Lady Beresford's Lover (11 page)

R
upert glanced at his pocket watch as he hurried down the steps of Whitehall. It was the middle of the afternoon. His first stop would be Lady Telford’s house. He hoped there was a chance Vivian had not given up on him. Hailing a hackney, he climbed in.

Realistically, he couldn’t be too upset about the time the negotiations had taken. After hours of haggling, he’d won the vote to push forward his bill to the full House of Lords. Rupert hoped Vivian would be as happy as he was.

Several minutes later, he jumped down to the pavement, threw some coins to the driver, and took the steps two at a time. A footman answered his knock, and Rupert presented the man his card. “Is Lady Beresford at home?”

“Sorry, my lord. She left not a half hour ago.”

Drat.
He had missed her. Well, it was no more than he deserved. “Please tell her I called.”

Well, blast it all. At least he had tried, and she would know he came, even if it was several hours later.

In no hurry now, he strolled to his house, letting himself in. On the round onyx hall table lay a letter placed on the silver salver. His title was written in a strong yet feminine hand. Rupert picked it up and carried it to his study, where he popped open the seal.

Rupert held the paper to his nose. It had her scent. He could almost feel the warmth of her fingers as she penned the note. He may have missed her, but Robert had said she was once again accompanying Phoebe to this evening’s entertainment. Rupert would apologize and tell her everything that had occurred.

Glancing at the mound of paper on his desk, he debated attempting to find her or going to his club. Discretion won. About twenty minutes later, he was passing White’s when Lord Sudbury came down the steps.

“Stanstead.” The older man waved. “I heard about your success. Congratulations, my boy. Your grandfather would have been proud of you.” The older gentleman paused. “He wouldn’t have agreed, but he would have been proud.”

How could Rupert have forgotten? Sudbury had been friends with old Lord Stanstead. The grandfather who was no blood relative to Rupert, but his mother’s husband’s father. In truth, blood relatives or not, none of his grandfathers were anything to brag about. They all colluded to keep his parents apart, and for years had succeeded. “Thank you, sir. I believe the world is changing and we must change with it.”

“All you young people say the same thing. Never mind that. You received my invitation?” A hopeful look appeared on Sudbury’s countenance. “My sister is visiting for several weeks and wanted to entertain. She normally resides in the country. Not my usual thing; it will be rather tame,” he said, as if to excuse the nature of the masquerade. “Still, one must maintain good relations with one’s family.”

Rupert grinned. “I not only received it, but accepted.”

“Good, good. It was hard to know who to invite. M’sister’s got definite opinions on what should and should not go on at a party.”

He didn’t say anything for a few moments. Sudbury was not only an old roué but an inveterate gossip as well. Nevertheless, Rupert wanted him to issue an invitation to Vivian. “If you are searching for other guests, I can recommend Lady Telford. She is in Town with her two charges, a widow and a young lady she’s bringing out.”

The man’s eyes brightened. “Lady Telford, you say? I had no idea. I haven’t seen her in an eternity. Thank you, Stanstead.” Sudbury turned to go, then stopped. “What is her direction?”

“Mount Street.”

“Good of you to tell me. M’sister, you know, will be pleased.”

As Sudbury strolled off down the street, Rupert wondered if the man had carried a torch for her ladyship all these years. At least now he knew Vivian would be invited.

 

Vivian’s hands grew damp and her stomach clenched as she entered the land agent’s office. Even though she had her maid with her, it was not the
done
thing for a lady to visit a business office. She should have had him come to her. Yet if she had, then everyone would know what she was doing, and she didn’t want to answer the questions that were sure to be asked.

Of course, her cousin and Silvia knew she did not intend to remain at Beresford, but Vivian had not been specific about her plans. Clara probably assumed Vivian would marry, and that was not going to occur.

A clerk quickly jumped to his feet. “May I help you, ma’am?”

She straightened her shoulders. “Yes, you may. I am here to see Mr. Jones regarding several property descriptions he sent to Mr. Trevor for my review.”

“My father is not in at the moment, but I’m sure I can assist you.” The younger Mr. Jones opened the door to a room filled by a large rectangular table and several chairs. “If you will make yourself comfortable, I’ll fetch some tea and biscuits for you and your companion.”

She entered the room with Punt following closely behind her.

“Speaking of companions,” Punt said, “I don’t suppose you’ve given any thought to who is going to be yours?”

“Not yet. I thought I’d purchase the property then speak to my cousin about indigent relatives who might require a position.”

Punt snorted. “And when do you plan to tell your mother?”

Leave it to Punt to ask that question. Mama would not approve of Vivian setting up her own household. “When it’s too late to change anything. The first person she will tell is Papa, and I do not want his interference.” Which would be forceful and loud. She almost winced at the thought of confronting him. “As it is, I’m surprised I haven’t heard from my father.”

“I did think he’d have another match in mind.” Her maid waited until Vivian had selected a chair, then sat next to her.

“At the moment, he is too concerned with a match for his prize bitch.” Which turned out to be a very good thing indeed.

Mr. Jones returned, balancing a tray in one hand and a sheaf of folders in the other. Once she and Punt had consumed their cups of tea and a few biscuits, he arranged the files on the table.

“I have them sorted by location with relation to London, my lady.”

“Thank you.” Punt handed Vivian her notes on each of the properties in which she was interested. “You might wish to look at my thoughts on which ones I think will suit me best. At some point in the next few weeks, I will travel to the estates closest to Town.”

“Very good, my lady.” He scanned the papers she’d given him. “Excellent. I shall have the answers to your questions in the next few days.”

Vivian rose. “Thank you. Please send them directly to me.”

The young man jumped up, almost turning over his chair. “I shall, my lady.”

That had gone well and was not nearly as fraught with difficulties as she had imagined it would be. On the other hand, the elder Mr. Jones had not been present. Perhaps Vivian would be better off dealing with the son on a permanent basis. He appeared anxious to acquire his own clients.

Vivian arrived back to her cousin’s house in time for tea. When she entered the morning room, Clara held a large gilt-edged card and what looked to be a letter.

She glanced up. “Well, this was a surprise.”

“What is it?”

“We’ve been invited to Lord Sudbury’s masquerade. Normally, I would not entertain taking either you or Silvia, but his sister, Lady Mansfield, wrote me a lovely letter assuring me it would not be one of his lordship’s usual parties.”

“What on earth does that mean?” Vivian sat next to her cousin, who handed her the letter. “Goodness, how bad is his lordship?”

“He was always a bit of a rake. Since he never wed, he had taken to enjoying a different circle of people.”

“I understand.” Or she thought she did. Nevertheless, she did not wish to inquire further.

“It’s a shame he has not had the benefit of the restraining hand of a lady to guide him,” she mused.

Vivian bit back a bitter laugh. She’d had no luck at all in
restraining
her husband. “Indeed?”

“Oh yes. Gentlemen have no notion how to go on without a female showing them the way. He’d asked for my hand, you know.”

Vivian had not, but was certain she was about to be told. “I thought your husband was your one true love.”

“In many ways he was, and we had an excellent marriage.” An odd look that Vivian could not decipher came into Clara’s eyes. “It was a difficult decision. I was enamored of both of them, you see. For different reasons, naturally, but my papa picked George over Sudbury, and there you have it. I always thought he would find another lady and wed, yet he never did.” She folded her serviette. “I blame myself.”

That was interesting. Could Clara still be interested in his lordship? “When is the masquerade?”

“In a few days. We will have to decide on costumes immediately. I might have some things in the attic if the moths haven’t got to them.”

Tea arrived with the small sandwiches Clara preferred over biscuits. Perdita showed herself, sitting hopefully at Clara’s feet.

Vivian poured. “Where is Silvia?”

“Gone to an outing to Richmond with a group of other young people. I don’t expect to see her for another hour or so. Lord Oliver arranged the party.”

“It looks as if his lordship is growing fond of her.”

“Yes.” Clara took a sip and frowned.

“Is something wrong with the tea?”

“Of course not. I am not sure I like Lord Oliver. He is not at all like his parents and the older brother. Very unsteady. I trust Silvia will keep her head about her. She is not normally a fanciful girl.”

Vivian thought back to the conversation she’d had with her friend. “I think she will be able to separate the wheat from the chaff, as it were.”

Clara tugged on the bell-pull and Barnes immediately stepped into the parlor. “My lady?”

“I want the trunks of old clothes in the attic brought down here.”

He bowed. “Yes, my lady.”

“There now, we’ll see what we have.”

An hour later, Clara had pieced together her costume, and held up what looked to be a long, sheer piece of cloth. “This is perfect for you.”

“I beg your pardon?” Vivian’s throat was so tight she had trouble croaking the words out. “There is nothing to it.”

Her cousin glanced at the fabric. “I suppose you could wear a shift underneath.”

“I—I could not. Truly, Clara, I would be almost naked.”

“Come now.” Her cousin advanced upon her. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’m sure it is not as bad as all that.” She held up the cloth, which was much thicker than Vivian had first thought. “There is a black wig as well. No one will know who you are.”

Clara called for their maids, and before Vivian knew it she was gowned as the Egyptian queen Cleopatra.

“I found some of that kohl as well, my lady.” Punt stood back, nodding her head approvingly. “Add a few bangles and a gold necklace, and it will be perfect.”

If only there were a mirror in the room, Vivian could object to the details of the costume, which she was sure was too scant. On the other hand it might not be as bad as she thought. Her maid would not allow her to go out in anything scandalous. “If you think it will be all right?”

“As rain, my lady.”

Vivian had never been to a masquerade before. Would Lord Stanstead be there? If he was, could she be with him and pretend she was someone else? Another lady entirely?

 

Later that evening, Phoebe Evesham’s town coach arrived for Vivian to carry her to the Worthington’s party precisely as Silvia and Clara started toward their carriage.

Clara shooed Silvia into the town coach, then turned to Vivian before entering the carriage herself. “I am so pleased you and Phoebe have hit it off.”

“I am as well.” Vivian fastened the top button on her cloak. The days were still warm, but the nights were becoming cooler. She counted herself fortunate indeed. It had been such a long time since she’d been around people she could trust. “It is pleasant to have made friends.”

She waved as her cousin’s coach drove off before giving the Evesham’s driver the order to start. Lord Stanstead had not responded to her message this morning. Although he might not have received it before he had left his card at the house.

Despite telling herself she could not form an attachment, she wished she knew if he was attending the same entertainment she and Phoebe were. Still, if he was searching for a wife, he would most likely attend one of the balls Clara and Silvia would visit.

Vivian was tempted to give herself a good scold. It was silly to want him to spend more time with her. She would be leaving Town soon, and he should be going about the job of marrying and producing an heir.

Yet when she entered the first room in a series of large rectangular connecting parlors, the first thing that caught her eye was him, leaning elegantly against the wall, speaking with Lord Rutherford.

A smile lit his lovely gray eyes as he captured her gaze and sauntered forward. “My lady. I had hoped you would attend Lady Worthington’s drum.” Without her leave and before she could object, Lord Stanstead appropriated her hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm. “I am deeply sorry I missed our trip to the museum. You must allow me to make it up to you.” His voice was soft and made her feel as if she were the only person in the crowded rooms. “Please say yes.”

Vivian’s skin warmed with his touch. She’d never had a gentleman pay her such attention. “Yes, of course.” And she enjoyed it far too much. “Tell me how your bill went this morning.”

“First, I want to know if I may escort you to the museum to-morrow.”

Most gentlemen would have immediately begun speaking about themselves. It pleased her that he did not. “I would be delighted.” Vivian glanced up to smile at him and sucked in a breath. There was nothing of the boy in him now as he focused all his considerable attention on her.