“I’m not sure what you’re speaking of, Charity,” Hermione lied with a bright smile. “You don’t mean that business at the park this morning, surely?”
“Of course that’s what I mean, silly,” said Charity with a shake of her guinea-gold curls. “It’s all anyone is talking about, my dear,” she continued sotto voce. “You must have been utterly mortified. Bad enough for your father to lose your horses, but for Lord Saintcrow to demand them from you in the middle of the park.…”
As she spoke, Charity’s fan moved faster and faster. As if it were propelled by the power of her anticipation of Hermione’s embarrassment.
“I heard you were forced to walk home,” said Lady Felicity in a low voice. “That you hadn’t even brought your purse so you could take a hackney.”
“What nonsense is this?” Leonora demanded, moving to stand by Hermione’s side. “Of course she didn’t walk home. We took her up in our carriage with us.”
Because Leonora was a celebrated poet, and as such was still a bit of a novelty in most ton circles, the two women’s eyes widened at her championship of her friend.
“I’m sure we don’t mean anything untoward, Miss Craven,” Charity said, her face flushed. “Of course we didn’t.”
“It’s Mrs. Lisle,” said Hermione with a brittle smile. “You do remember that Leonora is married to Lord Frederick Lisle, now don’t you?”
Since both ladies had been overheard wondering aloud why an eligible parti like Freddy Lisle would ally himself to a poetess of all things, Hermione was fairly certain they did remember, but it felt good to call attention to the mistake given how gleeful Charity had been upon seeing Hermione enter the room.
“Of course, we remember,” said Felicity, blinking owlishly. “And of course we meant no disrespect to you, my dear Lady Hermione. Naturally, we wished to offer you our sympathies after all you endured earlier today. Especially given our long acquaintance.”
At that moment, Hermione saw Charity’s eyes widen, and her fan, which had begun to slow while Felicity spoke, began to beat furiously.
Turning, she saw that Freddy, who had gone off in search of Mainwaring and Trent as soon as they arrived, had been successful in his quest, and the two men flanked him on either side, like guards of a sort.
She took a moment to survey the three men, each handsome in his own way. Freddy, his burnished curls a little longer than was fashionable, was the tallest, and wore his evening dress like a second skin. The Duke of Trent, on the other hand, was every inch the military man for all that he’d left off his gold braid and scarlet coat for the understated elegance of an evening coat and an elegantly tied cravat.
But it was to Mainwaring that her eye was drawn. By any reasonable measure he was handsome, offering a darkly beautiful contrast to Freddy’s golden good looks. A little shorter than his friend, the earl even so held himself with the poise of a man who had known from an early age that he stood to inherit a peerage, and all that it entailed. There was no question of his authority, and despite her natural aversion to masculine power, Hermione felt herself shiver a little in the face of it.
When he bowed over her hand, she couldn’t help the stab of satisfaction at Charity and Felicity’s consternation in the face of his singling her out.
“Lady Hermione,” he said, holding her hand for a shade longer than was proper. “You are looking lovely this evening.”
Though she knew it was only Mainwaring, Hermione felt a blush steal into her cheeks. Clearly she was spending too much time in the man’s company if he was able to stir such a response from her.
Neither of them made mention of their encounter that afternoon in Half-Moon Street.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said when she’d recovered her breath. “That is kind of you. If I may say so you’re looking quite well yourself.”
With a smile that indicated he had guessed the direction of her thoughts, Mainwaring thanked her. “I hope you will save a waltz for me,” he said, pointing to the dance card dangling from her wrist. “As well as the supper dance. If they haven’t already been claimed, of course.”
Seeing that they would get no more of a reaction from Hermione or her friends, Charity and Felicity excused themselves and slunk away to share whatever rumor and innuendo they could with their fellow guests.
“What did those two have to say for themselves?” Trent asked once the gossips were out of earshot. “I could almost feel the enmity radiating from them.”
“I’ve never been a great fan of either lady,” Leonora said with a frown, “but I admit I had no idea they’d be so bloodthirsty in the face of potential prey.”
“Thank God we were here,” Freddy said, bowing slightly to Hermione. “Else who knows what they might have got up to.”
Hermione found herself wanting to object to being made out to be such a poor-spirited creature when Mainwaring surprised her by speaking up.
“I have little doubt that Lady Hermione would be able to hold her own against those two, or any other harpies who might decide to go after her.” At Hermione’s gasp, he winked at her. “This is, you must recall, the same lady who persisted in her quest to join a driving club until one finally invited her in. That is no small feat.”
“Oh yes,” she said, reminded of just why she might need the others’ protection, “I am such a force of nature that my own father thought nothing of wagering my personal property over a game of cards. Clearly, I am to be feared by all.”
“That was not your fault, dearest,” said Leonora, squeezing her shoulder. “In truth, I cannot think your father would have behaved any differently if you were Lord Herman Upperton instead of Lady Hermione. Your sex had nothing to do with it.”
“So it was merely a bad coincidence that his loss of my horses happened the night before I was to parade them through Hyde Park?” she asked with raised brows. “If so, it was a case of wretched bad luck on my part.”
“Trent and I were there at the gaming hell where he lost them,” Mainwaring said with a kindness that made Hermione’s gut clench. “And he spoke of your horses as if they were his own. In truth, I think he only thought of them as a means for him to keep playing.”
“I suppose that’s true enough,” she said glumly. “But I no longer have my horses all the same.”
“We came here tonight to get your mind off your loss,” Leonora said with a pointed glance at Mainwaring, who shrugged. “Now, I believe I saw Ophelia standing near the punch table. Shall we go in search of her?”
And before Hermione could object, she found herself being escorted across the ballroom.
“What was that for?” she demanded of her friend once they were a little ways away from the gentlemen. “I was enjoying Mainwaring’s company for a change.”
“I am sorry for that,” Leonora said in a low voice, “but something just occurred to me. And I thought it best not to speak of it within earshot of Freddy, for I feel sure he’d do his best to dissuade you from it.”
“From what?” Hermione whispered. She couldn’t imagine what sort of scheme her friend was concocting. Unbidden, the memory of her hand grasped in Mainwaring’s rushed back to her.
“Remember what I said about your father not paying any attention to whether you were a son or a daughter when he gambled away your horses?” Leonora asked as she pulled Hermione into a small alcove on the other side of the ballroom.
Wordlessly, Hermione nodded.
“What if you were a son?” Leonora asked, her eyes bright with excitement.
Clearly, her friend had lost her mind.
“But I am not a son, dearest,” said Hermione patiently. As if the fact that she was a female was something she needed to share with Leonora.
“But what if you were to pretend to be your father’s son?” the poetess explained. “To confront Lord Saintcrow?”
“But my father has no son.” Hermione wondered if she should fetch Freddy so that he could take Leonora home to rest. “Only me.”
“I don’t mean yo
u should call yourself his son. Just that you should visit Lord Saintcrow at his home. In a disguise of some sort. So that your reputation doesn’t become any more tainted. After all, it would be a scandal of the first order if you were to go to Lord Saintcrow’s home dressed as yourself. But if you were in disguise, then no one would know it was you.”
Hermione blinked. “But why would I visit Lord Saintcrow in the first place? His agreement with my father has already been made. And I hardly think he will change his mind based on my paying a highly improper call upon him.”
“Those are not the words of the same lady who convinced London’s most notorious driving club to let her become a member,” Leonora said, setting her fists on her hips. “What happened to that lady?”
“She was humiliated before all of London in the middle of Hyde Park,” Hermione said wryly. “Surely you don’t think that compounding that scandal with another will save me.”
“I think it could get you your horses back,” Leonora said firmly. “And the sooner you have them back, the sooner you can take your rightful place as a member of the Lords of Anarchy.”
“What are the two of you discussing in such heated tones?” Ophelia asked, stepping forward into their little enclosure. “Your father hasn’t done something else, has he?”
It was just like Ophelia to worry over her, Hermione thought with a warm heart. She really did have wonderful friends. Even if at the moment, Leonora seemed to have lost her wits.
But when Leonora explained her proposal to Ophelia, the other girl clapped her hands. “It’s perfect,” she said with a grin. “It’s been ages since we had an adventure. And if the three of us beard the lion in his den, then Lord Saintcrow will have no choice but to give your horses back.”
“The three of us?” Hermione echoed. “Are you mad? The three of us cannot descend upon Lord Saintcrow’s town house en masse!” She was not accustomed to playing the role of the voice of reason in their little group, but it was clear someone needed to.
“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, Hermione,” said Leonora, who now that she had someone to agree to her mad plan was only more enthusiastic about it. “It will be fun.”
“If you say so,” Hermione said with a sense of impending doom. “Though I draw the line at dressing like a man.”
If she’d learned one thing about her friends, it was that once they had the bit between their teeth, there was no way of getting them to change their minds. And if she were truly honest with herself, it had been a long time since the three of them had got up to any sort of adventure.
“Very well then, we’ll all three wear heavy veils,” Leonora said. “And we’ll simply convince Lord Saintcrow that your father was mistaken about the true ownership of the horses. I’m sure once it’s explained to him, he’ll see reason.”
“You saw him this morning,” Hermione said with a shake of her head. “I explained it to him very succinctly.”
“Yes, dearest,” Ophelia said softly. “But you said it to him in front of other men.”
Would Lord Saintcrow be more reasonable when confronted alone? When there was an opportunity for him to do the right thing and save his precious amour propre? Thinking back on the man’s behavior that morning, she thought it was possible.
Very well.
“Let’s do it,” she said, placing her hand in the center of their little circle, so that the other two ladies could place their own hands on top of hers.
“If nothing else, we’ll get an adventure out of it,” Leonora said with a grin.
Hermione certainly hoped so. And if truth be told, it could hardly be any worse than that morning’s debacle had been.
Five
When Jasper searched out Hermione for their waltz, he found her in deep conversation with Lord Payne, the current president of the Lords of Anarchy.
“I feel sure we can work something out, Lady Hermione,” Payne was saying with what to Jasper’s eye looked to be an overabundance of solicitude. Payne was married, so there was no question that his intentions, whatever they might be, were honorable. And despite the fact that the fellow had so far as he knew done nothing to disrespect Hermione, Jasper did not like the man.
“Thank you so much, Lord Payne,” Hermione said with a bright smile, her eyes shining with real excitement. “I hope there will be a way for me to retrieve my horses from Lord Saintcrow’s possession, but until then I will be very grateful for the loan of your bays.”
It had not gone without Jasper’s notice that she was looking exceptionally well this evening. For someone who had experienced a very difficult morning, she seemed in good spirits. If his mother or sisters had endured such a setback they’d have taken to their beds. Possibly for a week. Of course none of them would have considered joining a driving club in the first place, but that was beside the point.
Her gown, which was some shade between red and orange—he was no connoisseur of color—made a striking contrast against her dark hair, which was arranged with a series of wispy curls framing her face. A coiffure that fairly begged a man to brush them away from her cheek for a kiss.
Seeing the direction of Payne’s gaze, he observed that the other man had not failed to notice the way her gown set off Hermione’s very generous bosom. Time to cut this interview short, he thought with a frown.
“My apologies for the interruption,” he lied with a slight bow to Lord Payne, “but I must claim Lady Hermione for our waltz. You understand don’t you, old chap?”
Hermione’s lips pursed at the intrusion, but Lord Payne didn’t seem to mind. “Not at all, Mainwaring,” he said with a nod. “We were just finishing up. Club business, you understand.”
“One might have thought the club could have done something earlier today to stand up for its newest member,” Jasper said blandly. He did not care for the way Payne had implied that he had some sort of private matter to discuss with Hermione. “I feel sure Saintcrow might have backed down if he’d been faced with the whole of the Lords of Anarchy rather than a single defenseless lady.”
“I wasn’t defenseless,” Hermione said sharply, looking as if he’d betrayed her in some way. “I am quite able to take care of myself, thank you, Mainwaring. And it had nothing to do with the club.”
Jasper felt her frown like a stinging pinch, but he did not back down. “If that were the case then you would have been able to keep your horses, Lady Hermione.”
Lord Payne looked from one to the other with something like amusement. Which annoyed Jasper further. “We did not intervene, Mainwaring, because it looked to us like she already had champions in yourself and Lord Frederick. If you were not strong enough to stop Saintcrow from taking possession of her horses, then that is no fault of ours.”
Before Jasper could respond, Lord Payne gave a short bow. “I shall see you later in the week, then, Lady Hermione. Enjoy your dance.” And then he was gone.
The bastard hadn’t even stayed behind long enough to be contradicted.
“That was entirely unnecessary,” Hermione said with a glower. “Especially since you yourself have admitted that there was little anyone could have done to dissuade Saintcrow from taking my horses.”
The opening notes of a waltz sounded then, and in a strangely possessive mood, Jasper maneuvered Hermione onto the dance floor.
“I could have refused to take the floor with you, you know,” she continued pettishly. “With anyone else I would have done.”
“Then I am heartily glad you did not,” Jasper said, breathing in the soft floral scent of her. “And I did not mean to offend you. I was merely taking your side. It seems to me that your fellow club members have not shown you the sort of support to which you are entitled.”
“So you truly believe Lord Saintcrow would have been convinced to abandon his intent to take my horses if the Lords of Anarchy had intervened?” she asked, her brow furrowed.
“Well, perhaps not,” Jasper admitted. Affairs of honor, like wagers, were not something that a gentleman typically interfered with
. If Saintcrow said he’d won the horses from Hermione’s father, then that was all that most men needed to give the fellow wide latitude. “But they might have tried. What good is it for you to belong to a driving club if they do not advocate on your behalf?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. “Perhaps because I wish to test my driving skills against those of the best drivers in England? I didn’t join the Lords of Anarchy for the fellowship. Or even the safety of numbers. It was strictly about the driving.”
“And I suppose Payne lending a pair of his own horses is about the driving, as well?” Jasper asked, applying slight pressure at her waist as they moved with the dance.
“As a matter of fact,” she responded with a smile, “it is. I cannot drive without horses, and he has more than one pair. Thus I will take loan of his.”
He wanted to object on the basis that it was highly improper for a lady to accept such a gift from a gentleman, but since it was a loan, and therefore not precisely a gift, Jasper kept his mouth shut. And in his gut he knew his objection had nothing to do with the impropriety of the situation and everything to do with his growing possessiveness when it came to Hermione. If anyone was going to loan her a coaching pair, it should be him.
Unfortunately, he didn’t own a coaching pair and, given his lack of enthusiasm for driving, was unlikely to in the near future.
“Since this subject is so unpleasant for both of us,” Hermione continued, “let us speak of something else. Why don’t you tell me how your family go on?”
They finished the waltz engaged in polite chatter about his mother and sisters and her wardrobe discussions with Leonora and Ophelia.
When he brought her back to the edge of the ballroom once the dance was ended, he was about to make an excuse and flee when she gasped.
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