This Earl Is on Fire (10 page)

“How awful.” The news shocked Adeline and only added to growing concern she had for him. He already suffered such a violent attack and now this? “Though I am glad he wasn't present for it. And it is good to know that Wolford has family he can depend upon.”

“And the kindness of strangers,” Ivy said with a smile as she handed Adeline a cup.

“I wouldn't say that we're strangers any longer. Serge and I think of him as one of the family.” Mother began slicing into the cake, oblivious to the three teacups that stalled mid-sip.

Adeline nearly choked in her rush to swallow. “But only because my parents feel that way about
everyone
, our servants and the villagers alike.”

She would have glared at Mother if she wasn't so busy pretending to be unaffected.

“Forgive me,” Juliet began, her tone tinged with gravity. “I wonder how much you know about Wolford's reputation amongst the
ton
.”

Mother nodded solemnly. “He did warn us. Though things like that do not concern us when a man is injured.”

“Which only confirms your goodness,” Ivy said with a warm smile.

“Unfortunately, there are certain persons in society who do not bother to take that into account.” Juliet placed her cup and saucer on the table. “As you likely realized last evening with Lady Falksworth. Her actions were just shy of a cut direct.”

Adeline hadn't realized it was that serious, but Mother nodded as if she'd known all along. “Mother, you didn't say a word.”

“I didn't want to worry you. The night was so full of promise.”

Truer words had never been spoken. Adeline felt another blush when she thought of how last night had ended.

But a cut direct—or a gesture just shy of it—was serious. If Lady Falksworth treated her parents so abominably, and in front of the dowager duchess and Lady Cosgrove, the situation was dire, indeed. A woman's reputation was all she had.

“That means I won't gain society's acceptance.” When Adeline noticed the slight rattle of her cup, she set hers down as well. “Does it not matter that he was bedridden for the entirety of his stay up until today?”

Adeline felt a rush of guilt. Had she taken advantage of him last night? Had he been unable to push her away from him? During the kiss, it certainly hadn't seemed that he'd lacked any strength, but now she felt rather wanton and lecherous. Poor Wolford! She felt her cheeks heat.

When both Juliet and Ivy nodded solemnly, Mother rose from her chair and stood at Adeline's side, resting her hand on her shoulder. “Dear heavens, what did Lady Falksworth suppose? That we are such simpletons that we left our daughter unchaperoned in the lair of a libertine?”

“Knowing Lady Falksworth, that is precisely what she thinks. Her
ladyship
prefers the company of finches so much that, I do believe, she shares the same size brain.” Juliet huffed, her eyes flashing daggers.

Adeline was overwhelmed by the support of her new friend, if a little awed by her. Even scowling did not mar Juliet's beauty. She could tease, laugh, and also rant but always remain refined.

Then Juliet straightened, sitting at the edge of her chair. “But that will be a trifling matter soon enough, for we”—she gestured to Ivy—“have procured an invitation.”

“And not just any invitation,” Ivy added, a lively grin dancing on her lips and in her eyes, “but the Select Seventy.”

Adeline had read about the Select Seventy in this morning's
Standard.
Apparently, this was a big to-do that caused speculation to run rampant over which guests would be invited.

Mother's grip on Adeline's shoulder eased. “However did you manage it?”

Juliet beamed. “It turns out that Lady Strandfellow, while having her own reservations, absolutely abhors the idea of agreeing with Lady Falksworth.”

“But, I presume, she still has reservations,” Mother said.

Ivy and Juliet exchanged a look before the latter spoke. “Wolford's reputation has been so . . .
unwashed
for so long that nearly every woman who speaks to him at social engagements must deal with speculation of some sort. As you might imagine, he is not often invited to attend proper engagements. Although, since he has such an esteemed title and great wealth, there are some who make an exception.”

Adeline was beginning to see a clearer picture of what Liam's life was like. Shunned from part of society through his own actions but welcomed by another and solely because of his wealth and title. It was no wonder he had little trust in people.

“North tells me that the
ton
has always been enthralled by his cousin. Sadly, they are eager for any errant whisper,” Ivy said. “I see a different side of him, however. Though I suppose my fondness for him began the day he brought a toad to my wedding.”

Ivy proceeded to tell the story, and as Adeline listened, she felt a reluctant surge of affection for him. Then she sighed in dismay. It would be so much easier for her to forget about him if he wasn't so appealing.

Juliet slowly shook her head. “Wolford has far more substance than anyone realizes. That was my own mistake as well. Had I known, I never would have made that wager with Max.” Then she turned her attention to Adeline and Mother. “This was the wager I spoke of at the opera. While it was initially a private battle between Max and me, it is now a rather public war. You see, Max and I have had this ongoing animosity, ever since we were engaged in a small”—she paused to take a sip of her tea—“kissing scandal, over five years ago.”

Adeline sat up a little straighter. “Between you and Lord Thayne?”

Juliet offered a succinct nod and then took another sip. At first, Adeline was surprised by the news and then, recalling the exchange between the pair at the opera, it made perfect sense. Mother too seemed to nod as if the history between Juliet and Thayne were obvious.

Yet, for Adeline, one question remained . . . “How did you survive the scandal?”

“I ran off and married the first man who would have me. Needless to say, mine is not an example to be followed,” Juliet remarked gravely, apparently forgetting the fact that the
ton
was enthralled by her as well. “Back to the matter at hand—the wager.

“A month or so ago, when I returned to London, I had planned to buy the house that had once belonged to my parents. Unfortunately, upon learning the news, Max went out that very day and purchased the house out from under my nose.”

“No!” Mother gasped. “What a wretched thing to do!”

Adeline and Ivy agreed.

“I was livid but quickly decided to get even instead of angry. I was determined to take back my house by whatever means necessary. It just so happens that Max provided the perfect opportunity that same day. So, when Max began spouting nonsense about how anyone could become the Season's
Original
, I challenged him to prove it.” Juliet drew in a breath. “After all, I had the advantage of studying those who were named in the past. I know that it takes a special quality. So, with the help of my dear cousin, Lilah—whom I cannot wait for you to meet once she returns from her honeymoon—I was certain of our success.”

“And she would have been named too,” Ivy said with undeniable certainty.

“But when the end of the month came—that is when the name of the
Original
is posted in
Standard
,” Juliet explained, “there was no announcement, other than to say that the
Original
would be named at the end of this month instead.”

Adeline was putting the pieces together. “So, while you were helping your cousin become the
Original
, Max was helping Wolford?”

Juliet offered a small laugh. “Max believes he can win the wager without any effort.”

“But at the opera, you made a suggestion to help Max,” Adeline said, confused.

Juliet held her gaze and then Mother's. “It was not for Max. I simply abhor what gossip can do. And with the help of my gracious friend”—Juliet gestured to Ivy—“the duke and duchess will also attend the Select Seventy. Soon thereafter, your name will be linked to all of us, respectably separated from Wolford's reputation without quitting his circle of friends.”

“It is a great honor to be invited and also quite clever of you to secure an invitation which—one can assume—would not be extended to Wolford,” Adeline said. She'd gained an understanding of society's intricate workings in the last hour.

“Certainly, Max is welcome to try to garner an invitation on Wolford's behalf,” Juliet said with a slow smile. “However . . . this is a wager after all.”

A
headache assaulted Liam. Closing the door of his dressing chamber, he leaned against it, trying to catch his breath. Apparently, he'd grown used to the barest light in Boswick's guest chamber, because here, it felt like his eyes were about to explode.

This windowless room was the only place in Wolford House that was dark enough and blissfully free of the sounds of servants going about their tasks. Not only that, but it was the only place to escape Rendell's constant queries and
my lords
.

Hollycott had left a short while ago but not before asking Liam a series of questions concerning the attack. The inspector was determined to prove that the theft and the assault were related.

What concerned Liam more was the fact that the burglars had been in the parlor. That reason alone demanded a thorough examination of his entire house. Given the amount of items in Liam's collection, he needed as much help as he could get. Therefore, he postponed the reassignment of servants to Sudgrave Terrace. Which meant that he would not be staying next door to the Pimms until this matter was settled. And perhaps not even then.

Dizziness caused his stomach to roil suddenly. His
empty
stomach, he reminded himself, pressing a fist there. What he wouldn't give to have just one more coverlet picnic with Adeline.

A succinct knock sounded on his bedchamber door. The absence of any nervous throat clearing told him that it wasn't Rendell. When he heard the sure, steady footfalls heading in his direction without having asked permission to enter, Liam knew precisely who it was.

“Vale, I thought you were giving Boswick a tour,” Liam said, pressing a hand over the latch and debating whether or not to open the dressing chamber door.

During the final leg of the tour of Wolford House, Vale and Boswick had begun a discussion on honeybees. Since Vale was a scientist by nature, he was no doubt thrilled to have found a fellow beehive enthusiast. The only interest Liam had in honey was how it would taste on Adeline's lips. And that was certainly not an appropriate topic to discuss in front of her father.

Liam wanted to linger here, hoping that the mere thought of her would soothe him as much as her voice seemed to have done thus far. Instead of a moment of solitude, however, Vale found him.

Nevertheless, his cousin had a way of taking charge that was not invasive. Not usually, at least.

Although, Liam had been relieved to find Vale here this morning. It had allowed Liam the opportunity to see to business matters and not neglect Boswick. Not only that, but Liam was moved by Vale's response upon seeing his injuries. His stoic, analytical cousin rarely allowed his countenance to reveal his thoughts, but the shock and concern had been evident in his gruff manner.

“Your housekeeper is giving Boswick a tour of the gallery instead,” Vale said. “I wanted to speak to you privately.”

“You sound rather ominous, Cousin. What is there to speak of that you do not already know? I have informed you and Hollycott everything I remember from the attack.”

“I wish you had informed me sooner. Though perhaps the reason you did not is partly my fault. I should have done something to breech the barrier that our family set in place during our boyhoods. I thought the matter had sorted itself over the years.”

Liam had not made an attempt either. The truth was, it was difficult for him to form attachments. After his father's death, he'd been so lonely and broken that he'd feared loss more than he desired companionship. That all changed when he was seventeen, when a debutante and her family seemed to see right through him and welcomed him as one of their own.

Yet after the deception, he found it difficult to trust anyone enough to close the distance he kept between himself and others. Though he should have made an exception for his own family.

Right now, it was too much to think about. Liam felt pain stab at his temples. And damn it all, he missed the quietude of Boswick's residence.

“Stop this, Vale. I insist.” Yanking open the door, he squinted and wished he'd closed the drapes in his bedchamber. “I never cared that you became the duke. The title was rightfully yours to begin with, and so there was never a need to speak of it. There. Now that we've settled things, please tell me why you've suddenly become a loquacious ninny who cares a farthing what I think.”

“Ivy mentioned that my”—Vale straightened his shoulders and tugged at the hem of his waistcoat—“regard for the people closest to me is not always evident.”

Shaking his head in pity, Liam crossed the room to close one of the drapes. Sadly, it seemed as if he and Vale had this in common as well. But at least Liam held himself together with a measure of dignity. In contrast, his cousin was utterly henpecked.

“Well, you may inform your wife that I am rather perceptive.” Then Liam paused, thinking that there might also be another reason his cousin was not behaving as usual. Vale had been married nearly four months now. “Congratulations on the expected arrival of your heir.”

“How did you—”

When his cousin's brows lifted, Liam shrugged. “I've seen that look of terror in the eyes of other men when their wives were in confinement.”

Vale's shoulders relaxed and he offered a nod, not disputing Liam's observation. “The physician confirmed our own suspicions yesterday. By my calculations, the child should arrive—Why did you laugh just now?”

Liam couldn't help himself. It was so typical of Vale to put everything into an equation. He'd even come up with a mathematical equation for marriage. The
ton
was still talking about Vale's
Marriage Formula
and how he'd used it to find his own bride. What most people did not understand was that it hadn't happened like that at all. After all, it was obvious that Vale had been smitten with Ivy from the first moment he'd met her. He never needed a formula.

Liam shook his head. “Oh, nothing. I just had a glimpse of young Northcliff's life, scribbling calculations over the nursery walls.”

His mocking prediction made Vale grin broadly before he remembered himself and resumed his more typical austere expression. “Regardless of the turn our conversation has taken, I sought you out for a reason.” He straightened his shoulders once more. “I am here to inquire what you intend to do about Miss Pimm.”

At the unexpected mention of her, a jolt shot through Liam. “I
intend
to do nothing.”

“Surely, being the rather
perceptive individual
that you are, you realize the harm you caused Lord and Lady Boswick and Miss Pimm. While I have not met his wife and daughter, Boswick seems unconcerned about your reputation. He is an intelligent, amiable fellow, but I fear he is unused to the ways of the
ton
.” Vale released a slow exhale, laden with disappointment. “As it stands, Miss Pimm will have no chance of being accepted into society or in finding a husband.”

Liam gritted his teeth against the bitter tang of guilt at the back of his throat. “That is why I asked Aunt Edith for assistance. She invited them to the opera the last evening.”

“Considering your reputation, it should not surprise you to learn that, even after our aunt's intervention, speculation is running rampant, and none of it favorable for Miss Pimm.”

Damn
. “Society is full of fools. We both know that.”

“There are whispers that the family is full of gullible, naïve country folk,” Vale said. “Because they have never visited London before or entered—what many believe to be—
proper
society, they are seen as easily seduced.”

Liam swallowed, remembering last night. “I have been injured. Let's just say that I haven't been up to the task of seducing an entire family. Give me a few more days and then perhaps—”

“The
ton
does not know the extent of your injuries. Many are already whispering that there never was an attack upon you. They believe that you are holed up in a den of iniquity.”

“Which would be preferable to whatever you have planned for me, no doubt.” Liam cast a gaze of longing to his bed. He needed sleep. He needed quiet. He needed just one more taste of Adeline's lips . . . He shook his head to dislodge that errant thought. “I can only assume that is the reason you are here. You want me to make an appearance.”

“It so happens that I'm not the only one,” Vale said, withdrawing a silver emblazoned invitation from his inside pocket. “Thayne sent this. The messenger explained that our friend had the audacity to wait for Lady Strandfellow's steward to finish it before he would leave.”

Liam stared down at the card, feeling nauseous once more.
The Select Seventy
. “No doubt at an event so full of respectable, pious members of our society that I will burst into flames upon crossing the threshold.”

Vale smirked. “I don't imagine it will be spontaneous combustions, but you might be singed.”

Splendid
. Liam was already looking forward to this evening.