A Gentleman's Honor (12 page)

She might have thought she was mad, but knew she wasn’t. This was a facet of life she’d yet to experience, yet to explore.

As a widow, she couldn’t pretend not to understand. The look in his eyes convinced her she’d never succeed in denying what she’d felt, in pretending her hunger didn’t exist. He’d seen it, felt it, understood it—almost certainly better than she did.

There was nothing she could say—that she could think of that was safe to say—so she merely held his gaze and, her pulse still thundering, waited to follow his lead.

That seemed an acceptable response. When, stepping back, he quizzed her with his eyes, she merely arched a brow, and saw his lips quirk.

He took her hand, raised it to his lips. “I’ll leave you. I’m afraid I won’t be attending the Waverleys’ ball tonight.” He turned to the door; she walked beside him. “I need to consult with some others about the investigation.”

He opened the door; she led him into the front hall.

“The rumors concerning you and Ruskin should be fading.”

She glanced at him, saw a frown in his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

Her even reply didn’t reassure him. “Lady Amery will be attending, and Lady Osbaldestone, too, should you need any support.”

Opening the front door, she held it, and looked at him. “I doubt that will be necessary, but I’ll bear it in mind.”

Pausing by her side, he looked into her eyes. She got the distinct impression he wanted to say something more, something other, but couldn’t find the words.

Then he reached out, with the pad of his thumb caressed her lower lip.

It throbbed.

Swiftly, he bent his head, pressed a kiss, hard and definite, to the spot, then he straightened. “I’ll call on you tomorrow.”

With a nod, he went down the steps.

She stood at the door, watching him walk away, then shut it. She paused, waiting until her nerves steadied and untensed, then, lips firming, she headed for the stairs.

Alicia tapped on the door of Adriana’s bedchamber, then entered.

Sprawled on her bed, her sketchbook before her, Adriana looked up, then smiled. Impishly. “Has he gone?”

“Yes.” Alicia frowned as Adriana bounced into a sitting position. “But you shouldn’t have left us alone.”

“Why ever not?” Adriana grinned. “He was waiting to be alone with you, wasn’t he?”

Sitting on the end of the bed, Alicia grimaced. “Probably. Nevertheless, it would be wiser if I didn’t spend time alone with him.”

“Nonsense! You’re a widow—you’re
allowed
to be alone with gentlemen.” Adriana’s eyes sparkled. “
Especially
gentlemen like him.”

“But I’m
not
a widow—remember?” Alicia frowned.

“And gentlemen like him are dangerous.”

Adriana sobered. “Surely not—not him.” She frowned. “Geoffrey told me Tony—Torrington—was totally trustworthy. An absolutely to-his-bones honorable gentleman.”

Alicia raised her brows. “That may be so, but he thinks I’m a widow. His attitude to me is based on that.”

“But…”Adriana’s puzzlement grew; curling her legs, she shifted closer, studying Alicia’s face. “Gentlemen do marry widows, you know.”

“Perhaps.” Alicia caught her eye. “But how many noblemen marry widows? I don’t think that’s at all common. And you know what the books said—unless of the nobility herself, a widow is often viewed by gentlemen of the haut ton as a perfect candidate for the position of mistress.”

“Yes…but the books were warning of the general run of gentlemen, the bucks, the bloods, the—”

“Dangerous blades?” Alicia’s lips twisted; reaching out, she squeezed Adriana’s hand. “You’re not, I hope, going to tell me Tony—Torrington—isn’t dangerous.”

Adriana pulled a face. “No. But—”

“No buts.” Alicia spoke firmly, then stood. “In my estimation, it would be unwise for me to be alone with Torrington in future.”

Adriana’s eyes, fixed on her face, narrowed. “Did he kiss you?’

Her blush gave her away; she met Adriana’s eyes fleetingly. “Yes.”

“And?”
When she said nothing, Adriana prompted,

“How was it? How did it
feel
?”

The word brought back exactly how it had felt; warmth spread beneath her skin, her nipples tightened. One glance confirmed that Adriana was not going to be deterred. “It was… pleasant. But,” she quickly added, “indulging in such pleasantness is far too risky.”

She could see more questions forming in Adriana’s inquisitive mind. “Now that’s enough about me.” She reverted to her firmest tone. “I intend to avoid Torrington in future. But what about you? You’re the reason we’re here, after all.”

Adriana gazed up at her. After a moment, she said, “I like Geoffrey. He’s kind, and funny, and…” She drew breath and continued in a rush, “I think he might be the one.”

That last was said with an almost stricken look. Alicia sat again. “If you only
think
he might be, perhaps we should cast around a trifle more until you’re certain. There are three weeks yet before the Season begins, so you’ve plenty of time—there’s no reason to feel you must reach a decision quickly.”

“Indeed.” Adriana frowned. “I wouldn’t want to make a mistake.”

The sisters sat side by side, both staring into space, then Alicia stirred. “Perhaps”—she glanced at Adriana—“to help in deciding, it might be time to ask Mr. King to dine.”

Adriana looked at her, then nodded. “Yes.” Her chin firmed. “Perhaps we should.”

Alicia held her head high, her parasol deployed at precisely the correct angle as the natty barouche she’d hired from the livery stables rolled smoothly onto the gravel of the avenue through the park.

The morning was fine; a light breeze drifted through the branches of the trees, just coming into bud. She and Adriana sat in elegant comfort; on the box before them and clinging behind, the coachman and footman were attired in severe black with bright red ribbons circling the crowns of their hats. That last was Adriana’s suggestion, a simple touch to add a hint of exclusivity.

Such things mattered when going about in the ton.

“I still can’t get over Lady Jersey being so attentive.” Adriana lifted her face to the breeze; her dark curls danced about her heart-shaped face. “She has
such
a reputation, but I thought she was quite nice.”

“Indeed.” Alicia had her own ideas over what had prompted Lady Jersey’s kind words, and those of the other senior hostesses who had found a moment during the Waverleys’ ball to stop beside her to admire Adriana and wish them both well. She strongly suspected Lady Amery and her dear friend Lady Osbaldestone had been busy. And she knew at whose behest.

“Oh! There’s Lady Cowper.” Adriana returned her ladyship’s wave.

Alicia leaned forward and directed their coachman to pull up alongside her ladyship’s carriage, halted on the verge.

Emily, Lady Cowper, was sweet-tempered and good-natured; she had from the first approved of Mrs. Carrington and Miss Pevensey. “I’m so glad to see you both out and about. The sun is so fickle these days one daren’t let an opportunity pass.”

“Indeed.” Alicia touched fingers; Adriana smiled and bowed. “One can only attend a few balls each night, and there’s so many one simply cannot find in the crowds.”

Lady Cowper’s eyes gleamed. “Especially when so many need to have their notions set straight. But that small
contretemps
seems to be sinking quite as quickly as any of us might wish.”

Alicia shared a satisfied, understanding smile with her ladyship. They chatted about upcoming events for five minutes, then took their leave; the carriage rolled on.

To Lady Huntingdon, then Lady Marchmont, and finally Lady Elphingstone.

“That color so becomes you, my dear.” Lady Elphingstone examined Alicia’s maroon twill through her lorgnette, then turned that instrument on Adriana’s gown of palest lemon. “I declare you both are forever at the very pinnacle of modishness—always just so, never a step too far. I only wish my niece would take note.”

Alicia recognized the hint. “Is your niece in town?”

Lady Elphingstone nodded. “She’ll be at Lady Cranbourne’s rout tonight. I take it you both will be attending?”

“Indeed.” Adriana smiled warmly; she knew her role well. “I would be pleased to make your niece’s acquaintance, if that might be possible?”

Lady Elphingstone beamed. “I’ll be sure to make her known to you.”

Alicia returned her ladyship’s smile. “We’ll look forward to it.” By such little strategems were valuable alliances formed.

They parted from Lady Elphingstone. Alicia glanced ahead, then instructed the coachman to return to Waverton Street. Adriana cast her a questioning glance. Settling back, she murmured, “I’ve had enough for today.”

Adriana accepted the decree with easygoing cheerfulness; Alicia shut her lips on her real reason—she didn’t need to burden Adriana with that.

She had had enough—enough of deceiving others. But she’d accepted the role she had to play; any guilt associated with it was hers alone to bear.

As the carriage rolled under the trees, along the drive lined with the conveyances of the fashionable, she and Adriana continued to smile, wave, and exchange nods; the number of ladies with whom they were acquainted had grown dramatically over the past days. Or, more correctly, the number of ladies wishing to make their acquaintance had grown, courtesy of Tony—his lordship—and those he’d asked to look kindly upon them.

The gates of the park loomed; the carriage swept through, and they were free of the necessity of responding to those about them. Alicia couldn’t help but wonder what their reception would be if the ton knew the truth.

The prospect increasingly impinged on her mind. Tony—Torrington—had allied himself with them; if her secret became known, he would be involved by implication. Guilt by association, something the ton was quick to indulge in.

That worry dragged at her; only when they turned into Waverton Street and her mind swung to her brothers and her small household did she realize her worry for Torrington was of the same type, that nagging insistent consideration that she felt for her dependents, all those in her care.

The carriage rocked to a halt. Inwardly frowning, she let the footman hand her down. She wasn’t wrong in assessing how she felt, yet Tony wasn’t a dependent, nor yet in her care. Why, then, was her feeling so strong—so definite? So
real
.

After handing Adriana down, the footman bowed, then left. The carriage rumbled off. Adriana started up the steps. Closing her parasol, Alicia followed more slowly.

Jenkins would be upstairs with the boys; Adriana opened the door and went in, then turned to take Alicia’s parasol. “I’ll put these in the parlor. I thought of a new design—a variation of that French jacket. I want to sketch it before I forget.” With a swish of her skirts, she headed for the parlor.

Alicia paused in the hall, watching her sister… just for one instant pausing to give thanks, then she heard a footfall on the stairs.

She looked up—and her heart leapt.

There could be no doubt; as she watched Tony slowly, elegantly descend, his lips set in an easy line but his eyes watchful, intent, she understood what she was feeling, couldn’t stop the welling tide of anticipation, the burgeoning of simple happiness.

She was in a very bad way.

With one hand, he indicated the upper floor. “I’ve been with your brothers.” Reaching the bottom stair, he stepped down, walked closer.

With every step he took, she could feel her awareness come to life, feel her consciousness expand, reaching for him.

He stopped directly in front of her. His eyes met hers, their expression quizzical, faintly amused. Then, before she could stop him, he bent his head and kissed her.

Gently, warmly.

He raised his head, met her gaze. “I need to speak with you privately.” He glanced around, then gestured. “Shall we use the drawing room?”

She looked at the closed door. Her lips still tingled; it was an effort to bludgeon her wits into working order. “Yes. If…” Had her brothers said something they shouldn’t?

That thought and the incipient panic it evoked helped get her mind functioning. Turning, she crossed the hall by Torrington’s side, her protective instincts abruptly on full alert. No matter what she felt for him, she shouldn’t forget that if he learned the truth, he could pose as big a threat to her and her family as Ruskin had.

Indeed, the threat he could pose was even greater.

Tony opened the door, waited for her to enter, then followed her into the elegantly appointed room. His gaze went first to the windows—two long panes looking onto the street. Shutting the door, he glanced around, but there was nothing of her or her family there, on the mantelpiece or the occasional tables set between the two chaises and the well-padded armchairs.

She stopped in the middle of the richly colored Turkish rug; head up, spine straight, hands clasped before her, she faced him.

“You don’t have enough menservants.” He had no idea what she’d expected him to say, but it assuredly wasn’t that. She blinked, then frowned as her mind shifted to the domestic arena. If he told her he’d discovered a certain delight in throwing her off-balance, in confusing her, she most certainly wouldn’t approve, yet such moments revealed an underlying vulnerability, one she didn’t normally show, but which he treasured seeing and knew he responded to. As he presently was.

“Menservants?” Her frown was definite. “We have Jenkins, of course.”

“One man for a house of this size, with a family of this size?”

Her chin rose as he closed the distance between them. “We’ve never seen the need for a large staff. We’re quite comfortable as we are.”

Halting before her, he caught her gaze. “I’m concerned.”

She searched his eyes. “About what?”

“About the direction my investigation is taking, and the fact someone started rumors about you. Specifically
you
—the widow Ruskin was blackmailing.”

She hesitated, then said, “Adriana and I are always careful.”

“Be that as it may, this house is large… and you have three young brothers.”