Regina, Evangeline, and Sophia assembled in a quiet corner of the Faldingworths’ ballroom between sets, bowing their heads together.
“What did you learn?” Regina whispered.
Evangeline grimaced and touched her gloved fingers to her temple. “Nothing so far, but I’ve only spoken with two of Uncle Charles’s associates. I was detained by Lord Reinhardt.”
Regina hissed in sympathy. The gentleman was well known for his lengthy monologues on hounds, and the blight plaguing civilization, also known as the middling sort. Being caught by Lord Reinhardt was the unfortunate consequence of dropping one’s guard. “Did you have any luck, Sophia?”
Her youngest sister shook her head. “My dance partners have been uninterested in antiquities, and even less keen on associating with anyone who is.” She pursed her lips. “I must say it has been eye-opening. Any man unwilling or incapable of discussing a topic so dear to Uncle Charles and Evangeline could never win my hand.”
Evangeline smiled and leaned her head against Sophia’s in a show of affection. “Thank you, dearest.”
Sophia’s dimple pierced her cheek. “That is simply how I feel. No need to thank me.” She gestured for Regina to deliver her own report.
“Your gentlemen don’t want to discuss antiquities, and my partners prefer no conversation at all.”
Typically, Regina declined to stand up with the scoundrels clamoring for her attention, but she had chosen to endure their tedious company for investigative purposes. She and her sisters were making a list of gentlemen who collected old maps. So far, they hadn’t gathered a single name.
Evangeline waved for them to come closer. Regina and Sophia swayed toward her. “I have been mulling over the situation all evening, and I keep coming back to the journal I found in Uncle Charles’s desk. I think his new project could be responsible for our dilemma.”
Regina’s breath caught slightly. “His study of the ancient assassins?”
“What assassins?” Sophia whispered.
Regina had forgotten Sophia was absent when Evangeline broke into their uncle’s desk and found the journal about the fabled group of warriors called the Black Death.
“Uncle Charles has ventured into a new area of study.” Regina glanced over her shoulder to ensure there were no eavesdroppers. “I promise to tell you later.”
Uncle Charles was tight lipped with anyone outside of Wedmore House about his expeditions, and he swore the family to secrecy for fear another antiquarian would find the treasure before him. Regina nibbled her bottom lip, contemplating the reason he’d hidden the Black Death even from them.
Evangeline lowered her voice even more. “I have combed through everything Uncle Charles has recovered from a site, and I could recite his study findings verbatim. There is no ancient map in his collection, and none have been catalogued.”
“It could simply mean whoever wants it is mistaken about its location,” Sophia said.
Evangeline’s blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight. “Or it could mean Uncle Charles has acquired a map to lead him to his next dig. Perhaps he has it in his possession, and his expedition is already underway.”
A shiver snaked up Regina’s back. Surely Uncle Charles wouldn’t begin a dig without informing them. Any manner of calamity could befall him on an expedition, and they hadn’t said their special good-bye.
The first time Uncle Charles left her and her sisters in Aunt Beatrice’s care, Regina had clung to him, begging him not to leave. Another man might have brushed her aside and scolded her for such an unbecoming display of emotion, but not Uncle Charles. He’d told her a tale about how everything would be all right as long as she didn’t wish him luck. Instead, they would wish each other the most ridiculous tragic ends they could imagine to trick the gods plotting mischief in whatever region he was set to visit.
May you fall face down in your plum pudding and die of happiness, Gigi.
Uncle, may the first woman you sight strike you blind with her beauty and cause you to stumble into the Nile.
They would exchange bad wishes until she’d doubled over with laughter, and the things that had frightened her seemed as silly as their make-believe endings. She had told herself that she had outgrown the ritual, but the quiver in her stomach suggested she hadn’t.
Evangeline stood up straight, the excited light fading from her eyes. “It’s time for the next set. Lord Nayland is practically galloping across the room in his haste to claim his dance with you.”
Regina winced. She hoped her next dance partner was better behaved than her last three. The other gentlemen had been too bold by half and challenged her reflexes with wandering hands.
“Instead of inquiring only about an interest in maps,” Evangeline said in a hurried whisper, “question him about the Crusades.”
Regina nodded to show she’d heard as Lord Nayland stopped in front of her and sketched a bow. “Miss Darlington, I believe I have this dance.”
For show, she checked her dance card before offering a polite smile and allowing him to escort her onto the floor. She searched the crowd for Xavier, suppressing a sigh when she still didn’t spot him. With his unusual height and dark curls, he was difficult to overlook.
Turning her attention toward her main purpose, she questioned Lord Nayland about his interest in ancient treasures, and asked if he knew anyone with a passion for cartography.
One side of his mouth slid up higher than the other when he smiled. “If discussing old broken pots and crumbling parchment stirs you, I could feign interest.”
Regina gave him credit for honesty, although the way he raked his gaze over her made her wish poking one’s dance partner in the eye wasn’t frowned upon. Fortunately, the string orchestra began to play and provided her with an excuse to end their conversation.
Lord Nayland proved to be a decent dance partner. Aside from the occasional innuendo and his intense stare, his behavior remained aboveboard. By the time the quartet’s ending notes floated on the humid air, she’d learned to ignore his unwavering gaze and was enjoying the fluidity of the movements.
Lord Nayland brushed a lock of dark blond hair from his forehead and drew her hand through the crook of his elbow. “You are a skilled dancer, Miss Darlington.”
“Thank you, my lord.” She glanced around the ballroom, hoping Xavier had arrived during the dance, but he still appeared to be missing. Lord Nayland urged her closer to his side. “If you are searching for your aunt, I saw her hurry outside a moment ago. I believe she might be ill.”
Regina almost rolled her eyes at his blatant lie. Aunt Beatrice was at home under Joy’s care and likely in bed at this hour. “How do you know she is ill, my lord?”
“She looked pale. Perhaps even slightly green around the gills.” He tugged her in the direction of the terrace doors. “Please, allow me to offer my assistance. I will take you to her.”
Regina planted her feet, dragging him to a stop, then smiled sweetly. “Heavens! I almost forgot Aunt Beatrice isn’t here this evening. Auntie must have a mirror image trotting around tonight.”
His pale blue eyes darkened to the color of the stormy sea. “You are without a keeper.” Perhaps it was her imagination, but she would swear he’d licked his chops.
“No, my lord. Lady Seabrook is my chaperone, and she is keeping close watch over my sisters and me.” She nodded toward Sophia’s dearest friend’s mother, a red-faced matron who had positioned herself in front of the French doors.
Lord Nayland waved, and the woman’s eyebrow arched in censorship. None of her charges were being whisked outside without going through her first. At a little under six feet tall, the lady’s wrath caused many to tremble in fear. Lady Seabrook was Viking by heritage and only a fool would engage in battle with her. Her weapons might be mere words, but she could cut another down to size as effectively as if she wielded a sword and shield.
Lord Nayland’s mouth set in a grim line, and she suspected he found the countess to be more bother than threat. He turned to R
egina to lift her hand to his lips then bade her farewell. Lady Seabrook came forward as soon as he disappeared into the crowd.
“Was the baron bothering you? Should I request my husband have a word with him?”
Regina smiled in gratitude. “Thank you, my lady, but there is no need to trouble the earl.”
“Especially when Miss Darlington’s betrothed has arrived.” Xavier’s familiar accent created gooseflesh along Regina’s arms, and she wheeled toward him with a thready gasp.
Lady Seabrook stepped forward to stand beside Regina and raised her quizzing glass to inspect him. “Miss Darlington is betrothed? To whom?”
Xavier flashed his easy smile. “To the lucky gentleman standing before you, my lady. I was smitten from the moment I saw Miss Darlington, and I am honored she has accepted my proposal.”
Regina linked arms with him, savoring his warmth against her side. “Please allow me to make introductions. Lady Seabrook, may I present Mr. Xavier Vistoire, my fiancé?”
“Indeed.” A rare sign of pleasure spread across Lady Seabrook’s face, plumping her high cheeks. “What an unexpected and wonderful surprise. Does my daughter know?”
“We’ve told no one aside from family and you,” Regina said. “It is all very new, so we haven’t had an opportunity to share our happy news.”
“May I help spread the word?” Lady Seabrook asked with a hopeful arch to her pale blond brows.
“We would be grateful, my lady,” Xavier said. His dark green gaze bore into Regina, and he lowered his voice for her ears only. “Every blackguard in Town needs to know you are mine.”
Twenty-five
Xavier pressed his clenched fist against his thigh and glowered at any man who dared to look at Regina as he escorted her to the refreshment room. Every bloody rake in attendance deserved a beating, and probably several others swarming about Town like locust deserved one as well. He would happily deliver facers to every one if doing so wouldn’t spark questions from Regina that he didn’t wish to answer. Even though she was aware the vermin were talking about her, she shouldn’t have to know what they were saying.
When he had arrived at the ball, he stopped inside the great room’s arched doorway to search for her. A group of men had gathered at the edge of the dance floor while the orchestra tuned their instruments between sets. As one would expect, they had come together to crow about their latest adventures—a successful run at the Hazard table, a reckless horse race through Hyde Park, a front row view of a boxing match. He recognized his old self in many of their stories, but he no longer cared about frivolous past times. Losing everything made him realize what was truly important. If he had family and friends, he was a wealthy man.
“How did you fare with the Fallen Angel?” one of the gents had asked another.
“One point for signing her dance card and another because it was a waltz. I almost earned five more for squeezing that luscious bum, but she blocked my attempt. She is quicker than I anticipated.”
Xavier had jeered them under his breath, disgusted by their childish game.
A third man joined the conversation. “How many points will I earn for bedding her tonight?”
The others had guffawed and declared him fit for Bedlam. Xavier had intended to move further away to escape their obnoxious braying when he overheard something that made his blood boil.
A blond fellow with hair falling into his eyes had emerged from the pack. “It is my turn, and soon you will eat your words. Miss Darlington is as good as conquered.”
Xavier wished he had punched the scoundrel then and there, but he hadn’t wanted to focus attention on the men’s sport. Now, he tried to shake off the memory and drew Regina closer. He would be damned if another man touched her. Any conquering would involve the two of them only, and it would be mutual. She was his. He was hers. And he was half mad with jealousy, which was a novel and unwelcome state for him.
Leaving her side only long enough to retrieve a glass of lemonade, he handed it to her. She wore an embroidered white muslin gown that most would describe as modest, but the sheerness of the fabric hinted at her peaches and cream skin hidden underneath.
“Thank you.” She accepted the drink with a bemused smile. “Would you like to walk with me?”
He nodded sharply. She took a sip of her drink before leading him on a leisurely circle around the perimeter of the room. Several times, Regina slanted a glance at him from beneath her lashes that was likely unintentionally seductive, but it aroused him all the same.
“Do you have something you would like to discuss, Miss Darlington?”
“I’m uncertain engaging in anything besides banal chitchat would be wise considering we are now on display.”
“What do you mean?” He tore his gaze from her to look about the room and realized several pairs of eyes were following them. “I suppose word of our engagement is making the rounds.”
A pink blush infused her skin, and her blond lashes fluttered. “Yes, that would stir a bit of interest, although I suspect the way you have been devouring me with your heated looks has the gossips giddy.”
“Was I devouring you, love? I hadn’t noticed.”
“You know exactly what you are doing, Mr. Vistoire, and I’d thank you to stop.” She paused in front of a deserted alcove and frowned at him. “After your insistence that we not give the impression we have made a love match, I’m surprised by your predatory behavior.”
Her rebuke sobered him. “Quite right.” He cleared his throat and gazed out at the crowd as he wrestled his jealousy into submission. “I spoke with Farrin today. He knows of our engagement. Nevertheless, I will strive to behave more like a gentleman in order to protect the secrets of my heart.”
She gazed at him oddly as if she didn’t believe he cared for her.
“Would you like to stand up with me for the next set,” he asked, “or would you prefer to savor your lemonade?”
“I believe I have a prior commitment.” She lifted her dance card to inspect it. “Yes, I’ve promised a quadrille to Mr. Quincy next, but I saved one dance for you as you wished.”
Xavier extended his hand to take her lemonade. She passed it to him, and he placed both of their glasses on an end table inside the alcove. “May I see your dance card?”
She smiled sweetly and complied with his request. Instead of signing his name in the empty slot, however, he reached to untie the ribbon securing the card to her wrist, stalked to the nearest unlit fireplace, and tossed it in the grate.
She gawked as he returned to her side.
“For heaven’s sake, I need that.”
When she tried to march to the fireplace to retrieve the card, he seized her above the elbow. She pointedly scowled at his fingers loosely circling her flesh. He wasn’t hurting her, and she could easily free herself, but he gentled his touch anyway.
His mouth was tight when he smiled. “Dancing with these...gentlemen will give them false hope.”
She glanced at the card teetering on the pile of birch logs. “But I promised.”
Linking arms, he urged her away from the ornate gilded fireplace. She huffed but abandoned her dance card to walk with him.
“They will still claim their dances,” she grumbled.
“And we will inform them of our betrothal.”
She darted a sideways look at him, opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.
Having put enough distance between them and the fireplace, Xavier turned to face her. “Do you have more to say, Miss Darlington?”
“I—no.” Her tongue flicked over her lips, leaving them moist and kissable. “Well, perhaps there is one item to discuss. I think I should honor my word to the gentlemen who signed my dance card.”
His gaze narrowed on her fingers toying with the cameo locket around her neck. He couldn’t make sense of her insistence on dancing with the blackguards. Not when she’d indignantly accused him of being no better than these rakes trying to seduce her. He suspected her changed position had nothing to do with e
njoying their company. “What do you have up your sleeve, Miss Darlington?”
“I am barely wearing sleeves, Mr. Vistoire.” She arched a haughty eyebrow as if daring him to contradict her.
Her stubbornness made him grind his teeth, but when he spoke, he did so with controlled politeness. “Perhaps my understanding of English adages is faulty, ma chérie. Allow me to clarify. What machinations do you have at work this evening?”
She sniffed. “If you are insinuating I am hiding something, you insult me.”
Evangeline entered the refreshment room and stopped to look around. She spotted them then headed in their direction. Regina tried to discreetly send a signal to her sister with a quick slash of her hand through the air, but Xavier seemed to be the only one to notice.
“I have spoken with every aging lord in attendance,” Evangeline said without pause. “None of them seem to know anything about Uncle Charles’s newest interest. He hasn’t written to his close associates either. The entire affair is peculiar. Did you learn anything from Lord Nayland?”
Regina sighed. “Evangeline, do you ever stop to consider your audience before speaking?”
Her sister blinked several times, looking back and forth between him and Regina. “I thought Mr. Vistoire knew about the—” She swept a quick glance around them and lowered her voice to a whisper. “He knows about the map already. I didn’t realize the rest was to be kept secret.”
“The rest?” Xavier asked as Regina groaned under her breath. “Let’s move to the terrace where we can speak in private.”
All three of them passed through the great room in silence and exited the house through a set of French doors. A few guests had wandered outside, but they appeared to be absorbed by their own business and didn’t glance in their direction. He ushered the women to a vacant corner of the terrace.
Xavier crossed his arms. “I knew you were hiding something. Tell me about the rest, and what any of this has to do with Lord Nayland.”
Regina’s chin lifted a fraction. He expected an argument from her, but perhaps she realized if she didn’t tell him what was going on, Evangeline would.
Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Gentlemen of Intrigue Book 1) Page 19
