Lady Beresford's Lover (7 page)

“As do I.”

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but held back. That was for the best. Spending time together was one thing; expectations were something else entirely.

“Good night, Stanstead.” Clara inclined her head. “I must take these two home while they can still stand. It will take a few days for them to become used to the pace of life in Town.”

Either not understanding Clara’s dismissal, or ignoring it, Lord Stanstead escorted Vivian to their coach. “Have a good evening.”

“You as well.”

After Clara, Silvia, and Vivian were all in the coach and the pair had started forward, Clara said, “A good first event. I predict the house will be flooded with flowers and other mementos by to-morrow afternoon.”

In no time at all—Mayfair was quite small compared to traveling around the countryside—they were back at Clara’s house.

Barnes opened the door. “My lady, would you like tea delivered to your parlor?”

“Thank you, Barnes. You always know exactly what I need.”

Vivian, her cousin, and her friend made their way up the stairs to the landing and then into the wing in which Clara and Silvia had their apartments. Silvia seemed as if she could barely keep her eyes open.

Clara must have noticed, as she bussed Silvia’s cheek. “My dear, you did wonderfully well this evening. It’s a shame to-morrow isn’t my at home. Nevertheless, I expect to see an assortment of posies, poems, and other nonsense all dedicated to you. Take yourself off now and feel free to break your fast in your chambers.”

“Thank you, I am tired.” Silvia hugged Clara, then Vivian. “I had a wonderful time. Thank you so much for wanting me to join you.”

“Silly miss.” Clara smiled fondly. “Your mother and grandmother would have been pleased. Off to bed now.”

Vivian felt her eyes closing as well. It had been much too long since she’d even stayed up so late. “I shall seek my couch as well.”

Her cousin linked arms with her, guiding her into Clara’s parlor. Perdita ran out from under a table, and danced around her skirts. “Yes, my sweet.” She picked up the dog and gave her a kiss before setting her back on the floor. “Sit with me for a few minutes. There are some small details I’d like to discuss.” The tea arrived, and Clara served. “Did you have a good time?”

“I did. Much more than I thought I would.”

“I wasn’t sure how you would like being out among the
ton
again.”

“It hasn’t changed much.” Truth be told, Vivian would have been just as happy to have remained home with a good book . . . except for Lord Stanstead, of course. She had enjoyed meeting him.

“Stanstead is a good young man, and I know you will not fall in love with him.”

The tea was half-way down her throat and she choked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You may not have noticed the attention all the younger ladies were paying to him, but I did. He’ll be wed before the Season is finished.”

“I have no intention of . . .”

“Yes, yes, I know, and who could blame you?” Clara smiled. “Enjoy him while you are able.”

How was it that she could say the most outrageous things in a completely conversational tone? “He danced with me and is only accompanying me to the museum. I hardly think it shows interest on his part. He is only being kind to a newcomer to Town.”

“Of course, my dear. I’m sure you are correct.” Clara nibbled on a biscuit. “In any event, he will probably marry for political reasons. His star is on the ascendant.” Clara paused, staring at something on the wall. “Most likely that Banks girl. Her father is a powerful political figure.”

That ill-behaved child who had been glaring at Vivian and his lordship? Was it possible Lord Stanstead was trying to ensure the lady noticed him by dancing with her? “Indeed.” She carefully placed her cup on the table, resisting the urge to slam it down. “If you do not mind, I’m extremely fatigued. I shall see you in the morning.”

“I only ask that you not fall in love with him,” Clara called after Vivian. “He is exceedingly handsome.”

Half-way through the door she stopped. “You exaggerate, and I am not going to fall in love with anyone.”
Ever again.
“Good night.”

Vivian closed the door behind her. She had fallen in love with Edgar when he’d courted her. On their honeymoon he had been charming and attentive until the night he had finally decided to consummate the marriage. Bile rose in her throat as she remembered her humiliation when he had stripped off her nightgown. Even if he had not said the words then, his revulsion had been writ on his face. His attentions during the act had been so painful she had not been able to stop her tears. She had begged him to stop but he had not. When he’d left shortly afterward, she had felt more alone than ever.

Even if Stanstead was exceedingly handsome, and attentive, and kind, and had a wonderful sense of humor, she had it on good authority she was not what men wanted.

T
he clock struck three in the morning before the last of Robert and Serena’s guests had left. Rupert, holding a glass of brandy, slouched back on a comfortable leather chair in their study while his cousins occupied the love seat opposite him.

“I think it went well.” Serena worriedly gnawed on her bottom lip. “Don’t you?”

“It was perfect, but I knew it would be.” Robert leaned over, kissing her cheek. “Though I expected nothing less from you.”

She smiled softly at him, but there was still a slight crease marring her brow. Robert’s wife was a wonder when it came to estate management, having run a castle estate in Scotland for many years before she married. The
ton
was still new to her.

“I agree.” Rupert took a sip of brandy. “It was a complete crush, which is all you need to make it a success.”

Her forehead cleared. “There
were
a great many people. I don’t think anyone sent their regrets.”

“They would not have dared miss your first ball, my love.” Robert’s arm slid around her waist.

It was time to leave them alone. Rupert drained his glass, and rose. “I’m off. I’ll see you in a day or so.”

“I’ll walk out with you.” Robert stood. “There is a small matter I wish to discuss.”

“I shall leave you gentlemen to talk. Rupert, please join us for dinner later this week.” Rising, she gave her husband a hug. “Don’t be long, my love. We’re not going to have much sleep as it is before Elizabeth wakes.”

Rupert waited until he heard her climb the stairs before he turned to Robert. “What is it?”

“Lady Beresford. You appear quite taken with her.”

There was no point attempting to lie to his cousin, a man who had known him since childhood. “I am, but I shall not make the same mistake I made before.”

Robert raised one brow. “Which is the reason you were ready to take her to the museum to-morrow?”

Drat.
Was he rushing his fences again? “I’ll go slowly.” Rupert grinned. “And if I forget, I know my older cousin will remind me.”

“I hope you take advice better than I did.” Robert grimaced.

“You can be sure I shall.” Rupert began walking to the hall with his cousin beside him. “I have no desire to be in either my mother’s or grandmother’s black book. All I plan to do is to squire her around and see what occurs.”

“Harrumph.”

“I promise.” He was hard-pressed not to laugh. “I won’t do anything I should not.” After all, he had never had a rakish disposition. Why should he acquire one now?

“Do remember she is some sort of connection of Phoebe’s,” Robert responded in a dry-as-the-desert tone.

“As Serena is?”

Robert shuddered. “Exactly. Marcus may now think of you as a younger brother, but Phoebe will not be as generous should you break the lady’s heart.”

Yet another reason to go slowly. Rupert gave Robert an innocent smile as the butler handed him his hat and cane. “No doubt we will meet to-morrow.”

As he walked down the steps, he glanced at the sky. The clouds had cleared, and the moon was bright enough to guide his way. A footman held his carriage door open. “Thank you, but I’ll walk home.”

“Very good, my lord.”

Although going down Carlos Place was a more direct route, Rupert soon found himself on Mount Street at the entrance to the garden.

He would have to find out soon if they were to visit the museum. His mother should know, or he could ask Phoebe. But he really didn’t want all of his friends following his progress with Vivian.

He scanned the windows of the houses bordering the park. She had probably retired at least an hour ago. There was no reason for her to still be up at this time of the morning. Whether she was as interested in him as he was in her might be the better subject to dwell upon. She had the same fair loveliness as Miss Manning, but Vivian’s beauty was more ethereal and her demeanor was more mature, yet at the same time she reminded him of the crystal he’d seen blown in Venice, delicate and fragile. For both their sakes, Rupert would need to proceed carefully with her.

A flickering light shining from a window caught his eye at the same time as a man said, “Don’t mean you no harm, guv’nor. But a body’s got to make a living.”

Strolling through the park at this time of night had not been one of his better ideas. He took out his quizzing glass, turned it on the man, and studied him from the top of his greasy hat to his worn-out shoes. Rupert enjoyed helping those less fortunate than he, but that did not mean he would allow himself to be robbed. A compromise that would allow the other man to save face and buy some victuals was called for.

Tucking his quizzer back in his waistcoat, he used his grandfather’s you-are-the-dirt-beneath-my-feet tone. “A crown. You’ll get no more from me. If you try, you’ll receive nothing.”

The thief spit and eyed Rupert’s tiepin. “Ain’t like you can’t afford it.”

“Ah, but you see”—he pulled out his stick sword, and the man swallowed—“that particular item has sentimental value to me. What’s it to be? The crown or nothing?”

“Ain’t it my bleeding luck to come across a knowing one?” the thief said in a thoroughly disgusted tone. “I’ll take the crown.”

Less than a second after Rupert flipped the coin to the would-be robber, the man caught it and melted into the shadows. In the morning he’d have his secretary contact the local magistrate. Something should be done to better protect innocent citizens.

Rupert searched for the light only to find it had disappeared. To-morrow he’d discover where Vivian was.

 

Gisila lay on Vivian’s chest, making it necessary for her to hold her book off to the side. After a few minutes she gave up the pretense of reading and stroked the cat, who showed her pleasure by purring deeply. “Not that you care, but I neglected to tell Lord Stanstead where I am residing at the moment.”

Perhaps it was for the best. Clara was right, he was more than likely amusing himself until he married a younger lady. Vivian just hoped he wouldn’t wed that rude girl.

She settled the cat next to her, then blew out the candles. “I will enjoy the Season and find a house to call home. That is all I really want, in any event.”

If she continued to repeat it over and over and over again, she was bound to start believing it.

The cat chirped.

“Yes, there will be a garden and terrace. Perhaps in Kent. That is sufficiently far away from Beresford.” Yet instead of falling asleep, Vivian gazed at the window overlooking the park. If she rose, would she see Lord Stanstead? She glanced at the clock. It was after three in the morning. Not likely. She turned her pillow, careful not to disturb her cat.

Six hours later, her eyes popped open and she groaned. Lord Stanstead had taken root in her mind. She’d dreamed of dancing with him and walking through gardens. Her nocturnal meanderings had stopped short of kissing, though. That was something to be grateful for. Or was it?

This foolishness had to cease. Simply because he was the first gentleman in a very long time to show her any consideration, did not mean he was interested in her.

Vivian tugged the bell-pull. It was time to get on with her life, which did not include Lord Stanstead.

An hour later, after dressing and breaking her fast, Vivian found her cousin’s secretary, Mr. Septimius Trevor, at his desk in his small office. She knocked on the open door, entering a bit nervously. After all, it wasn’t every day a lady of her age, even a widow, sought to set up her own household. “Good morning, Mr. Trevor.”

He pushed his spectacles up and blinked as if surprised to see her, then rose hastily. “Good morning, my lady. How may I help you?”

She slipped into a chair in front of his desk. “I wish to begin my search for a property on which to live.”

She’d expected questions, or at least a modicum of shock, but the young man merely returned to his seat and picked up a pen. “If you will give me an idea of what you are looking for, I shall contact a land agent I have dealt with before when Lady Telford wished to visit Bath or Brighton. He once found a house for her in Scotland. When do you desire to take possession?”

“Sometime in late October would be ideal.” Her cousin would allow her to remain until a suitable house was found, and an older companion arranged.

“Plenty of time then.” He pulled out a piece of paper. “Shall we begin?”

Vivian began with the bare bones, after which Mr. Trevor questioned and prodded until a much more detailed picture of what her house should look like began to appear. In her mind a fair-sized manor house emerged, situated on a large enough property to support the maintenance, and a home farm as well as a garden. Any doubts she had experienced earlier dissolved as the scheme grew and became more of a reality. “This is wonderful, but do you think I’ll be able to find such a place?”

“Indeed I do.” He set down his pen. “The question is what condition will it be in, and what will you accept?”

She’d known this was going too well. “I must view the property first. I am not prepared to make extensive renovations.” Sitting a little straighter, she smiled. “There is not much for me to do in any event. I shall be able to travel out to any houses that are close to Town fairly easily. Any others may take some doing.” Such as convincing her friend and cousin she was perfectly capable of traveling with only her maid and footman. She could not allow Clara or Silvia to leave Town and miss their entertainments.

Rising, Vivian held out her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Trevor. You’ve been quite competent and very kind.”

“Competence is what I do best.” He shook her hand. “It was my pleasure to assist you. I’ll send this to the land agent immediately.”

Vivian made her way back to her apartment and found Punt in the dressing room. “I’ve done it. Mr. Trevor is going to assist me in my search for a small estate.”

The maid turned slowly. “I know you say that’s what you want. Just remember, things will always turn out like they should, my lady.”

“I do wish you would be happy for me.” Vivian wondered if anyone else had these types of problems with old retainers.

“Forgive me for saying so, my lady, but I’m happy you’re out of a marriage with a man who didn’t deserve you.” Punt shook out a gown with a snap. “I think you need to give yourself a chance at more happiness before you bury yourself in the country. After all, that’s where you’ve been for several years now and it hasn’t done you much good that I can see.”

“I do not intend to secrete myself. I have it in my mind to be active in any community in the area.” Vivian resisted the urge to fiddle with the curls framing her face. “And I am unlikely to meet a gentleman who will change my mind about having my own household.”

“Harrumph.”

The only gentleman who had caught her attention at all was Lord Stanstead. Still, it was impossible. She could not place herself in that position again. If only things . . . if only she were different. Maybe then Lord Stanstead would be interested, and she could trust a man with her heart. Then again, he had only asked to take her to the museum. There was really nothing in that.

 

Outside of one of the committee rooms in Whitehall, which was being used for meetings to discuss legislation, Rupert saw Lord Banks hail him. “My lord, good morning.”

“That remains to be seen. Stanstead”—the older man’s voice was low and slightly gruff—“I am to invite you to dine at my house on Wednesday.” He drew his brows down so low they almost touched his nose. “If you are not otherwise engaged, that is.”

Lord Banks’s fierce expression was obviously meant to intimidate. It did not accomplish that, but it was a damned good thing Rupert had no interest in the man’s daughter. The question was whether to tell him or not. Although Banks clearly didn’t want him for a son-in-law, he most likely didn’t want his child rejected either. “I’m very sorry, but I have a previous engagement that evening.”

Banks gave a curt nod and said in an under voice, “Thank you.”

It was then that a thought occurred to Rupert. “I gather you have another gentleman in mind?”

“Yes. I am happy you understand. Nothing against you, my lord, but he will know how to take a firm hand with my daughter. He is due to arrive in Town later next week.” Banks fiddled with his watch, opening and closing it. “The problem, Stanstead, is that you’re too dashing.”

Rupert’s lips tugged up, and he fought the urge to grin. “I’m afraid I have no control over that. I will, however, promise that I will not attempt to court your daughter.”

“This must remain between the two of us.” Banks had lowered his voice. “If my wife discovered I’ve spoken to you . . . The thing is, I haven’t told her about my choice yet.”

Rupert assumed a suitably grave demeanor. It wouldn’t do for his lordship to think he found the situation humorous, and he knew exactly how demanding wives could be, even the best of them. “I understand, my lord. From what I have seen, daughters can be the very devil.”

“Indeed, indeed, they are. On the other hand, except for bringing them out, they aren’t as expensive as sons. I’ve got enough of them as well. I never have to worry about the girls getting picked up by the watch, or getting into dun territory. Now then”—Banks flipped open his pocket watch—“I believe I can help you muster enough support for your bill providing aid for the war veterans.”

Which was the only thing Rupert wanted from the man. “Excellent.” He linked arms with Lord Banks. Being seen in close conversation with him and on good terms could only help Rupert gain support. “Shall we go in? It looks as if the meeting is about to start.”

Several hours later, Robert and Rupert accompanied Edward Malfrey, Marcus Evesham, and their friends Rutherford, and Harry Marsh, a member of parliament, to Brooks’s.