“Are you quite well, Lady Harrington?” he asked, his gaze finally catching hers for a brief moment. “You have been through a significant ordeal.”
"I am not one of those simpering misses who faints at the sight of anything remotely untoward," she retorted, ignoring the fact that she had almost fainted in the gazebo earlier. "I am quite well, I thank you." Were she honest with him, she would admit that her legs still trembled a little and that she would probably never get the sound of the gunshot from her mind, but instead she lifted her chin a fraction and gazed out across the floor.
“I can see that you are a strong woman, Lady Harrington,” came the reply, his words holding a touch of admiration. “I did not mean to insult you.”
A rush of heat touched her cheeks as she realized she had overreacted somewhat. "No, I quite understand. I am well, I thank you."
“Do you dance often?” he asked, looking down at her.
“Not at all,” she replied. “I enjoy watching others dance, my lord.”
He looked at her with question in his eyes. “I am surprised, I admit it.”
“Surprised?” she asked, finding his response not in the least perturbing. “You do not know me, then.”
“I know that you are one of the most beautiful ladies in the present company,” he replied, his dark, searching eyes looking into hers. “Why the gentlemen here would not seek you out is quite beyond me.”
Violet did not want to divulge him of such information, thinking that she would simply enjoy her dance with the Earl for, when he heard of her bluestocking tendencies, her propensity to offer her opinions too freely, as well as the number of refusals she had given in return of proposals, he would think of her much differently.
“We gentlemen are strange creatures, are we not?” he murmured, half to himself. “We expect all young ladies to meet such high standards in terms of accomplishment and beauty when, in truth, it is character that matters the most.”
Utterly astonished, Violet looked up at him and saw in his face that he was being completely truthful. A small smile curved his lips, making her heart quicken in her chest.
“You do not believe me, I see,” he said, softly. “I can assure you that not all gentlemen seek the same thing, my dear lady.”
“I do believe you,” she replied, quickly. “I will say that I am quite astonished at your articulation of such a sentiment, however. I have never heard it from a gentleman’s lips before.”
His smile widened as their eyes met, their gazes locked. In that moment, Violet forgot all about the murder, and what she had witnessed. All she saw was the Earl, feeling his strong arm about her as they waltzed across the floor. He was different from the other gentlemen of her acquaintance, his gaze honest as they continued to dance. Violet found that she could not look away, her heart beating loudly in her chest as she felt a sudden explosion of sensations deep in her belly.
“I am surprised we have not previously met, my lord,” she said as he swept her around the ballroom.
“I do know of your family, of course, Lady Harrington,” he replied. “However I typically am not one for dancing and therefore have never had the pleasure of an introduction to you.”
A blush rose in her cheeks as she realized the compliment he was paying her, then, in a dance.
To her very great surprise, the Earl held onto her for a second dance, and seemingly had every intention of keeping her on the floor for a third.
“We must not stay for a third, my lord,” she murmured, demurely. “Think of what would be said.”
For a moment, she hoped desperately that the Earl might ignore her words and the resulting gossip and would lead her onto the floor again, but his expression cleared and he bowed over her hand, dulling her hopes at once.
“You are quite right, of course,” he murmured, lifting his head. “I had forgotten, my dear lady. You have enchanted me with your company and I find myself sorry to be parting from your side.”
“I thank you for your consideration over my present state,” she replied, knowing that he had come to ensure she was suffering no ill effects after the scene she had witnessed. “It was most kind of you.”
He tilted his head, keeping her gaze. “Might I call upon you, Lady Harrington? In a few days time, perhaps? I must ensure that you are recovered after all you have endured.”
Her heart lifted a little, wondering if there might be hope of anything more between them. “I think that would be acceptable, my lord, and most kind of you.”
His smile was immediate, making her cheeks warm. “Tomorrow, then,” he replied, pressing a brief kiss to her palm that shot sparks up her arm. “Pray excuse me, Lady Harrington.”
Violet curtsied and watched him walk away, apparently unhurried. It was only when he was met by another gentleman, one she did not know, that she saw him begin to hurry across the floor, seemingly in a rush to quit the ball.
“My dear!”
Hearing her mother’s voice, Violet inwardly groaned, but turned and smiled at her, more than aware of what was to come.
“Did I see you dancing just now?”
“Yes, Mama,” Violet replied quietly, trying to keep her mother from making a scene. “It seems there are some gentlemen who wish to dance with me still.”
Her mother’s face did not lose its wide smile, the look of delight evident that she was well aware of who Violet had been dancing with.
“But that was an earl, was it not? The Earl of Wanfield?”
"Yes, Mama, it was," Violet murmured, quietly. "We were introduced in the gardens earlier when I went out to get air." Seeing her mother's expectant look, Violet sighed inwardly. "He is Lord Greville, Mama, and a very nice gentleman, but I pray that you do not suddenly expect an engagement or the like!"
Her mother's beaming smile did not disappear. "To think that my daughter has captured the interest of the Earl of Wanfield!" she exclaimed, clearly aware of the man. "I was just talking to my dear friend, Lady Mallen, when I saw you take to the floor. It was Lady Mallen who told me who the gentleman was. I would never have expected you to catch such a man, my dear!"
Violet refrained from rolling her eyes. “Why, thank you for your confidence in me, Mama. However, I have not caught him,” she replied, firmly. “It was just a mere dance.”
“Two dances,” the Duchess corrected, her eyes sparkling. “Did you not know that Lord Greville simply does not dance, Violet? He is not the kind of man who takes ladies onto the floor, and, by all accounts, you are the first lady in quite some time.” Her hands clapped together, drawing additional unwanted attention that brought a blush to Violet’s cheeks.
"Pray, quieten yourself, Mama," she warned, softly. "There is nothing to it, I swear it."
“Nonsense, girl,” her mother replied, haughtily. Her sharp eyes caught Violet’s, boring into her. “Now, you must promise me that if the gentleman asks for your hand, you will not refuse him.”
Violet tried not to laugh, shaking her head at her mother. "Mama, I am very sure that two dances do not signify that a proposal will be forthcoming. Just think, I have only just met the man!” She made to step away from her mother, growing weary of the circular conversation.
“That does not matter in the least,” her mother retorted, refusing to let Violet leave. “The Earl of Wanfield is a good man, with a great fortune and certainly a good choice for the daughter of a duke.” She glared at Violet, her mouth no longer curved into a smile. “Swear to me you will not refuse him, should he ask.”
Violet did roll her eyes this time, thinking that a proposal was the last thing that would ever happen. “I swear it, Mama. If he should ask me, I shall not refuse.”
Her mother’s beaming smile was back in a moment, her hand grasping Violet’s arm tightly. “Oh, how wonderful. Now, then, Violet, in the meantime if he should call on you, you will keep your opinions to yourself and be quite cordial with him. Should you do that, I am sure that in only a few weeks you shall be the Earl of Wanfield’s fiancée and then, oh how
happy I shall be!”
Wishing that her mother would be a little more discreet, Violet inclined her head and stepped away from her, retreating into the shadows in the corner of the room.
The truth was, she was unsure that she would ever see Lord Greville again, despite his promise to call on her. When it came to it, as wonderful as the dances had been, he was simply ensuring she was well after her ordeal, that was all. It was not something she could explain to her mother, of course, but she knew that the idea of marrying Lord Greville was nothing more than her mother's dream.
Deep down, Violet knew that her mother only had the best of intentions for her, but it was the way she jumped from a dance to matrimony that made Violet cringe. She was glad that Lord Greville had gone from the ball, for at least he was spared from being introduced to Marie Harrington, Duchess of Ware. What an embarrassment that would have been for both of them.
Rubbing her hands over her arms, Violet felt a slight chill rush over her as she remembered what she had seen that evening. She was not sure she would ever be able to rid herself of the sights and sounds of what she had witnessed, her stomach churning at the thought of Sir Whitby’s body in the bottom of the Thames. At least she could rest in the fact that Lord Greville, for whatever reason, was looking into the matter. A slight frown marred her brow as she considered why a gentlemen of such high standing would involve himself in such matters, for as an earl, he could spend his life in comfort doing whatever he pleased, aside from estate matters and the like of course. Most men such as he handed their responsibilities to stewards and the like, but Violet got the impression that the Earl of Wanfield was not that kind of man.
A slow smile curved her lips as she thought of him, seeing him in her mind’s eye as the music started up again. She had to confess that she found him a deeply attractive man, admitting that her heart had fluttered when he had led her onto the floor. She would never forget his kiss, even if it was merely a cover for whoever else had been in the gardens.
She felt quite changed after such an evening, as though she could never go back to who she had been before.
6
“Have you discovered anything?”
Joshua looked up at his friend as he asked the question. As Taylor walked in, an air of expectancy filled the study. The masculine room with its rich forest green walls and russet draperies was where Joshua spent most of his time.
“You may as well remove that hopeful look from your eyes, for no, I did not,” Taylor replied, sitting down heavily in a velour wingback chair beside the fireplace. “Is it too early for port?”
Joshua could not help but chuckle, standing and making his way to the sideboard, pouring both himself and Taylor a measure. “It is not too early, I do not think. Not in these circumstances.”
Accepting the glass with a murmur of thanks, Lord Taylor stared broodingly into the fire, evidently frustrated. Joshua, choosing not to sit back down behind his large mahogany desk, rather sat opposite his friend in another overstuffed chair.
“At least your dear Lady Harrington will still be abed,” Taylor muttered into his drink. “I am just sorry that we did not manage to catch both of those ruffians last evening.”
Joshua sighed heavily and took a large draught of his port, savoring the taste. He had been enjoying his dance with Lady Harrington last night, almost entirely forgetting that the reason he was doing so was so that he might protect her from the ruffians who had entered by the French doors. He was quite sure that the men in question had seen his sudden embrace with her in the gardens and had followed them both back to the ball.
Of course, then they also would have heard Lady Harrington's name from the lips of Lady Beauforth, which left her entirely at risk. The men he was chasing were not inclined to leave any loose ends, and, even if Lady Harrington had not seen or heard a single thing, they would take her life regardless. They were ruthless and entirely without compassion. If there was even a chance that Lady Harrington had witnessed anything, they would end her life without a moment's thought. At least, however, his own identity had been kept from them, which meant that he was able to continue his investigations without concern.
“She is still in danger, however,” he murmured, finishing his own thoughts aloud.
Taylor sighed and rubbed at his brow. “I am sorry,” he said again. “By the time I got my hands on one of the men, the other man had seen me and took to his heels.”
Joshua shook his head. “It is not your fault, Taylor.” He glanced over at his friend and saw the frustration on his face. “Where is the captive?”
To his surprise, Taylor grinned. “Nursing a sore head, down at the constabulary,” he replied. “Of course, he was not coming quietly and I had no choice but to encourage him along.”
“You hit him too hard, didn’t you?” Joshua chuckled, aware that Taylor could, at times, be quite heavy handed. The man was broad and very strong, and at least half a head taller than Joshua.
Lord Taylor shrugged, a smile on his lips. “He struggled.”
Joshua shook his head and laughed. “Then I presume we will not get much out of him for some time yet.”
“Give it until this afternoon,” Taylor replied. “That should give us enough time to consider what we might do about Lady Harrington.”
Unsettled at the thought of her in danger, Joshua nodded grimly. “If one of those two men from last evening is still about, then we are forced to consider that she is a target.”
“They might not be aware of what she looks like, although they will know her name by now.” Taylor shook his head, his expression grim. “And, on top of all of this, we are still at a loss as to what they had over Sir Whitby.”
“Or what he was meant to give to them,” Joshua added, growing more frustrated by the minute. This was steadily becoming more complicated. “How am I meant to protect Lady Harrington without making it more than obvious that I am involved in an investigation?”
“You could assign someone to watch over her?”
“She and her family would likely think something amiss and call the constabulary.”
“You could explain to the family the necessity?”
“I do not want them to know of my involvement in this.”
“You could call upon her?”
"You mean, court her?" Joshua did not dismiss the idea immediately, a sudden rush of desire filling him as he remembered how he had kissed her in the gardens. It had meant to be entirely for her protection, but even still, he had lost himself for a moment. She had been soft and sweet, and entirely unprepared for his kiss, which had made her all the more innocent in his eyes. Her response was slow but, gradually, she had begun to return his kiss. He could still see the mortification in her eyes when she realized that he had kissed her simply to shield her from view.
“But then again, that would not allow you to see her very often,” Taylor added, interrupting his thoughts. “Just for an hour or so each day and I am not inclined to consider that this would be adequate. What if they came for her when she was out shopping somewhere?”
“And I cannot be by her side every moment she is out of doors,” Joshua mumbled, trying to find a solution. “Nor at night, when someone might find a way inside when the house is abed.”
Taylor suddenly snorted with laughter, throwing his head back. "It sounds as though you will have to wed her, Greville! For that is the only way she will be by your side every moment, and certainly all through the night!" His eyebrows wiggled as he grinned at Joshua, but his words sparked no humor in Joshua at all.
In fact, they gave him pause.
"That may be, in fact, the very solution we have been looking for," he said, slowly. "Taylor, you are something of a genius!"
All mirth left Taylor’s face, and he stared blankly at Joshua.
“That is the only way I can protect Lady Harrington, is it not?” Joshua continued, thinking quite practically. “Besides, I have been thinking that I should wed very soon, mostly to keep Mother off my back!”
/> His mother, of course, was more than desperate for her son to wed, given that he carried the title and would need to produce an heir at some point. Joshua had never particularly been inclined towards matrimony, finding the idea of a courtship and betrothal a rather long and drawn out process, where much would be expected of him. He had been far too busy with his investigations to give it any serious consideration.
In addition, being a man with a high title meant that he had far too many fawning mamas with their daughters trailing after him, none of them appearing genuine in any way. For him to take a wife, he would require a lady with character, with strength and fortitude. Not some milk water miss, but rather a lady with her own mind. Perhaps one a little older than the new debutantes, given that he was not exactly in the first flush of youth himself.
Lady Harrington might be the perfect choice.
She was still young enough, but, from his knowledge of the family, had been out for some years. Why she was not married, let alone did not have her dance card filled, he was not quite sure, but she certainly was a beautiful woman and a wonderful dancer. In addition, her strength and ability to carry on after what she had witnessed told him that she possessed inner courage and resilience.
He had kissed her and, under his kiss, she had softened once her surprise had lessened. Joshua considered that she would not be a cold wife, a slight smile on his face as he remembered how her hands had found their way around his neck as he’d kissed her.
“You are not seriously considering this, Greville!”
“Why not?” Joshua shrugged, grinning at the horror-struck expression on his friend’s face. “You know that I need to marry at some point, and Lady Harrington is as good a choice as any. If I were to marry her quickly I would also rid myself of the process of a courtship, which I have been dreading.”
Taylor stared at him for a moment longer before shaking his head. “That is the most ridiculous proposal I have ever heard, Greville. The lady might not even wish to wed you! She is the daughter of a duke after all and, as such, does not have to wed below her title.”
Clue of Affection Page 4
