The Devil and the Viscount, page 10
“You’re foxed, Meade,” Lord Dominic uttered. “It’s as well the bottle’s empty.”
The angry young man was not distracted. If anything, he was even more furious. In fact, he made a grab for the glass he had recently put down, no doubt to dash it in Rollo’s face.
Rollo was quicker. He closed his hand around the boy’s wrist, making sure he could not lift it. The liquid slopped up the sides of the glass but did not spill.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Rollo said below his breath. “If you throw that over me, the whole world will know it and speculate. It won’t be long until the name you imagine you’re protecting will be all over London. How much good will that do her?”
“Then you will meet me!”
“I will not.”
The boy stared at him. “Because you imagine I am beneath you? Or that she is?”
“Neither, you imbecile. Because there is nothing to fight about.”
In desperation, the boy turned to Rollo’s friends. “What is the matter with him? Is he a coward? Too full of his own nobility to fight a banker’s son?”
“Don’t push your luck,” Lord Dominic advised softly.
The young man glared at him defiantly. “Very well. I am told his lordship is no stranger to duels, so I can only suppose it is my lack of noble blood that troubles him.”
“No,” Rollo said, uneasily aware that the room was almost silent. A couple of gentlemen had stood up and were trying to hover a bit nearer to hear.
“Well, my lord? Can I expect to hear from you?”
“Yes, yes,” Rollo said testily. “For God’s sake go away.”
The young man stood and dropped a card on the table before walking off, his back rigid.
Rollo swore softly but fluently.
“Not sure you’ll be able to keep this quiet,” Lord Dominic murmured. “Whatever it’s about.”
Rollo lifted his brandy glass. “It’s been a busy evening,” he observed.
Chapter Ten
Meade and Montague were already in Rollo’s dressing room at midday, drinking coffee when Fitz and Lord Dominic were shown in.
“Well?” Rollo demanded.
“He won’t budge,” Fitz said cheerfully.
“He did accept us as seconds,” Dominic said, “once we explained the sense of keeping the lady’s name between the six of us. But he wouldn’t believe that you were innocent of her charges and won’t withdraw his challenge.”
“Idiot,” Rollo fumed. “I have enough to do without this. Can’t he see what the girl’s like?”
“Vindictive little liar?” Dominic said sardonically. “I suppose she couldn’t be persuaded to tell this lad—what’s his name?”
“James Black. His father owns Black’s Bank.”
“Would she tell Black the truth once she understands she could be signing his death warrant?”
“Or Rollo’s,” Montague pointed out.
“I suppose she might have calmed down by now,” Rollo said dubiously. “And she can’t marry me if I’m dead.”
“You won’t be dead,” Meade said. “You’ve never lost a duel. But if you kill him, you’ll have to leave the country.”
“There is that,” Rollo said with a certain amount of longing. He could flee with Gina, live in France or Italy… He sighed. “I don’t want to kill the gudgeon. But I doubt Miss Smythe cares if he lives or not, so long as she can get at me. I suppose… As the challenged party, I get to choose weapons, so I could make it swords and first blood wins.”
“Won’t stop a whole party setting up at Putney Heath to see the fun,” Dominic foretold. “Your Mr. Black was not entirely discreet.”
“I expect Miss Smythe’s name is already linked to the quarrel, too,” Fitz said. “More than one person must have seen her overcome on the terrace. And you were in the vicinity.”
“With another woman entirely,” Montague pointed out. “Though I suppose that would become lost.”
Rollo scowled. “Keep it that way. I’ll not have her name dragged into this. And if everyone wants to waste their time at Putney, arrange it somewhere else.”
“Where?” Dominic asked.
Rollo stood and reached for his coat. “I don’t know, but I’ll think about it. Finish the coffee if you want. I have an appointment. Escorting Hope to meet some friends.”
*
“Miss Wallace!” Mrs. Snodgrass sounded genuinely surprised as she welcomed Gina into a room that appeared to be half-drawing room, half-study.
Gina took the proffered hand. “Thank you for seeing me. I know it’s early for a morning call.”
“Not for me. I don’t lie abed half the day. I have work to do. Please, sit down, and I’ll ring for tea.”
“Not for me, ma’am. I have an appointment, so I won’t trouble you for long.” Gina caught herself twisting her skirts between her fingers and forced them to stop. She looked directly at her amiable but curious hostess who had sat on the other side of the sofa. “You will think me impertinent, Mrs. Snodgrass.”
“If I do, I’ll tell you. Are you related to Robert Wallace, of Wallace and Son in Manchester?”
“He is my father.”
“Then I expect your reasons for the Season’s festivities are much the same as mine. There’s only one thing left to do when you’ve made as much money as Robert Wallace and me. And that’s to seek acceptance for your children among the highest of the land. That involves marriage, rather like a commercial transaction. I don’t let ’em pretend otherwise. But I think the whole business bothers you. You’re younger, of course.”
“And it was not my idea,” Gina admitted.
“And now you’re supposed to marry Longton, and you don’t like it.”
Gina, who was still feeling her way toward a half-formed plan, let that remark go. “My impertinent question is this. Do you love Lord Darblay?”
Mrs. Snodgrass smiled. “Darblay? He’s handsome, young, impudent, and fun. What is there not to like?”
Oh, he is more, so much more than that… “That wasn’t my question, ma’am,” Gina pointed out.
Mrs. Snodgrass was silent, searching Gina’s face. “I’m ten years his senior, at least. I have two sons almost grown. Darblay is a rogue, but however wicked, he is a boy to me. My Snoddy was not a boy.”
“You still love your late husband,” Gina said gently.
“I do. But I will still take another. As for you… It is not fair if you don’t have a choice. Just make sure you don’t pick another wrong one in retaliation. Think carefully on whatever you are about.”
“I will,” Gina assured her, rising to her feet. “And you have helped me a great deal.”
“I have?” Mrs. Snodgrass looked baffled. “Well, let me know if I can help further.”
Gina smiled. “I might just call upon you. Thank you, ma’am. Goodbye!”
Deep in thought, she hurried through Mayfair toward Hyde Park. The germ of an idea that had been gnawing at her since returning to the ballroom last night, after Miss Smythe’s little fracas, was growing apace and bringing with it the same sense of reckless excitement and purpose. Much like the notion of inviting the viscount to bed her.
She had not properly understood the ramifications of that invitation. She had been aware that, in different circumstances, she could have fallen in love with Rollo Darblay. That had been the root of her proposal. To give her just one memory of love to cherish in the difficult years ahead.
But it wasn’t enough. She had bargained without the bonds that their delicious intimacy seemed to have woven around them, and without feelings, which refused to do as they were told. In retrospect, her idea had been naïve and dangerous. For it seemed wrong in every conceivable way to marry one man while loving another. To let Rollo tie himself for life to someone else.
It was nearly time for her father to announce her betrothal. So time was running out. That reckless little seed was sending out shoots all over the place and growing apace.
“Miss Wallace?”
Gina paused, blinking to drag herself back to the present. She had walked through the gates of Hyde Park and a large, excited dog was dancing about in front of her, shoving its nose into her hand. She petted it absently, while she took in the group of people she hadn’t known she was meeting—Catherine Dove and her siblings, Hope Darblay…and the viscount whom she had come to meet. Preserving her reputation, he had brought her trustworthy chaperones.
His consideration warmed the smile already spreading involuntarily across her face at the sight of him. And just for an instant, he reminded her of the moment he had first looked up at her in the ladies’ lounge, astonished, confused, almost dazzled. Although there was something much warmer in his eyes now that she felt right down to her toes, a smile playing on those sinful, passionate lips.
Hastily, she forced out words of greeting and curtseyed to the company, which then set off in jolly fashion. Catherine led the way toward a quiet area of the park where there was enough open grass for the dog to run. There was also a bench where two people could sit comfortably, part of a group and yet distant enough to be private when everyone else played with the dog. Gina suspected Catherine came here frequently with Mr. Holles.
Today, however, Lord Darblay handed Gina onto the seat and sat beside her, one arm over the back of the bench as he turned toward her.
“Don’t do it,” he said abruptly.
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. “Marry Longton?”
“It’s the only life you have. Don’t waste it on him.”
She waited, her heart beating fast, but he didn’t repeat the offer he had made at the hotel. “If your father wants a noble fortune hunter, have me instead.” No offer, no declaration of love.
She swallowed, trying not to let the hurt swamp her need to know, and gazed up at the sky. “What do you think would have happened, Rollo, if we had met in different circumstances? If I were not wealthy and engaged, and you were not hanging out for a rich wife?”
“Exactly what has happened between us.” He frowned. “Except you wouldn’t have invited me to bed you. And I probably wouldn’t have done it. I could have courted you.”
She risked a glance at him. “If we had been able to marry, would you have kept your ladybirds?”
A groan of laughter broke from him. “Gina, I wouldn’t even have thought of them. Don’t you know that?”
Warmth seeped into her anxious heart at the endearment as much as the sentiment. Her heart ached because he looked at once so wonderfully rakish and handsome and honest, and he was not hers. Not yet. “Life isn’t fair, is it?”
“No. You just have to make the best of it.”
“For everyone,” she said frowning. She risked a glance at him. “My father gave his word to Longton.”
Rollo’s lips tightened. His eyes spat. “He had no right.”
This was even more encouraging. Her heart lifted further. “Legally, he had not. I am of age. But I did go along with it, and I would hate to be responsible for his breaking his word for the first time ever.”
Rollo threw himself against the back of the bench. “So you told me,” he said savagely.
“I wanted to know,” she said, forcing herself to keep watching him when the cowardly part of her was afraid to see, “if you thought it would be a good idea for Longton to break his word.”
His gaze flew to hers. He sat up again, his eyes devouring her. “I think it would be the best idea you’ve ever had, including the one at Maida. But how would we make him do that?”
Her heart almost burst. We. He had said “we.” “I haven’t quite worked that out yet, but he has quite definite ideas of what he doesn’t want in a wife. I just have to convince him I have those foibles in spades.”
Fierce laughter gleamed in Rollo’s eyes. “You are quite unexpectedly bad on occasion. This is why—”
“Rollo, look out!” Hope called just as a stick flew over their heads, and the massive dog, approaching at high speed, threatened to leap after it. Gina and Rollo scattered to either side, laughing.
Part of her was infuriated, because Rollo might just have been about to say, “This is why I love you.” But in truth, she didn’t need the words. She already knew.
*
“There you are,” exclaimed Mrs. Fitzwilliam when she returned to the house. “Come into the drawing room. You just missed Lord Longton, and all the servants knew was that you had gone to walk in the park with friends. You did not even take Little!”
“Oh, I left early, and she was up so late last night to undress me,” Gina said truthfully. Not that she had wanted Little to know she had visited Mrs. Snodgrass or held a long, private conversation with Lord Darblay. A wonderful conversation with Lord Darblay. She sat down opposite Mrs. Fitzwilliam and asked brightly. “Did Lord Longton disapprove of my unaccompanied expedition?”
“Don’t be silly. I wasn’t foolish enough to tell him it was unaccompanied. I told him it was with the Doves, so I hope that was correct.”
“It was,” Gina said.
“Good. Well, you will be pleased to know that he is delighted with the way you are progressing in society. He called you a most graceful and unaffected girl with excellent manners and no foolish airs.”
“How kind of him.” Gina tried to keep the panic from her voice. It struck her that Longton might well have come to formalize their betrothal. She could only pray he would do nothing before speaking with her. But it made her plans much more urgent. She sat forward. “Tell me about his lordship, ma’am. You must have known him for years.”
“Well, yes, we have always moved in the same circles. In fact, as you know, it was I who introduced him to your dear father.”
And like everyone else, she had imagined she was doing Gina and her family a good turn. “He seems a man of some contradictions,” Gina said carefully. “Very high in the instep, although he is considering a mill-owner’s daughter as his wife.”
“You have no vulgarity about you. You are a ladylike lady.”
Not in Rollo Darblay’s bed. “He loves gaming,” Gina pursued, “and yet disapproves of it for ladies. Even you gamble, Mrs. Fitz.”
“There is nothing wrong with ladies playing cards and gambling in moderation,” Mrs. Fitzwilliam pronounced. “But his lordship’s little foible is understandable. His first wife was addicted to the gaming tables and lost a small fortune.”
“Then it was his wife who gambled away their fortune?”
“She certainly didn’t help. But no, I don’t think we can blame it entirely on her. That doesn’t mean,” Mrs. Fitzwilliam added hastily, “that he has not learned the error of his ways. He is an older and wiser man now.”
“Of course. What else does he dislike in a lady?”
“Any breath of scandal,” Mrs. Fitzwilliam replied at once. “Which is one reason I thought of you. You were always such a well-behaved and dutiful girl. And he dislikes untidiness of any sort—about one’s person or one’s abode. He once gave an amiable gentleman the cut direct for having a mere drop of sauce on his cravat! And he rejected at least one prospective wife for sitting on a sofa surrounded by two novels, her needlework, and a writing desk. He dislikes the smell of horse and cannot abide pet animals.”
Gina’s breath caught. “How…helpful. Tell me more, Mrs. Fitz.”
*
Rollo, since he still held membership, strolled round to White’s to meet his friends for dinner and learn the latest about the irritation that was his latest duel.
He found Meade and Montague drinking brandy with Fitz. Dominic Gorse was not present, being a married man who liked to spend time with his wife. Wenning was the same. Something else Rollo better understood, now.
“He won’t budge,” Fitz greeted him. “Won’t admit he was in the wrong.”
“And obviously we can’t apologize for something you didn’t do,” Meade put in.
“So, stalemate there,” Fitz said. “But he has agreed to the unusual venue of our choice.”
“What unusual venue?” Rollo asked without much interest. He was thinking about Gina and ways to make Longton cry off the engagement.
“Maida Gardens.”
That got his attention. “Maida?” A breath of laughter shook him, though he didn’t quite know why, unless because it was where he had met Gina and it seemed like good luck. “Can we get into the gardens at that time of the morning?”
“Not easily, but there’s a decent meadow at the side, and Renwick’s Hotel is handy for breakfast afterward.”
“Very true,” Rollo agreed, much struck by this sensible arrangement. “And he was fine about swords?”
“Well, he went a bit white when Dom told him that was your choice,” Fitz replied. “So, I suspect he lacks experience in fencing.”
Rollo sighed. “Well, I’ll get it over with quickly, and we can move on. The Smythe girl isn’t spreading this story about town, is she?”
“She might have, more fool her.” Montague shook his head. “She doesn’t seem to realize a duel over her will ruin her in polite society. But no one should know about Maida. Best we can do.”
*
By evening, Gina had several possible plans in her head, though they all resulted in the ruin of her reputation, which she could not countenance for her family’s sake if not her own. She retired early, in the hope that sleep would bring wisdom.
Unfortunately, it didn’t. But as she waited in the hall for Mrs. Fitzwilliam—they were due to attend Princess Hagerin’s Venetian breakfast—the butler picked up the morning post and handed her a letter in her father’s hand.
She sat down on the nearest chair and broke the seal. As she scanned the letter, a stifled groan escaped her lips, and then, as she read on, she began to smile.
“Good news?” Mrs. Fitzwilliam asked, bustling toward her.
“From Papa,” Gina said, handing her the letter. “He is on his way to London and proposes to stop for a night, as we did, at Renwick’s Hotel. I told him in my last letter about the delightful music at the pleasure garden, and he proposes we join him there for a few hours.”
“He proposes first that we meet him there and dine at the hotel the night before,” Mrs. Fitzwilliam pointed out, saving Gina the trouble. “Which is quite an unnecessary expense.”
