It Started With a Whisper Page 8

  “Forgiven.” He straightened. “I must offer my regrets as well, for stalking off the first time you attempted your handsome apology. I couldn’t trust myself not to vent my anger.”

  “I would have deserved it,” she said humbly, and meaning it.

  “You would not have. Neither of us is to blame in this. It is the beau monde.”

  “They are behaving badly.” She sighed.

  “The young bloods are vainglorious, overeager pups, without a care who is harmed by their fun. The ladies are as bad—empty-headed sheep, willing to follow anyone whistling the latest on-dit.” He shrugged. “I suppose I should thank you, though. At least it’s become fashionable with some of the ladies to encourage my reformation. There are more than a few now, who manage not to drop or run when I draw near.”

  “A small blessing,” she murmured, feeling worse than ever.

  “Not that any of their fathers will entertain an offer from a notorious, pockets-to-let fellow like me. But not to worry,” he said ironically. “My mother and aunt both have bridal candidates they wish me to meet. And that will be my fate, in the end.” The resignation in his tone set her heart to aching. “Some merchant’s daughter or cit’s girl will take me, and I’ll be grateful enough, if it allows me to set things aright at Greystone.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “But not quite yet,” he said, becoming more animated. “First I mean to make the most of this Season.”

  Surely he was too young to have worry lines at the edges of his green eyes? And it was a certainty that she shouldn’t be wishing to smooth them with a finger. “Looking for a girl with wits enough to see what a fine gentleman you are?”

  “Lord, no. There’s no use in wishful thinking. No.” He rubbed his hands together. “I mean to attend all the scientific events to be had, dance with a pretty girl or two, and finally . . .” He lowered his voice to a dramatic baritone. “I will unmask the mysterious Lady X.”

  That startled her. “Unmask Lady X? Do you think that wise?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you may not find what you expect. Who knows why she writes her gossip? Perhaps she has a good reason.”

  “A good reason to interfere with the lives of others? No. She is a shepherdess with an acid pen and she’s put it to use in altering the course of my life. Why should I not return the favor? Perhaps, in the process, I might even shake a few ladies of the ton awake. Who knows? They might even begin to think for themselves.”

  “You don’t think much of women, do you, sir?”

  “And should I? It was my own mother, sister and aunt who started all of this—all because I cut their profligate spending and forced them to tighten their belts like the rest of us at Greystone. One sent her story of my cruelty to her friends, and the other two were not to be outdone. Tales of my harsh, miserly ways and the horrors I subjected them to spread and caught the attention of Lady X. And thus my fate was sealed.”

  “But not all women are so short-sighted.”

  “True. I know more than a few good, kind and worthy women, but none of them are in the peerage. Society ladies are too often silly, shallow and short of both sense and intellect.”

  She took a step back. “I think you forget who you are speaking to, my lord. I am a lady of the peerage.”

  He merely grunted and rolled his eyes. “Well, present company excepted, of course. You don’t think I would include you in such a list of deficiencies?”

  “I think you easily could. You barely know me, after all.”

  “I know enough,” he said gruffly.

  She dipped her head. “I thank you for the compliment.” Lowering her brow, she stared at him.

  “What now? I think perhaps I know you well enough to be nervous at that look.”

  “I am getting an idea.”

  Now he truly looked alarmed.

  “You’re right,” she said baldly. She was happy to see that he was smart enough not to relax. “It is a problem, is it not?”

  He frowned. “Which? I’ve more than enough to choose from.”

  “The marriage mart.” She waved a hand. “The whole process by which the ton contracts a marriage. Titles, money, political power—they are reason enough for some people to marry. Clearly, some are happy to choose using such criteria. But not all of us. Not you, I think, sir.”

  “And not you?”

  “Definitely not me. I have different measures of a man. Is he kind? Responsible? Can he laugh at the absurdities of life? Does he have enough heart to feel the sorrows?”

  He laughed. “Good luck finding such a paragon.”

  “He’s out there,” she said confidently. “There are good men. Just as there are good women in the peerage.” She eyed him with speculation. “I daresay there is even one out there who would have you.”

  “Such a fairytale creature does not exist.” He stopped, suddenly arrested. “Unless you happen to be a fabulously wealthy heiress?”

  Disappointment gripped her, but she forced a laugh. “All the world knows that I am quite an eligible catch, despite my three and twenty years, my lord. I have a good family name and two thousand pounds set aside by my father for a respectable dowry.”

  He sighed in obvious disappointment. “Only two thousand? I need a good deal more to repair the damage my mother has wreaked in her years of stewardship.” He grinned at her. “Couldn’t you wangle more out of your brother?”

  “Ha!” she scoffed. “Catherine has tight hold of those purse strings. And I’ve no more wish to be married for money than you do to be dismissed for lack of it.”

  “I can’t blame you.” He sighed. “But neither can I help but be disappointed.” He smiled, but the heat in his gaze awoke a similar, slow burn in her belly. “I do think we’d get on well together,” he said, his tone lower.

  She shivered. “I believe there is hope for you yet.” Chin raised, she looked him up and down. “Moreover, I am going to help you find the lady you seek.”

  Now he looked interested in a different way.

  “Yes,” she continued. The idea was firming, growing. “You did me a good turn, my lord. And I am going to return the favor, as you put it.” She put a finger to her chin. “But how to go about it? It cannot be in the usual fashion, an introduction at a ball or Society event. How to show you a young lady’s truly valuable qualities?” She narrowed her gaze, thinking.

  “A scheme,” he said admiringly. “You’re getting one up, aren’t you? I can see the wheels turning.” He tilted his head. “I’ll go along with yours if you go along with mine.”

  “Yours?”

  “To unmask Lady X. Have you forgotten already?”

  “Oh.” Her heart fell. “I don’t know. I don’t think it is a good idea. People could be hurt. You could be one of them.”

  “Fine, then. I won’t ask you to assist in the actual sleuthing. But I may request that you invite me along to a Society event or two that I might not be invited to, on my own.”

  She considered. “Very well.” She extended her hand. “Shall we shake hands to mark the deal?”

  He took her hand and bowing low instead, kissed it.

  It was a very correct kiss, if unexpected. In front of witnesses. On the back of her gloved hand. Of short duration with no excessive lingering. The sort of kiss one would use to say farewell. Completely unremarkable.

  Utterly chaste—and yet not at all. Why else had her heart begun to pound? Her knees to quiver? Why should all the hairs on the back of her neck tingle and stand at attention?

  “We have an agreement,” he said, straightening and raising a brow. “And you may begin by inviting me to escort you to the Westmores’ ball tomorrow evening.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “Because her third daughter had a much-whispered about interlude with her brother’s French tutor—and Lady X virtually ignored it. I wish to know why. It might lead me to her.”

  “Oh.” She thought a moment. “The Westmores? The house is in Bedford Square is it n
ot?”

  “I believe so. Does it matter?”

  “It does.” She smiled up at him. “Yes. I believe I can make that work.”

  “Good. Tomorrow, then.” He bowed again over her hand—but did not kiss it.

  A good thing, she thought, pushing her disappointment away. She wasn’t sure her trembling knees could have withstood it.

  Chapter 4

  Society is thinner right now, with so many gone to enjoy the festivities of the Hadleigh fair . . .

  —Whispers from Lady X

  A novel sensation, actually looking forward to a night at a ton event. But Tensford couldn’t deny his eagerness as he followed the Earl of Kincade’s servant to a formal parlor just off the entry hall.

  “I will inform Lady Hope of your arrival,” the footman said with a bow. He left the parlor door open as he left.

  Coming from a family heavy with females, Tensford was more than passing familiar with the sounds of a household readying its women to go out. Doors opened and shut above, feet scurried up stairs and down passages. Whispers and hurried orders drifted downward—and so did one exchange clearly not meant for him.

  “This is the outside of enough!” It sounded like the countess—and her hiss echoed in the two-story hall. “First you insult poor Bardham, and now you entertain the pretensions of such a man! One whose horrid nicknames live in the scandal sheets!”

  “Lord Bardham has a nickname, too, did you know?” Lady Hope answered calmly. “Boredom, that’s was what he was called at school, I have learned.” Her tone firmed. “He would be known by quite a different designation, however, if it was more widely known how he treats young ladies. Lord Tensford, on the other hand, has treated me with respect and kindness.”

  “And why do you think? It’s well known that he hasn’t two shillings to rub together.”

  “And once again, Lord Tensford comes out ahead, Catherine. For while everyone whispers that he has no money, I’ve never heard a hint that he owes a sum to any man. Now move aside, please. The earl is waiting and I’ve no wish to be late.”

  Lady Kincade’s virulent complaints continued for a moment, but Tensford didn’t hear it. He was quite occupied with another novel sensation—a warm buzz of amazement and gratitude. Lady Hope Brightley was defending him. Him. Lord Terror. Lord Tender.

  It was entirely new. And surprisingly . . . touching. It kindled a small, warm flame in his chest, in the dark, echoing chamber where he usually stored his stoic indifference and stubborn determination.

  “ . . . and you didn’t even have the wits to ask for your brother’s escort tonight!” The countess was still complaining. Her voice sounded closer now, though. They must be coming downstairs. “Who knows if a man like that can even afford a carriage to get you there and back?”

  He’d heard enough. In a breach of manners he couldn’t give a damn about, he stood and strode out into the hall.

  And completely forgot his ire for a moment.

  Damnation, Lady Hope was lovely. Her gown, dark pink with an embroidered white overlay, made her skin gleam. Against the pale expanse her hair looked like dark, rich silk. She looked expensive and elegant—and entirely too good for him.

  But then she spotted him—and her smile lit up the hall like a beacon.

  Too good for him? The whisper came from somewhere deep. The hell with that.

  “Good evening,” she called, rounding the last landing. “I apologize if I’ve kept you waiting.”

  Behind her, her sister-in-law pursed her lips shut.

  “Not at all,” he replied. “But we should be going. You’ll be pleased to hear, Lady Kincade, that Miss Nichols and her mother are waiting in the carriage outside. Although I can well afford to transport Lady Hope about London, tonight I can save a few shillings. I’ll be sure to rub them together in your honor.”

  The countess’s mouth snapped open, then closed again. Lady Hope was trying not to grin as she let the footman help her into her cloak.

  Tensford took her arm, nodded to the countess, and strode for the door. Yes, indeed. It was a good start to what he hoped would be a better night.

  The receiving line at Lady Westmore’s snaked, unexpectedly long, through the fine London townhouse. Hope didn’t mind. Miss Nichols and her mama, just ahead, were occupied greeting their many friends and acquaintances. She, on the other hand, was quite occupied admiring her escort.

  So tall and erect, he stood. Stern. Unmistakably assured. And everyone stared. They tried and tried to knock him down with their whispers, raised brows and sly glances, but he refused to be cowed. It had the opposite effect, in fact. He looked like a sleek cat set amongst the pigeons, too proud to be interested in such, dull, uninspiring prey.

  How annoying they must find him.

  How alluring she found him.

  But now was not the time for that. Only a tigress could tame the tiger. She had to be smart and stealthy.

  “I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable in the carriage,” she told him. “I didn’t expect Mrs. Nichols to warn you off her daughter so bluntly.”

  He shot her a wry grin. “It was unexpected, but actually I found it refreshing. She stated the situation plainly and now we all know where we stand. I think we’ll all get along the better for it.” Looking ahead, he lowered his voice a little. “I did find it surprising that Miss Nichols has no intention of marrying soon. Is not the firing off of daughters the whole idea of the Season—and quickly, with the least expense?”

  Hope glanced fondly at her friend. “Not for that family. She is an only child and her parents quite dote on her. Miss Nichols is quite the favorite this Season and I believe all three of them are having a grand time. It’s no wonder they would wish to repeat it next Season.”

  “What of you?” he asked. “I gather your sister-in-law wishes you to marry. This is your first Season, I believe? What do you wish out of it?”

  “Catherine wants me out of her house, it’s true, but she only wishes me to consider her candidate.”

  “Bardham,” he said with disgust.

  “Yes. He’s vile—and persistent.”

  She hadn’t thought it possible for him to grow more intense, but he stiffened and every plane on his face sharpened. “He’s bothered you again?”

  “Not bothered, precisely. But he does seem to pop up everywhere when I am out. The park, the shops, the lending library. Suddenly, I’ll look up—and there he is.”

  “I’ll warn him off.” His tone had gone tighter, too.

  “Thank you, but I don’t think it will be necessary. Truly, I believe he’s flabbergasted. I’m not sure anyone has ever refused him anything, before.”

  Tensford frowned. “He never liked to lose, or be denied anything. Only so much fuss a gentleman can make about either, but he did always skirt the boundaries.”

  She shrugged. “Something will distract him soon enough. In any case, to answer your question—I came to Town just hoping to enjoy myself,” she said wistfully.

  “Your first Season was delayed—and your parents are gone. I gather those two are related?” he asked with sympathy.

  “Yes. Papa died unexpectedly and swiftly.” She tried to keep her tone brisk and matter of fact. “Mama’s illness began just after we left off mourning—and it lingered.”

  In the most horrid manner, it had gone on, sapping the strength and everything else from her gentle mother. For so long, Hope’s world had consisted of darkened rooms and long nights and endless attempts to tempt her mother’s nonexistent appetite or distract her from her ever-present pain. When she had finally emerged from her second mourning, she had wanted only freedom, light, air and laughter. “I want art and music and dancing and to visit all of the sights in London. I want the freedom to breathe and to play and to plan and to think about the ways I can be productive and useful in my life.”

  “And what of the marriage mart?” he asked, indicating the crowd around them. “Is a husband not part of that future life?”

  “Of course,” she
said a little irritably. “Neither my younger sister nor I will be able to avoid marriage. But I will choose—and not a man like Bardham.”

  “No,” he agreed firmly.

  “I’ve earned that much,” she said, feeling righteous and a little belligerent. “And my brother will not sway me. I’ll make my own choice, and when I find the right man I will move heaven and earth to get him.”

  Quite unexpectedly, he stepped closer. He stared down at her with those bright blue eyes and it happened again. The air between them fairly danced, it was so charged. “I believe you will,” he rasped.

  “Lady Hope? Ahem.” Someone cleared a throat.

  She started. It was their turn. They’d reached their hosts in the line. Lord and Lady Westmore welcomed her warmly, and though they appeared a little surprised to find Tensford with her, they welcomed him, as well.

  They moved quickly through the rest of the family and emerged at the end of the line to find Miss Nichols and her mama waiting. Tensford stood, looking about at the parlors set with dining tables on either side of the passage and the doors ahead of them, standing open to the ballroom.

  “What do you think of the Westmore’s home?” he asked her.

  Surprised at the question, she looked around. “It looks very fine tonight.” She frowned at the ice blue wallpaper featured in both parlors and the many glass and china accents. “I wonder if it might not feel . . . cold, perhaps, when it is not filled with guests.”

  “I wondered the same thing.”

  “Come along, you two!” Mrs. Nichols called. “Reserve a dance with the ladies while you may, Lord Tensford,” she ordered. “I predict these two will be kept very busy tonight.”

  “Of course.” He received the promise of a quadrille with Miss Nichols and then turned to Hope.

  “I’ll be so bold as to grant you the supper dance, my lord,” she said, sparkling up at him. “I confess, I’ll be very curious to hear all of your . . . observations of the evening.”

  “It will be a pleasure.” Making his bow, he shot her a grin and moved off into the crowd.