From the looks of him, Kendale could not decide whether to disapprove of the idea, which meant he appreciated the conundrum. Normally Kendale adhered to rigid notions of honor, but Cassandra’s suspicious independence put her outside any strict way of viewing those ideals.
“It is a different sort of business that I must conclude with her. Much less pleasurable.”
Across the drawing room, Cassandra strolled away from the windows. With the grace and self-possession befitting the daughter of an earl, she attached herself to a small knot of guests. Within two minutes, she was at its center. After her addition to the group, both the conversation and guests’ expressions changed from careful and wary to free and lively.
“Hell of a way for Southwaite to start his marriage. Now it will be almost impossible to force the break between his wife and that woman,” Kendale said.
Yates almost explained the obvious—that Southwaite was too much in love to refuse his new wife anything. He had married Miss Fairbourne, hadn’t he? Despite her common birth? Most of the guests did not approve of that any more than they did Cassandra Vernham.
“I suppose we must do our duty as charged.” Kendale raked his dark hair back with his fingers. “Hell of a thing.”
“She is holding her own without our help.”
“We promised the bride.”
“So be it. Fortunately, you will be at your post only until breakfast. I must take over then. We should line up in a quarter hour, I think.”
“What am I supposed to talk about? Should I ask her about the most recent gossip attached to her name?”
“Are you even aware of it? I had no idea you followed the scandal sheets, Kendale.”
“I read nothing and heard nothing. Yet I still know what the gossip would say. As do you.”
Indeed, Yates did. “The rumors remain vague. The men remain nameless,” he said, thinking aloud, once more calculating his obligations as a gentleman.
He would not mind knowing how true those rumors had been. While not complete, her fall had been far enough to make her fair game for his imagination, and thus unacceptable as a friend for the new Lady Southwaite. Presumably Southwaite would deal with that problem in the following weeks.
Cassandra smiled and sparkled as she extricated herself from her current group and walked away, greeting all whom she passed.
Kendale forced his scowl to fade. “Here I go. Fifteen minutes, you said. You must take over if it is one second more.”
Cassandra prayed that the servants would call the party to breakfast. Now.
Until ten minutes ago, she had managed the forty guests in the drawing room very well. Then her situation had turned hellish. For reasons she could not fathom, Viscount Kendale, one of Southwaite’s best friends, had not only addressed her but had decided to stick to her side.
She walked this way and that, and he followed like a shadow. She tried to engage other guests in conversation, and his face hovered above her shoulder. Anyone generous enough to throw a question his way received a minimal response. To say that polite conversation was not one of Lord Kendale’s skills would be a kind way to describe his lack of social grace.
He had served in the army, so one expected better of him. Most officers were very amiable. Presumably, those who were not avoided society. Kendale’s unexpected inheritance of the title meant he could hide no longer. Someone must have advised that at parties he attach himself to a woman who could cover his artlessness.
It appeared that today he had chosen her.
She stopped trying to converse with others, in order to spare everyone. She and Kendale stood near the windows while a long silence stretched.
“Regrettable weather.” It was the third time he had commented on the rain. His handsome face remained a stoic blank, and his green eyes looked over the gathering.
“Fortunately, this is an expansive and comfortable house, so inclement weather will not dull the festivities.” If he insisted on that topic, she would make the best of it. “Also, the storm should keep any boats carrying spies from trying to slip to the coast, and thus ensure that Southwaite and you do not have to leave, and ride out to save the realm in the middle of his wedding day.”
Kendale’s expression firmed. His eyes turned steely. “Our efforts to secure the coast from uninvited guests are small and uncelebrated, but I trust not worthy of your mockery.”
“I do not mock you, Lord Kendale. Indeed, I am one of the few who knows enough about your activities to give what celebration there may be. Your bravery in this summer’s earlier adventure has been described to me. Also, I would never insult a man whom I know my dear friend Emma holds in such high esteem.”
His gaze shifted to the bride and groom. “I would have preferred if Miss Fairbourne had been discreet about that. It should not be fodder for gossip by—” He caught himself. He drank more punch.
By such as you. That was what he had started saying before better sense stopped him. That, or something worse perhaps.
Really, the man was not to be borne. Here she was, doing a good deed by tolerating him, and he had the effrontery to almost insult her outright.
“Do you fear that I am going to whisper about you to my lovers, Lord Kendale? Sell your name to a French spy?”
“Nowadays, there is no telling who is a French friend or a French spy, when you get down to it.”
“Then let me reassure you, sir. Emma’s confidences are never fodder for my gossip, to anyone. Even notorious women have their loyalties. Your own experiences with members of the fairer sex have taught you that by now, haven’t they?”
“I have been spared experiences with women who are determined to be notorious. Considering the consequences that I have seen for other men, I do not regret whatever else I may have forgone as a result.”
“How fortunate for you. I should conclude that you are very particular about your feminine acquaintances and be flattered by your attention today. Although, instead I am tempted to wonder if you have had experiences with any women, besides your relatives and governess, that is.”
Kendale’s eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to respond. A hand came to rest on his shoulder in a gesture of bonhomie, stopping him.
“Forgive me for interrupting, but it appeared you two were about to have a spectacular row.” Viscount Ambury smiled at his friend, then at Cassandra. “If there will be fisticuffs, we should all repair to the privacy of the terrace. I will referee, and the rain be damned.”
Kendale’s face flushed. His embarrassment only made him angrier. Cassandra looked toward Emma to see if the little argument had been noted by the dear friend whose wedding day should never be so blemished.
She tried to cover the awkward tension with humor. “I dare not damn the rain, Lord Ambury. This dress would not survive a drizzle, let alone the downpour out there now.”
Ambury’s remarkable blue eyes inspected her from head to toe. His gaze lingered on how the diaphanous, filmy cream silk flowed from the high waistline of her dress.
“Too true. I daresay that when wet that dress would stick to you like the garments do on Greek statues. Alluring to be sure, but perhaps not appropriate for a wedding party.” He turned to his friend, who had retreated into surly silence. “Kendale, perhaps you would take Lady Lydia something to drink. She appears parched over there.”
Lord Kendale left. Cassandra rather wished he hadn’t. Ambury was one of the people she had been trying to avoid. Now here he was, right in front of her, wearing a sardonic smile that had her wondering just how bad this was going to be.
She did not know Kendale well, but she did know Ambury. For a good many years, until this summer, their conversations had been restricted to brief greetings. During the last few months a private subject had arisen, however, that required more words.
When she had sold her jewels last spring at Fairbourne’s auction house, Ambury had won the
best pieces, a pair of sapphire-and-diamond earrings. Ever since, he had put off paying for them.
Their communications on the matter had been in writing, and stiffly polite. However, in a fit of panic after her brother’s visit two days ago, after deciding to help Aunt Sophie run away, she had jotted off an intemperate missive full of demands and accusations.
With any luck, he had not read it yet. Not that his reaction would change the essential truth of the history they shared, and the real reason for the silence as they faced off right now. Ambury detested her because of the role she had played in the life of one of his friends.
His gaze and stance communicated the expected disdain, but also an undeniable masculine interest that surprised her. His presence exuded challenge, and his eyes dared her to—what? Play with the fire that smoldered in spite of their both knowing it should not? A touch warmer, a bit more dangerous, and his attention would imply that she could be had for a smile, and was amenable to whatever he contemplated.
“Thank you for arranging for my escape,” she said. “I so want to speak with Lady Hollenfield, but I dared not bring Lord Kendale along.” She angled her body away so he would know his further attendance was not required.
“Forgive Kendale. We are hard at work improving his manners. I am confident that in a year or two he should not provoke more than three rows at any wedding he attends.”
She laughed lightly at his wit. To her dismay, he took that as an invitation to walk with her. She glanced askance at his profile. “Did you come down from town yesterday, Ambury?”
“I arrived yesterday, but I rode in from Essex.”
“Then you have not been in town for a while?”
“I am still involved in family matters that keep me from town most weeks, as I explained in my letters.”
If he had not been in town, he probably had not seen her letter, in which she accused him of using his family as an excuse in order to avoid paying her for the jewels.
“Are you riding back to town after the breakfast?”
“I still have business at the family seat. I expect to be in town by Monday, however.”
At which point he would read a letter that had been in his house for more than a week. Forthright would be a diplomatic word with which to describe its tone.
The musicians ended one piece. The absence of music left a sudden void.
“Will you be playing today?” she asked, seeking a safer subject. Ambury was known to be a superb violinist. It was an unexpected talent for a man-about-town reputed to have no productive avocation.
“I rarely do in public.”
“Not even for your good friend and his bride?”
“I have already played for them. Privately.”
“That must have been very romantic.”
“Perhaps. I would not know.”
“Come now, do you expect me to believe that you have never used your music to make a lady pliable? You are not known as a man to resist pressing his advantage in the games of love.”
“Is that how we will pass the time? Comparing each other’s reputations? Or will I be constrained as a gentleman from participating in that topic?”
What a prickly response! Deeming polite discourse impossible, she began easing away in the direction of Lady Hollenfield.
Ambury remained with her step for step.
“I do not know why Kendale addressed me at all,” she said when it became clear he would not leave. “He does not care for me any more than the rest of your circle do. You are now being suspiciously solicitous in his stead. Surely, with all the women here, you can entertain yourself for the remaining time with more appealing company than me.”
“I doubt that. The very appealing image of that dress soaked in rain has lodged in my head now, giving you the advantage over the others.”
“If you focus on the history of the woman who wears it, that should remove the image quickly enough.”
He frowned, as if trying to follow her instructions. Those blue eyes scrutinized her slowly. The examination proved so thorough that she felt naked when he finally gazed in her eyes. He flashed a devastating, devilish smile. “Alas, your advice made it worse. Now the dress has a lovely body inside it, and I’m damned if anything else matters.”
“I am not a schoolgirl mesmerized by your charm, Ambury. All the bold flirting that you can muster will not make your attention any less peculiar.”
He laughed lightly, but his eyes told another story. Ambury could smile ever so amiably while the daggers within his wit sliced one to shreds. She worried that he honed the edges of those blades now.
“You are too clever for us. The truth is that Lady Southwaite asked Kendale and me to make sure you were not left stranded, what with her new husband’s relatives making up most of the party. Do not let her know I told you. She meant well.”
How like Emma to arrange this. Unfortunately, Emma did not know that Kendale and Ambury were the last people in this chamber to choose for the mission.
She gave her full attention to the man dragooned into what had undoubtedly been an unwelcomed duty. Too handsome for his own good, and far too charming for most women’s safety, Ambury turned heads when he walked into a chamber. As was often the unfair case with such men, maturity only made him more appealing.
He must be over thirty now, but his dark hair had not thinned at all. The faint lines that had begun to etch paths on either side of his mouth only brought attention to how masculine and well formed that mouth appeared. His lean strength flattered the current fashions, which he wore with a flair that managed to convey both fastidious care and self-confident indifference.
His dark blue, deep-set eyes regarded her just as directly as she did him. Everyone always said that his eyes reflected his good humor, but his amusement right now contained much that did not flatter her.
“Emma does not know why you two would never welcome such an obligation,” she said. “You could have explained it and been free of the chore.”
“Far be it from me to describe your fall from grace to her if you chose not to do so. I did think it an odd omission in a friendship so close.”
“Emma does not care about ancient history or stale gossip. She is a rare person, who accepts people as she finds them and who forms her own judgments without the influence of others. It was generous of you to agree to her request. I do not require your aid, however.”
“We gave our word. You are stuck with one of us.”
If she had to suffer Lord Kendale again, there really might be a row. Since it appeared Ambury had not read her letter yet . . . “How long must we tolerate each other’s company?”
“She requested our attendance on you through breakfast.”
“That long?”
“Afraid so.”
He would be at her elbow for hours, it seemed. What a discomforting nuisance.
The Counterfeit Mistress Page 32
