An Affair Without End (5 page)

“We were not fighting.” Oliver frowned at her. “I was—”

“Lecturing,” Vivian supplied. “And I walked away so I wouldn’t
start
fighting.”

“I could see that you were both doing an admirable job of not fighting.” Charlotte grinned. “Well, fortunately for you, almost everyone was looking at Lord Dunstan and Mrs. Carstairs, who were dancing much too close together. I think I was nearly the only person who saw Vivian storm off the floor.”

“It wasn’t that dramatic,” Vivian said with a grimace.

“Of course not. Even Aunt Euphronia said you were only giving yourself airs.”

“Good Gad.” Stewkesbury blanched.

“No! Is she here?” Vivian exclaimed, sitting up straighter and glancing around.

“Yes, but I’m happy to say that Lady Wilbourne invited Colonel Armbrister and his wife, so Aunt Euphronia is now firmly ensconced with them in the card room, enjoying a spirited game of whist.” Charlotte turned to Oliver. “I think you could safely leave Vivian in my hands now.”

“Yes.
Appearances
have been served,” Vivian added, whipping open her fan and plying it, not looking at the earl.

He glanced at her, his mouth tightening, then swept the two women a polite bow. “Very well. I shall take my leave of you. Lady Vivian. Cousin Charlotte.”

Vivian turned her head to watch Stewkesbury walk away. “Most of your relatives are enchanting, Charlotte, but that man . . .”

Charlotte chuckled. “The two of you are like oil and water.”

“More like fire and tender, I’d say. I don’t know how we shall manage the next few months, being thrown together so much.”

“Mm.” Charlotte studied her. “Yes, I would say it should be quite . . . interesting.”

A little to her surprise, Vivian found the rest of the evening curiously flat even though she danced with several other men, none of whom offered a word of criticism regarding her dress, her family, or anything else. Indeed, most of them spent their time spouting compliments, some sincere and some so extravagant as to make her want to giggle. But however pleasant it might be to hear flattery, the truth was it did not spark her interest. She supposed she must be
becoming jaded . . . or perhaps her tiff with Stewkesbury had simply spoiled her mood.

She did not speak to Stewkesbury again, though she spotted him once or twice across the room. He was generally engaged in conversation with some gentleman or another, though once she saw him dancing with Charlotte and another time with Lady Jersey. Vivian could not help but approve of his choice there. Not even Vivian’s influence could guarantee Camellia and Lily a voucher for Almack’s, of which Lady Jersey was one of the patronesses. As Lady Jersey was known for being something of a stickler, it would certainly help to firmly plant it in her mind that the Bascombes were the very proper earl’s cousins.

The next time they met, Vivian thought, she would mention it—though she had to admit that, given the way she and Stewkesbury usually managed to antagonize each other, he would probably take her praise entirely the wrong way. She could not help but smile as she thought of the way the two of them had fussed all through the dance. As she looked back on it, it seemed a trifle foolish the way they had squabbled all through the lovely waltz—especially given that she had been enjoying dancing with him. Who would have thought that being in Oliver’s arms as they whirled about the floor would have felt so . . . well, intriguing.

“I hope that smile is for me,” a masculine voice murmured.

Vivian returned to the present with a start and looked at the man standing in front of her. She had been chatting with him when she had caught sight of Stewkesbury dancing with Lady Jersey. Well, chatting was not quite right—Alfred Bellard had been telling her a long and uninteresting story of his chance meeting with an old chum from school, which was precisely why she had been glancing about the room and caught sight of Oliver.

She could hardly tell the man that not only had her smile
not
been for him but that she hadn’t heard what he had said for the past few minutes. Fortunately, Vivian had been deflecting the hopes of young men for some years, and she had grown adept at it. With a snap she unfurled her fan and raised it, glancing across it flirtatiously.

“Now, sir, you know I cannot tell you that. Perhaps I was merely thinking of something else.”

He raised his hand to his heart, as accustomed as she to this meaningless social back-and-forth. “You are most unkind, my lady. Pray give me some small crumb of your favor.”

“As if you desire even a crumb of my favor,” Vivian retorted. “When I saw myself that your eyes were all for Miss Charleford this evening.” She had seen him talking to Sally Charleford not too long before, and there was no harm in redirecting his interest that way.

“Untrue, untrue,” he said, but she could almost see the wheels turning as he contemplated this display of interest on his part—and whether he liked the girl more than he had realized.

Vivian let out a little laugh and made another light remark, then deftly removed herself from the conversation. She made her way through the crowd, giving a smile or a nod when someone managed to catch her eye. It occurred to her that perhaps she was more tired from her trip than she had realized. Perhaps she should simply go home and get a good night’s sleep. She would need all her energy when the Season got into full swing.

Vivian began her good-byes, making sure to take her leave of Charlotte and the hostess, and strolled out into the foyer to get her cloak from the footman. As she turned to allow the servant to lay the cloak over her shoulders, she saw the Earl of Stewkesbury walking toward her.

She could not hold back a giggle when Oliver hesitated,
his face a mingling of surprise and apprehension. “No, there’s no need to avoid me,” she told him. “I shall not bite, I assure you.”

Stewkesbury smiled, faintly abashed. “It takes a man of sterner mettle than I to face a lady’s wrath.”

“My wrath has completely dissipated. Did you not know that your words leave my head almost as soon as they enter?”

He let out a little huff of laughter. “Always have to have the last word, don’t you, my lady?”

“I find it’s generally more fun,” Vivian agreed. “Come, Stewkesbury, let us cease our warfare. I scarce remember what we tussled about, as is usually the case.”

“Of course.” He gestured toward the footman and waited for the man to bring his greatcoat and hat. “In the spirit of reconciliation, I hope you will allow me to see you to your carriage.”

“That is kind of you.” Vivian knew that her coachman would be waiting for her nearby, watching for her emergence from the house. But men always liked to think that a lady could not make her way without assistance, and allowing Stewkesbury to help her would aid in smoothing over any hard feelings left from their contentious waltz.

So when the earl shrugged on his coat, a rather subdued garment sporting only one shoulder cape, she put her hand on his arm and walked with him out the front door. They paused, glancing around for Vivian’s carriage. Just as Vivian spotted her trim vehicle, a shriek pierced the night.

Vivian jumped, startled, and beside her the earl was thrown so off-balance that he let out a low oath.

“Crimey!” the footman standing at the base of the steps exclaimed, in his excitement sinking back into the Cockney accent of his youth.

All three of them, as well as most of the coachmen in the area, swung to look in the direction of the scream. A
short distance up the sidewalk, a woman clutched at her throat as the figure of a man ran away, melting into the shadows. Another man ran past the woman and followed the disappearing figure. The woman sank to her knees, letting out another howl.

Stewkesbury was down the steps in an instant and running to her. Vivian followed close behind him, trailed by the Wilbournes’ footman. The earl crouched beside the woman, taking her arm to steady her. “Madam, are you all right?”

“No! No!” she cried, clutching at him. Wildly she waved an arm behind her. “He took my diamonds!”

Both Vivian and Oliver looked in the direction she pointed, but all they could see was the dimly lit street stretching into the darkness. “I’m sorry; I’m afraid he’s gone.”

This remark sent the woman into more wails. “No! He cannot get away! Oh, what will I do? What will I tell Charles? Those were his grandmother’s jewels!” She burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.

Oliver shot Vivian a harried glance.

“Lady Holland.” Vivian, recognizing the woman, stepped forward and leaned down. “Please, you must get up. You’ll ruin that lovely cloak.” Vivian reached out to take the woman’s arm to tug.

Oliver’s brows rose in amazement as those mundane words seemed to penetrate Lady Holland’s emotional storm. She nodded and gulped, then wrapped her hand around Vivian’s arm and began to pull herself to her feet. Quickly Oliver grasped her other arm and hauled her up.

At that moment the man who had given chase to the thief came trotting back, panting. “Sorry . . . my lady . . .” he gasped out. “I tried . . . but I couldn’t . . . catch up with him. Fast little dev—um, man.”

“You are Lady Holland’s driver?” Oliver asked, and the man nodded.

“Yes, sir. I went after him, but . . . I’m sorry.”

“I am sure you did all that could be expected.”

“I don’t know as his lordship’ll say that,” the man responded gloomily.

“Did you see what happened?” Oliver went on. “Did you get a look at the man?”

The driver shook his head. “No, I saw her ladyship coming, and I was climbing down, see, and going around the carriage to give her ladyship a hand. Then I heard something funny, and her ladyship screams. There was footsteps off and runnin’. I ran around the carriage and took off after him. Heard his footsteps, got a sight of his back ’fore he hit the shadows. He was a fast one. Little.”

Oliver nodded. “Well, get back atop. We’ll put Lady Holland into the carriage and escort her home.” As the man responded to the authority in Oliver’s voice and started back toward his carriage, the earl turned to Vivian. “Why don’t you get Lady Holland settled in the carriage? I shall tell your coachman to follow us and take you home from there.”

“Yes, of course.” Vivian turned back to the other woman. “Come, let us get into your nice warm carriage? It’s far too cold out here for my taste, even with a cloak on.”

Lady Holland nodded, still sniffling, and allowed Oliver to hand her up into the carriage before he left in search of Vivian’s coachman. Vivian sat down beside the older woman, picking up the lap robe and laying it across them both, carefully tucking it in around Lady Holland. Lady Holland smiled wanly and wiped the tears from her cheeks. A pleasant-looking middle-aged woman, she looked rather the worse for wear now. She was pale, with a livid scratch where the diamonds had been torn from her neck.

“Charles will be so furious.”

“At the man who stole your necklace,” Vivian said
soothingly. “Not at you. He will be glad that you were not injured in the robbery.”

Lady Holland appeared as dubious as the coachman had about their lord’s reaction to the thievery. “He didn’t want me to wear them tonight. He told me it was too dangerous, what with all these robberies that have been taking place. But I insisted. I mean, after all, what good are diamonds if one never wears them?”

“My sentiment exactly.”

“Yes, but Charles is a man. And so terribly practical. But really, it’s not as if he doesn’t drop that much any night at the tables. I told him he lost far more than that at faro, and I said I was going to wear them no matter what he wanted. And now he’ll blame me . . .” She finished in a wail, and by the time Stewkesbury swung back into the carriage, she was in a full spate of tears again.

Oliver raised his eyebrows at Vivian, and it was all she could do not to grin. Pressing her lips firmly together, she turned to Lady Holland, patting her soothingly on the back. “There now, it’s been a perfectly horrid evening, hasn’t it? But soon we’ll have you back home and safe, won’t we, Stewkesbury?”

“Yes, of course. There’s no danger now, my lady.”

“It was so awful!” Lady Holland slowed into little hiccupping sobs. “I was just walking to the carriage, and all of a sudden, he was right there in front of me!” She gave an expressive shudder, but the tears had stopped.

“What did he look like?” Oliver asked.

The woman gazed at him vaguely. “Why, I don’t know. Just ordinary, I suppose. Does it matter?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Lord Holland wishes to engage a Bow Street Runner to try to find the thief and the jewels. It sounds as if they were quite valuable. A description of the
thief would help the Runner find him. Was there anything distinctive about him? A scar? What color was his hair?”

“I—I’m not sure. It happened so quickly . . .”

“Just close your eyes for a moment, Lady Holland, and relax,” Vivian suggested. “Now, think about the moment when he appeared in front of you. Was he as tall as Lord Stewkesbury?”

“No.” Lady Holland shook her head. Then she opened her eyes, looking rather pleased with herself. “No, not nearly that tall, just a bit taller than I am. So he must have been a medium sort of height. And I remember his hair now. I mean, well, I don’t remember it because I didn’t see it. He had on a cap pulled low, and I couldn’t see his hair. Most of his face was in the shadow of the cap, as well.”