’s no reason—social, logical, or otherwise—that you and your household cannot stay at Torrington House. It’s a mansion—there’s more than enough room.”

  “But…” She stared at him. The words: I’m your mistress, for heaven’s sake! burned her tongue. Compressing her lips, she fixed him with a strait look, and primly asked, “What will your staff think?”

  What she meant was: what will the entire ton think. To be his mistress was one thing; the ton turned a blind eye to affairs between gentlemen such as he and fashionable widows. However, to be his mistress and live openly under his roof was, she was fairly certain, going that one step too far.

  His expression had turned bewildered. “My staff?”

  “Your servants. Those who would have to adjust to and cope with the invasion.”

  “As it happens, they’re delighted at the prospect.” His frown returned. “I can’t imagine why you’d think otherwise. My butler’s going around with a smile threatening to crack his face, and the staff are buzzing about, getting rooms ready.”

  She blinked, suddenly uncertain. If his butler thought her living in the Upper Brook Street mansion was acceptable… she’d always understood tonnish butlers to be second only to the grandes dames in upholding the mores of the ton.

  Tony sighed. “I know we haven’t properly discussed it, but there isn’t time. Just because we’ve trumped A. C.’s last three tricks doesn’t mean he won’t try again.” His expression resolute, he met her eyes. “That he’s tried three times to implicate you suggests he’s fixated on the idea of using you to cover his tracks. I’m sure he’ll try again.”

  An inkling of why he was so set on moving her into his house, having her, at least for the present, under his roof, reached her. She hesitated.

  He sensed it. Shifting closer, he pressed his point. “There’s a huge schoolroom with bedrooms attached, and rooms for Jenkins and Fitchett nearby. There’s a back garden the boys can play in when they’re not having their lessons—and the staff truly are looking forward to having boys running up and down the stairs again.”

  Despite all, that last made her smile.

  He squeezed her hand, raised it to his chest. “You and the boys and Adriana will be comfortable and safe at Torrington House. You’ll be happy there.”

  And he’d be happy if she was there, too—that didn’t need saying, it was there in his eyes.

  “Please.” The word was soft. “Come and live with me.”

  Her heart turned over; her resolution wavered.

  “There’s no reason at all you can’t—no hurdle we can’t overcome.”

  Lost in his eyes, she pressed her lips tight.

  Felt a tug on her gown. She looked down.

  Matthew stood beside them; neither of them had noticed his approach. Face alight, he stared first at one, then the other, then breathlessly asked, “Are we really going to live at Tony’s house?”

  By the time they got back to Waverton Street, Alicia had a headache. A frown had taken up permanent residence on her face; she couldn’t seem to lose it.

  She was seriously annoyed, not specifically but generally—she couldn’t blame Tony for involving her brothers, but involved they now were, and determined to convince her of the huge benefits of removing with all speed to Torrington House.

  If Tony was ruthless, they were relentless. She went up the steps, shooing them before her, feeling almost battered.

  Despite their arguments, she felt very sure she needed to think long and hard about this latest proposition. She needed to investigate, and make sure that her presence in his house wouldn’t harm his standing.

  Nor make her own any more perilous.

  “Off to wash your hands. No tea until you do.”

  It was blackberry jam day again, so they rushed off without argument.

  With a short sigh, she swung to face Tony.

  He was watching her closely. “Come and sit down.”

  She let him steer her to the parlor. Scully and Jenkins disappeared. Sinking onto the chaise, she fixed Tony with a darkling glance. “I haven’t agreed.”

  He inclined his head and, wisely, made no reply.

  Tea should have soothed her temper. Unfortunately, her brothers were not so perspicacious as Tony; although clever enough not to directly argue their case, their artful comments, tossed entirely among themselves, on the possibilities they imagined might accrue should they go to live in Upper Brook Street—possibilities like having suitable banisters to slide down, possibilities they innocently requested advice on from Tony—filled the minutes.

  She kept her lips shut and refused to be drawn.

  Then she heard the front door open, and Adriana’s and Geoffrey’s voices. She turned as they came in.

  Adriana’s face glowed. “We had a lovely drive around Kew. The gardens were well worth the visit.”

  Alicia sat forward and reached for the spare teacups, wondering how to broach the subject of Tony’s proposed move, preferably in a way that would ensure her sister’s cooperation in holding back what had started to feel like an inexorable tide.

  Adriana tossed her bonnet onto the window seat, took the cup of tea Alicia had poured to Geoffrey, sitting in the second armchair, then sat beside Alicia on the chaise. Taking the cup she handed her, Adriana’s gaze went to Geoffrey; he was being served crumpets and jam by Harry and Matthew.

  Following her gaze, Alicia watched, noted. Despite their love of crumpets, the boys had readily shared; they’d accepted Geoffrey, not perhaps in the same unquestioning way they’d accepted Tony, yet they clearly counted him one of their small circle and trusted him.

  Smiling, Adriana turned to her. “Geoffrey told me about Tony’s suggestion that we move to Upper Brook Street.” She sipped, then met Alicia’s eyes. “It sounds an excellent idea…” Her voice trailed away; seeing Alicia’s reaction, she blinked. “Isn’t it?”

  Alicia looked at Tony
. He returned her regard steadily, giving not an inch. She glanced at Geoffrey, but he was— quite deliberately she was sure—chatting with her brothers about the merits of blackberry jam.

  Slowly, she drew breath, then met Adriana’s gaze. “I don’t know.” The unvarnished truth.

  “Well—”

  Adriana tried to persuade her all over again; her arguments echoed Tony’s, yet were sufficiently different to assure Alicia he hadn’t been so foolish as to plot with her sister against her.

  He knew the thought crossed her mind; when, recognizing her suspicion was misplaced, she glanced at him, he searched her eyes, then faintly raised a brow. Raising his cup, he calmly sipped. And left her fighting a rear-guard action against everyone else in the room.

  Her brothers didn’t press her directly; instead, they supported and elaborated on Adriana’s themes. And then Geoffrey, more quietly but also more seriously and with considerably more weight, threw his support behind Adriana and Tony.

  Looking into Geoffrey’s steady brown gaze, Alicia felt her resistance waver. She could see why Geoffrey wanted Adriana and the rest of them under Tony’s roof. Glancing at Tony, she knew the same reason was a significant part of his motivation, too. Was she being irrational in refusing to agree?

  She needed reassurance, but not the sort anyone present could give—

  The doorbell pealed. She glanced at the clock; time had flown. Hearing feminine voices in the hall, she rose. She tugged the bellpull to summon Jenkins, and instructed her brothers they could finish the crumpets before returning to their lessons.

  Turning, she headed for the door, Adriana behind her. Tony and Geoffrey followed.

  “Ah—there you are, Alicia!” In the hall, Kit Hendon beamed at her.

  Beside her, Leonora Wemyss smiled. “I hope we haven’t called at an inopportune moment, but there’s a gathering at Lady Mott’s that it would be wise to attend, and we wanted to coordinate which events we’ll go to tonight.”

  Alicia smiled, touched hands, waited while they greeted the others, then ushered both ladies into the drawing room. As they all sat, disposing themselves on the chaise and the chairs, she realized that neither Kit nor Leonora had evinced the slightest surprise at discovering Tony and Geoffrey present.

  The middle of the afternoon was not a common time for gentlemen to call.

  Leonora plunged immediately into a discussion of the most promising events planned for that evening. “I think Lady Humphries’ rout, then the Canthorpes’ ball and the Hemmingses’, too. What do you think?”

  They tossed around the possiblities, eventually replacing the Hemmingses’ ball with the Athelstans’. “Much better connected,” Tony said, his eyes capturing Alicia’s, “and that helps at the end of a long night.”

  “Yes.” Leonora nodded, gaze distant as if reviewing a mental list. “That should do it.” She glanced at Alicia. “A very good night’s work.”

  “Now,” Kit said, sitting forward, “the reason we think visiting Lady Mott’s in the next hour would be wise is that her gatherings invariably attract all the busiest bodies in town. They’re of the older, more crotchety crew, and while our story will doubtless have reached some of them, there are others who are highly active but only during the day.”

  “If we concentrate our activities solely on the evening events, we’ll miss them,” Leonora put in. “Not only would that leave an avenue open for A. C. to exploit, but those old ladies themselves won’t thank us—they hate to be behindhand with gossip.”

  The observation made them all grin.

  Alicia glanced down at her lilac gown; she’d worn it to luncheon at Lady Candlewick’s, but courtesy of her sojourn in the park, grass stains now adorned the hem. “I’ll have to change my gown.”

  “So will I.” Adriana waved at her carriage dress, quite unsuitable attire for an afternoon call on Lady Mott and company.

  “No matter.” Sitting back, Kit waved. “Leonora and I will wait.”

  Alicia looked at Tony and Geoffrey. The opportunity to talk privately to Kit and Leonora, to sound them out over Tony’s suggestion, was a godsend—but she didn’t want to leave Tony alone with them in case he wooed them to his cause before she’d a chance to assess their true reactions.

  As if bowing to her wishes, he uncrossed his long legs and stood. With a glance, he roused Geoffrey, then turned to her. “We’ll leave you. I’ll call for you at eight, if that’s suitable?”

  She rose to see them out. “Yes, of course.”

  He and Geoffrey farewelled Kit and Leonora. Adriana also rose and accompanied them into the hall. Maggs stood ready to open the door.

  Alicia gave Tony her hand. He held it, looked into her eyes; reading them, his lips tightened. “You will consider my suggestion, won’t you?”

  “Yes.” She held his gaze. “But I don’t know that I’ll agree.”

  The urge to argue welled strong; she could see it in his eyes, feel it in the clasp of his fingers about hers. But he quelled it. Suavely inclined his head.

  Releasing her hand, he nodded to Adriana. With Geoffrey following, he went out of the door and down the steps into the street.

  Alicia let out the breath she’d been holding and turned.

  Saw Adriana’s lips open and held up a hand. “Not now. We need to get changed—we can’t keep Kit and Leonora waiting.”

  Adriana, every bit as stubborn as she, pressed her lips tight, but acquiesced. They went quickly up the stairs side by side. Alicia turned into her room—and then hurried like a fiend, selecting a pale green gown of the finest twill and struggling into it, then expertly tweaking and resetting her coiled hair.

  She was ready long before Adriana; quickly, shoes pattering, she hurried back down to the drawing room.

  Regardless of the fact she’d only made their acquaintance yesterday, with Kit and Leonora she’d felt an instant rapport. Indeed, they had only met on her front step, yet the directness, the ready understanding on which friendship and trust were based, were already there between them. She could ask them about Tony’s suggestion; they were two of the very few people whose opinion on such an issue she would trust.

  Kit was describing one of her eldest son’s antics; she smiled as Alicia rejoined them, and quickly brought the story to a close.

  Sinking onto the chaise, Alicia clasped her hands in her lap. Both Kit and Leonora looked at her; she drew breath and stated, “In light of the difficulties A. C. seems intent on causing, Torrington has asked me to consider moving this household to Upper Brook Street. To his house.”

  Leonora opened her eyes wide.

  Kit frowned, tapped her fingers on the chair arm. “Who else is resident there?”

  “A widowed cousin and her two young daughters—ten and twelve—are expected tomorrow.”

  Leonora’s face cleared; she glanced at Kit. “It would certainly be—” She looked at Alicia and grimaced. “I was going to say an improvement, but by that I mean that while this address is perfectly respectable, Upper Brook Street would place you in the heart of the ton. It would be a statement in itself.”

  “Indeed,” Kit agreed. “And given we suspect A. C. knows the ropes quite well, it’s a statement he’ll understand.” She shifted, her bluey violet eyes studying Alicia.

  “I know Torrington House—Jack and Tony are old friends. It’s a huge mansion, and currently only Tony lives there—you can imagine him rattling around like a pea in a cauldron. And it’s fully staffed—he’s never been able to bring himself to let anyone go, even though there’s really no call for three parlormaids when there’s only a bachelor to cater for. From what I’ve seen of his butler, Hungerford, he’ll be in alt at the prospect of having a houseful of people to organize for again.”

  “It sounds like an excellent suggestion.” Leonora looked at Alicia. “And it certainly sounds as if your household—boys and all—will fit.”

  Alicia studied their faces. There was not the slightest hint that either saw anything in any way remotely socially unaccept
able in the notion of her living at Torrington House. In the end, she put her question directly. “You don’t think it will be seen as scandalous—my living there?”

  Leonora opened her eyes wide, clearly surprised by the question. “With his cousin in residence, I really can’t see why anyone would disapprove.”

  She glanced at Kit, who nodded in agreement.

  They both looked at Alicia. She summoned a smile. “I see. Thank you.”

  Adriana came in, a stunning breath of fresh air in a frilled gown of white muslin sprigged with blue. “Ready?”

  The three ladies seated smiled and rose. Linking arms, they headed for Lady Mott’s.

  How he managed to keep his tongue between his teeth Tony didn’t know, but he held his peace on the subject of the move for the entire evening.

  Kit helped. She swanned up to him in Lady Humphries’ ballroom and claimed his arm for a waltz. Alicia laughed and waved them away, remaining chatting with a group of others, all sufficiently harmless. Reluctantly, he let Kit lead him to the floor.

  “Mission accomplished,” she informed him the instant they were safely revolving. “And I was superbly subtle, I’ll have you know. I didn’t even have to mention it—she asked, and Leonora and I reassured her. We told her it was an excellent idea.”

  She smiled at him. “So next time Jack’s being difficult about something, remember—you owe me.”

  He humphed and whirled her about, and forbore to mention that if Jack was being difficult about something, he’d almost certainly agree with him. “How did she take it?” he asked when they were once more precessing sedately up the room.

  Kit frowned. “I’m not sure, but the impression I got was that her resistance stemmed primarily from a concern that in accepting your invitation she’d be committing some sort of social solecism.” She looked up at him. “She’s more or less on her own, with no older lady to guide her. For what it’s worth, I don’t think her resistance is all that entrenched.”

  “Good.”

  They spoke no more of it; at the end of the dance, he returned Kit to Jack’s side.