The Further Observations of Lady Whistledown (Lady W 1) (30 page)

Terrance’s lips twitched, but he carefully did not laugh at his friend. “Anyway, I don’t want Miss Shelton-Hart.”

“And how would you know? Have you met her? Have you seen her?” Stu did not wait for Terrance to answer. “No,” he said succinctly as if to a child in the midst of a tantrum. “I’m off, then, to
ask
Miss Shelton-Hart to be ready at half past eleven, three days hence, for the incredible pleasure of being escorted to the Morelands’ skating party by Lord Darington himself.” Stu launched himself from his chair with great enthusiasm. “Will you be all right here alone?”

Dearest Stu. “Of course.”

“Right, then, I’m off.” Stu tipped his head at Terrance, shoved the list of names in his breast pocket, and took off with a light step toward the exit.

Terrance watched him go, and then he glanced around at the other gentlemen talking and smoking in White’s drawing room. Ever since his injury, he spoke less and saw more. It was amazing, really, the things he now understood whereas he would have completely missed them before.

Terrance watched as some young man twitched and stammered his way through some request of the Earl of Stan-wick. Though he was too far away to hear, Terrance knew it was a request, one the young man wanted desperately and was rather sure the old earl was not going to give him.

Poor sod.

Terrance stood. He remembered a time when he would come to White’s and wile away hours doing nothing more than drinking and smoking and talking. And now that seemed infinitely boring to him.

He was actually more interested now in finding his way into Lady Caroline’s good graces. It didn’t matter what Stu said, or even what Terrance had said he wanted before. Now that he had met Lady Caroline, Terrance did not care about anything he might once have desired.

He wanted to get to know Caroline. And he most definitely wanted to explore the base of her neck with his tongue. Very important, that.

With a nod to the Earl of Stanwick, Terrance left his club in search of Lady Caroline Starling.

One of the things Linney was most definitely looking forward to, when married and living in the country, was the freedom to go anywhere she wanted without having to find a chaperone. It was just such a horrible bother, especially since most of their servants were usually on some errand for her mother.

Usually, she would have sent a note around to Emily Parsons, her one and only friend and always willing to go with Linney and bring along one of the fifty million footmen her father retained. But, unfortunately, Emily’s family had decided that the frozen Thames was not sufficiently fascinating to warrant a winter trip to London, and so they had elected to remain in the country.

Thus, she had been forced to corner Teddy, their butler/ footman/all-around errand boy. Her mother would probably burst a vein when she realized that Teddy would not be there to put on his butler hat for the callers who would be showing up at any moment, but Annie would be able to do it. And Linney needed to get out.

Anyway, sitting in the drawing room, as she was always asked to do for some unfathomable reason, and listening to her mother talk a mile a minute, as well as enduring her disgust of Mr. Evanston who leered at their female visitors, was beyond her at the moment.

No, now she would much rather be right where she was. Linney stood in a deserted marble hall of Montagu House, Bloomsbury, in which the British Museum was kept, staring at the Rosetta Stone. Teddy was gossiping with a guard in the other room, with Linney’s blessing.

Linney touched the stone, letting her fingers play over the strange markings. She let herself wonder about what they said, about the world the stone had come from. The mysteries surrounding the stone intrigued her.

It made her sad, too. Somewhere there was a space this stone had once occupied that was now deserted. The Rosetta Stone had been taken from its resting place of thousands of years, stolen really, and taken miles and miles and worlds away.

And though she really could not put words to the idea, it didn’t feel right, just another one of the strange thoughts that she would never say out loud.

“Interesting, isn’t it?”

Pulled from her musings by a low voice just over her shoulder, Linney let out a shriek that echoed through the entire Museum and was probably heard on three different continents.

“Sorry,” the voice said.

She turned to find none other than Lord Darington. For a man to whom she was related, albeit distantly, but had never seen in her life, it seemed a little strange that she had now encountered him three times in as many days.

A little strange, and very disconcerting.

“My lady?” Poor Teddy came at a dead run around the corner, his face the color of the ice that now covered the Thames.

“Sorry, Teddy, ’tis nothing.” Linney frowned up at the “nothing.” “I was just startled, is all.”

Teddy gulped some air and nodded, but didn’t leave, either. Good boy.

“I did not mean to startle.”

No, he didn’t mean to startle, or offend; what on earth
did
he mean, then?

They stared at each other for a moment. Which was a bit on the uncomfortable side, but really fine since he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. And he smelled good, too. That was not usually a point in favor of most men, she had to admit.

Mr. Evanston, for example, always smelled like the inside of an old shoe.

When it was warm out, the man went absolutely sour.

“Do you enjoy Egyptology?” Lord Darington asked, tipping his thick head of hair toward the Rosetta Stone.

She faltered a moment, a rather strange and altogether disturbing image of her fingers running through his hair causing her to swallow a touch loudly before answering him.

“Errr, no, actually.” She glanced at the stone. “Not particularly. I like the stone, though. I like to wonder about it, especially in the quiet of the museum.” Linney frowned. That hadn’t really made any sense, had it? “I mean…”

“Yes, I know.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. If he truly understood, then she was a fairy princess.

He touched the stone, right at the exact spot she had put her own fingers. “I see some poor sod, hunched over this rock…” Lord Darington stopped for a moment and took a long breath. “Chipping away. Who was he? It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

Yes.

Lord Darington glanced up at her with eyes the color of a summer sky. “It is sad,” he said softly, “that this stone is so far from home.”

Well, her fairy godmother would be dropping in at any moment, then. She blinked at Lord Darington.

He put out his arm. “Walk with me,” he said.

It would have been
awfully
nice of him to put that in the form of a question rather than a demand, but for some reason, Linney just slipped her hand around his elbow.

Mmmm, Lord Darington was warm.

In fact, for a moment, Linney had the strangest urge to curl right into him and breathe in his lovely scent and just be warm. She had not been truly warm in a horribly long time.

“You aren’t at all bland,” he said.

Linney stopped walking and just stared. “Well, thank you so very much.”

His face darkened as if he were blushing, which was exactly what he should be doing, but she doubted that was the cause. He was probably just getting prickly at her sarcastic tone.

Well, that was just too bad, because she was already prickly from being called not bland. “Are you trying to compliment me, Lord Darington? Or perhaps you are trying to put me in my place?”

He took a very deep breath. “It was a compliment.”

“Really?”

“Actually…” Lord Darington stopped and glanced up at Teddy, who stood at a discreet distance behind them, pretending profound interest in some piece of cracked pottery.

“I’m not sure why,” Lord Darington said, looking back at her. “But I really like you.”

“Well, goodness, I may swoon.”

Lord Darington frowned and a small muscle ticked along his jawline. For some reason, the sight of that muscle made Linney almost
really
swoon.

Lord Darington was a cad and a snob, and he said the most horrible things. And yet he was absolutely beautiful, and his very nearness made her feel all light in the head and…well…swoony.

And it was especially bad at this very moment, for Lord Darington was watching her lips with an intensity she had heretofore never seen in another person’s eyes. Especially someone looking at her.

Linney ran her tongue along her front teeth, and then tried, surreptitiously, to lick her lips, an altogether impossible feat, seeing that Lord Darington watched her like a cat eyeing a mouse.

And then Lord Darington kissed her.

Holy mother of God. Lord Darington was kissing her!

Linney stood frozen in shock as Lord Darington pressed his warm, full lips against hers. She had never been kissed before, of course. Actually, she had wondered if the act weren’t horribly disgusting.

It most definitely was not anything close to disgusting.

In fact, she quite liked being kissed.

Lord Darington pulled away slightly, but then returned, angling his head just a touch to the side and a bit higher so that her top lip was sweetly embraced by both of his.

Yum.

Yes, she definitely enjoyed this. If it was this much fun to kiss Lord Darington, the cad, maybe it would be very wonderful to kiss her soon-to-be fiancé, Ernest Wareing, Earl of Pellering?

He was not at all exciting, of course. But at least he wasn’t a cad.

Lord Darington opened his mouth slightly and sucked her top lip into his mouth. Linney’s hands lifted of their own accord, and she felt Lord Darington’s upper arms against her fingers.

His arms were solid, strong. And she
suddenly
remembered when she had first seen his hands; those lovely hands were now gently holding either side of her rib cage.

Since it seemed that all rules had been thrown to the pigeons, Linney decided to indulge—well, indulge even more than she was at the moment—and she inched one of her hands up and curled her fingers in the hair at the back of Lord Darington’s neck.

It was exactly as it looked, soft and thick. Oh, she did like Lord Darington’s hair. And his smell, and his hands, and his strong arms, and…

No, kissing Ernest Wareing, Earl of Pellering, would not be this thrilling. She was pretty sure of that at the moment.

She was also sure that she would like to kiss Lord Darington more than just this one time.

It was much too nice to do only once. “I would like to kiss you at least a dozen times,” she murmered.

Lord Darington leaned away from her and touched the side of her face with the tip of his finger. “A dozen?”

Caroline felt her face burn. Her legs were actually shaking, and she felt horribly light-headed.

Lord Darington’s arms tightened around her as if he understood completely that she might turn into a puddle at his feet at any moment.

“At least a dozen,” she heard herself whisper. Well, wasn’t she just making a cake out of herself?

“I like you, Lady Caroline.”

Hm, yes, swooning might definitely be in her future. “I will go with you,” she said then, her mouth working with absolutely no input from her brain. “To the skating party.”

He blinked, his hands leaving her sides.

Oh no, why on earth had she just said that?

“I think I’m going with Miss Shelton-Hart,” he said slowly.

“You think?” she said stupidly. And then she pushed away from Lord Darington. Oh, what a horrible fool she was, Linney thought, as she whirled around and nearly ran from Lord Darington’s presence.

Teddy looked away quickly, but she knew very well he had been staring intently.

Wonderful. She had completely forgotten that Teddy was standing there watching them. In fact, she had forgotten everything. Bloody hell, they were standing in the middle of the British Museum. Anyone could have seen them.

Seen her be an idiot.

She stopped and turned back to the man who had just kissed her. “I would very much appreciate it if you just left me alone. I’m not sure what it is you are about, but I
am
rather sure it is not anything a gentleman should be doing.” And Linney swirled around on her heel and walked as regally as she could manage away from Lord Darington.

The cad.

Chapter 4

This Author has it on the best authority that an elegantly dressed couple was seen kissing in the hallowed halls of the British Museum on Monday afternoon.

Unfortunately, This Author has not been able to definitively identify the persons making up this couple, and as all Gentle Readers know, while This Author may be a gossip, This Author is the best sort of gossip and only prints that which is one hundred percent, certifiably true.

Hence, no names will be named.

It must be noted, however, that it is difficult to imagine any two members of the ton anywhere in the vicinity of the British Museum, an institution which does seem to imply a certain degree of intelligence among its patrons.

Then again, perhaps the amorous couple chose that lofty edifice for their tryst precisely because it is such an unlikely location for members of the ton.

L
ADY
W
HISTLEDOWN
’
S
S
OCIETY
P
APERS
,
2 F
EBRUARY
1814

L
ady Caroline Starling had been cornered by Donald Spence on the icy banks of the Thames. She had, in fact, been forced to deal with the idiot for nearly ten minutes now. And though Terrance realized completely that Lady Caroline absolutely hated him at the moment, he was rather sure that she would actually see him as a blessing in the face of Donald’s rather buffoonlike attentions.

In fact, he was a bit upset with Lord Pellering, Caroline’s escort to the Morelands’ skating party, for not rescuing her. But Lord Pellering, it seemed, was deeply engrossed in a conversation with Lord Moreland, dull Donald’s even duller father, about hunting dogs.