Lord of the Rakes (18 page)

“F
iona.” Caroline whispered fiercely to her friend as James opened the door to their box and Harry stepped back to allow them through. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” murmured Fiona in reply, shooting a glance back toward Philip. “You need to know what that was about. Now you’ll have a chance.

“What?”

“That woman,” said Fiona as if this should make everything clear. “You need to know what he’ll say when you ask about her. It will give you the measure of his true character.” She smiled over her shoulder. “Do come sit here, Mr. Montcalm.” She gestured to one of the gilt-and-velvet chairs. “It has quite the best view of the stage.”

It was also right beside where Caroline had been sitting all evening. Philip bowed and waited for Caroline to sit first, as courtesy dictated. This allowed Caroline a view of Fiona’s insistent but silent gesturing to Harry so that he wound up sitting between her and Emma Westbrook rather than next to Caroline.

“It seems this time you have saved me from Mr. Banbridge,” Philip murmured to her.

“For your part, you seem to be following me, Mr. Montcalm,” she breathed in answer as he drew up his chair beside her. “First Lady Preston’s and now here. Should I be concerned?”

“I would hate to cause you a moment’s concern on any point. But I did tell your friends the truth. I am here because I enjoy opera.”

“Not a sentiment I would expect.”

“Nor would many others. That’s why I tend to let them believe I come for the dancers. It’s simpler.”

Caroline toyed with her fan for a moment. Below them the orchestra was tuning up and the audience settling down. “That was unworthy of me,” she said. “I should know better by now.”

“Should you?” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and pressing his fingers to his lips. “After such a short acquaintance?”

“Yes. You have demonstrated that you are not an ordinary man, let alone a commonplace rogue.”

Philip paused for a long moment, his attention apparently riveted on the conductor, who was entering the pit and raising his baton. “So what do you believe I am? I wonder.”

“That,” she said softly, “I am still trying to understand.”

The music began, but Philip was not paying attention to it. His gaze had shifted to her. Caroline felt herself beginning to blush. Not because there was desire or promise or heat, or any of the things she had become used to seeing in Philip’s eyes, but because there was a question there that she could not read.

Fiona was making a face at her, plainly trying to ask whether Caroline had broached the subject of Mrs. Warrick yet. Caroline shrugged irritably at her friend.

Philip, of course, missed none of this.

The curtain rose and applause rippled through the theater as the prima donna glided onto the stage. “I owe you an explanation, I think,” Philip said beneath the general noise.

“I do not require any explanation,” she answered stubbornly, but whether her stubbornness was directed against Fiona or against her own feelings Caroline could not be sure.

“But I should like to give you that explanation all the same,” said Philip. “Later tonight. Will you hear me out?”

Caroline bit her lip. Then she nodded.

“Thank you,” said Philip softly, then he flashed one of his satisfied smiles. “Now we can both relax, and enjoy.”

“I’m not sure . . .” she began.

“Shhh.” Philip laid one finger against his lips. “Relax, Lady Caroline. Listen. Let the music take you where it will.”

The mischievous wink he tipped her was Philip at his best, and it warmed Caroline straight through. She felt herself sitting back more comfortably. Her senses opened as they always seemed to do when he was near. The music washed over her, and it was indeed beautiful, and Caroline felt herself beginning to relax, and give in.

 • • • 

Philip was enjoying himself. He always liked music, but tonight’s performance was particularly enjoyable. He would have been a fool not to realize this was because he sat beside Lady Caroline. He watched her from the corner of his eye, careful not to let her notice his attention. Slowly, she did indeed let the music take her. She leaned forward, straining to catch the nuances, clearly enjoying the spectacle and the beauty. They’d talk about it afterward, he realized, exchange views, and compare this performance to others. That everyday fact took on a sudden significance, because Philip realized he was greatly looking forward to it. How much more was there to look forward to with this woman? And why was she so insistent about leaving London before he could find out? It was not simply a desire for travel. That much was clear. Could it be she was running from something? Philip frowned. Something with the name of Lewis Banbridge, perhaps?

Anger stirred in him. There could no longer be any doubt that Banbridge had designs on Lady Caroline. Why else show up to parade Eugenia in front of them, except to remind Caroline of his reputation, and to try to make her jealous? If Banbridge thought he could so easily steal a woman from the Lord of the Rakes, the dandy had best think again. He would never leave Caroline to Banbridge’s mercenary advances.

But he was going to leave her, eventually. Or she would leave him. That was the way of it. Sooner or later, Lady Caroline would no longer be his lover, and therefore no longer under his protection. It would be for some other man to keep her safe, to conduct her about London or Paris, and to take her to the opera. It would be for Philip to bow and smile, and move on with his life, with some other woman on his arm.

It was a good thing the aria below had reached its pure, tragic peak. Otherwise Philip might have to believe that the prickling in his eyes had a source quite separate from the music.

 • • • 

The performance ended in a thunder of applause and cries of “Bravo!” The prima donna and her leading man came out four times to make their bows and receive their bouquets. After that came the usual fuss of finding wraps and gloves and fans and sorting out who was on whose arm. Philip, in his position of guest of the family, could properly walk down the stairs with the Rayburns and Westbrooks, although it was Harry Rayburn who got to take Lady Caroline’s arm. Rayburn did so rather ostentatiously, Philip thought, and he did not miss the hint of regret in Caroline’s eye. He would tease her about it later. Philip let himself smile. They would do so many things later.

Despite these pleasant musings, Philip kept a sharp eye out for either Eugenia or Banbridge. Fortunately, neither one appeared in the milling crowd. He held the door for the party and followed them out onto the opera house steps.

“Very nice to have met you, Mr. Montcalm.” Miss Rayburn gave Philip her hand. He bowed over it, but he was thinking how very neatly this young woman had put herself between him and Caroline. He was going to have to be careful around Miss Rayburn. She clearly saw herself as Caroline’s guardian.

As it happened, she was not the only one.

“Thought I’d wander over to the club, have a drink,” announced Harry Rayburn to the world at large. “Care to join me, Montcalm?”

Philip looked the other man in the eye, and saw nothing at all casual in the invitation. He chafed at the delay. He wanted to start directly for Caroline’s house. There was so much he wanted to say to her. Not to mention that sitting beside her all evening without being able to so much as touch her hand had left him distinctly restless. His mind was filling with all the ways he intended to make up for the distance polite society forced on them.

At the same time it was plain that if he got into the Rayburns’ bad books, the man could make his continued association with Caroline extremely difficult.

“Thank you, Rayburn. I’d enjoy that. Ladies.” Philip favored the women, Rayburns and Westbrooks together, with his best smile and most perfect bow. He sought out Caroline’s eyes. She looked worried, and he held her gaze for just a moment, letting her see that he had no concern. He was rewarded by seeing the crease vanish from between her eyes.

 • • • 

Rayburn’s club was smaller than most Philip was familiar with, but in some ways more comfortable. The leather furniture was worn soft and the men were at ease with each other. What servants there were seemed mostly to be confined to the dining room. In the sitting room, members mostly served themselves from the decanters on the sideboard. Rayburn poured them both healthy measures of port and led Philip to a quiet corner. They each took a chair, and Philip sipped his drink, which was quite good. Perhaps it was not surprising that a club of merchantmen should have access to some superior liquors.

He also decided not to give Harry Rayburn the chance to make the first sally in their private conversation. “Convention dictates this to be the point when you threaten me with violence if I harm Lady Caroline,” Philip said.

That got a smile out of Rayburn. “Where Lady Caroline is concerned, mere conventionality will never suffice.”

Philip chuckled, and immediately felt better about the man in front of him. “You’ve known her a long time, I under-
stand.”

“We grew up together. She’s practically another sister to me.”

“I’m glad of it.”

Rayburn looked surprised at this remark, and thoughtful. “Another man might be jealous. See me as the conventional country rival, et cetera
.
” He waved his glass.

“I’m glad she’s got one brother she can trust.”

“I do my best. If only because Fiona would murder me if I didn’t.” They both chuckled at that. Then Rayburn fell silent for a time, watching him. Philip was impatient to get to Caroline, but he held himself in check. Rayburn had brought him here to vet him. Philip needed to let the man have his look.

“Do you know,” Rayburn said at last, “I think I’d be glad to get to know you better, Montcalm.”

Now Philip was the one who was surprised. “Don’t tell me you’re looking to add some town bronze to your character?”

“Lord, no! Wouldn’t suit me at all. But I think I’d like to know you just the same.”

“Not a sentiment I often hear from—”

“Dull, respectable members of the merchant class?” Harry finished for him. “Let me tell you about what I do, Montcalm. Father’s the importer, but we also own two bonded warehouses. That’s my end of things.” He tapped his chest with his glass. “As a result, whether I want to or not, I end up dealing with all sorts of sharp customers. Sometimes they’re thieves and smugglers, sometimes they’re just cheats. I got myself knifed once for not agreeing to house a particular load of brandy. You’re not to tell Fi that, mind.” Philip waved his port, indicating he would keep this confidence. “After a while you pick up a knack for sizing up the man in front of you. My instincts tell me there’s more to you than you let the oh-so-fashionable world see. I hope you’ll join us for dinner one night. Nothing formal, you understand. Just the family and a few friends.”

“Thank you, I’d enjoy that.” Philip answered at once. What surprised him was that he meant it, and not just because he wanted to be in the Rayburns’ good graces. He liked what he’d seen of them, and Harry in particular. This Harry was a solid character, and he genuinely worried about Caroline, but in a way that brought out his best.

Philip took another swallow of port. “So if I can ask, what’s the story of the earl? No one seems to actually know the man.”

A look of distaste rippled across Rayburn’s amiable face. “Jarrett takes after his father. Hates town with a passion. Keeps to his estate.”

“But it’s something more than that. Caro . . . Lady Caroline seems quite worried that he’ll call her back there.”

But Rayburn only shook his head. “If she hasn’t told you, it’s not my place to talk about her family.”

“No, of course not. Sorry. Put it down to a late night and strong spirits.” Philip took another swallow of port to emphasize the point.

“Barely two o’clock.” Rayburn squinted at his pocket watch. “Wouldn’t think that a late night for a fellow like you.”

Philip shrugged. “Perhaps I’m growing old.”

“Happens to the best of us.” But Rayburn was giving him an odd look as he said it. Then he set his empty glass down. “Something I can tell you, though, Montcalm, by way of friendly warning. Don’t underestimate Lewis Banbridge.”

“Banbridge?” Philip felt his brows lift. “I’ve known him for years. He’s . . . largely harmless.”

“You’ve known him in town, but I’ve known him in the country. He’s had his eye on Caroline for those same years. I’ve done my best to put him off, but he’s made friends with Jarrett—Keenesford, I suppose I should say now. Knows how to talk him right round, all sorts of stuff about protecting the family name, the importance of having a woman’s life settled before she can make terrible and embarrassing mistakes, so on and so forth. I don’t think even Caroline knows how well he stands in the earl’s graces. In strictest confidence, I think Keenesford’s been at something of a loss since their father died. He depended heavily on the old man to tell him what to do. Banbridge is one of the few people he actually listens to anymore.”

Philip nodded. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll watch my back.”

Harry favored him with another one of his direct and pointed looks. “I was rather hoping you’d watch hers.”