A Perfect Gentleman (24 page)

And because she ate like a bird, Stony thought, noting the sparse selection of food on her plate. Still, he was happy for Ellianne's sop to his
amour propre,
and pleased that she had thought to come to his defense.

“The man was
aux anges
at the opportunity to cook for a duchess,” Ellianne concluded. “I'll be lucky if he returns home.”

The duchess smiled, glad the unfortunate matter was so easily smoothed. Stony smiled at Ellianne in thanks, and she smiled back at him. Sir John curled his lip.

Stony ignored it, for it was Miss Kane's lip that had snared his attention. She had a little bit of custard from the sweets course at the corner of her mouth, a tiny drop, like nectar on a peach. Lud, what he wouldn't give to play honeybee and gather that confection to himself. He'd start at her lip, then see if her mouth tasted half as sweet. He'd…spill wine in his lap if he did not pay attention to his meal.

He turned to the duchess and entered into a lively—and proper—debate on the merits of the refreshments served at several recent gatherings they had both attended. Miss Kane and Sir John, Stony was glad to hear, without having to crane his neck too far, were discussing the various offerings at the London theaters. The theater? Stony interrupted Her Grace in midsentence to inform the jumped-up mortician that Miss Kane was already promised to him and Lady Wellstone for Drury Lane that week.

Before Ellianne could deny any such appointment, or the duchess could descry his manners, Gwen stood, signaling the end to the dinner, and time for the ladies to withdraw. Stony stood and held back Her Grace's chair, pleased to see an unfamiliar footman performing the same service for Miss Kane. He must be one of hers, then, helping for the night, but Stony did not mind that he wasn't paying the man's salary. In fact, he'd give the chap extra, for an exemplary job.

Stony did not sit back down, not near Sir John. He carried his port around to where his friend Lord Charles was lighting a cigar. Stony declined the offer to join him in blowing a cloud. Damn if his mind wasn't already befogged. He did raise his glass once more to Charlie and his engagement.

“Your lady is looking lovely tonight, Charlie.” Lady Valentina was indeed looking prettier than ever. She still wore the virginal white of an unmarried maiden, but her gown was trimmed in flowing blue ribbons that matched her eyes and, not coincidentally, the forget-me-knots embroidered on Charlie's waistcoat. Charlie smiled his agreement through the smoke ring he blew. “A regular diamond of the first water.”

“You've made an excellent choice.” They both knew Lord Charles had been given few options, once Captain Brisbane decamped and Stony declined.

“I think so.” Charlie took another puff, then looked to see that most of the other men were busy relieving themselves, or laughing over some ribald joke. “You know,” he said when he was certain they would not be overheard, “I wondered why you gave Val up. She's beautiful.”

Stony raised his glass to that.

“And wealthy.”

Stony sipped again.

“And spirited.”

Too spirited for Stony's taste, trapping a man into marriage, but he did not say so.

“She's wellborn and intelligent to boot, so I asked myself what was wrong with her, that you didn't want the lady.”

“It was nothing like that. I—”

“After all, we all have to wed someday, and you even have that title to carry on. Val would have made the perfect bride for you. Yet you pushed her my way.”

“I did not—”

Charlie stared up at the gray cloud rising above him. “No question but that Earl Patten wanted you for a son-in-law, not me. So I wondered, you know. Until now.”

“Now?” What, had Charlie discovered his bride-to-be was a designing minx who'd try to rule his household?

“Yes, now that I have seen Miss Kane.”

“You are far out there, old boy. The situations are nothing alike. You know I am acting as companion for the lady, nothing else.”

Charlie ignored him. “What a woman! Not that I am not happy with Lady Val, of course. Suits me to a cow's thumb. But your Miss Kane…”

“She is not my anything,” Stony insisted. “Except a bit of escort duty.”

“Hah. I saw the way you were looking at her, like she was on the menu. Not that I blame you. Any man would. Unless he is newly engaged, of course.”

And newly under the cat's paw.

Out loud, Stony said, “Miss Kane is indeed an attractive female.”

Charlie snorted. “My mother is an attractive female. Miss Kane is something else. Who would have thought to find such beauty in a banker's daughter? And he's dead, the father, so you do not even have to worry over a merchant's stain on your family escutcheon. You lucky dog.”

“Devil take it, Charlie, I am not going to marry Miss Kane. She is wealthy and beautiful, educated and reasonably clever, for a woman. She is everything you say, and more.” Stony recalled her loyal and thoughtful defense. She could have left him confessing to his dinner guests that he could barely afford the peas on their plates. “But she is not for me. I'd never live off my wife.” Then he recalled to whom he was speaking. “That is, dash it, I am not in the market for a bride.”

Charlie stubbed out his cigar and stood up. He looked back at his friend in regret. “Then you are a bigger fool, Stony, than I thought you were the day you turned down my Valentina.”

Chapter Eighteen

Whoever dictated that the gentlemen should stay apart from the ladies after dinner anyway? Stony wanted to go make sure Ellianne was faring all right among the women, but he could not. He was the host, and so had to make sure the wine kept flowing and the talk stayed convivial. Much longer and they wouldn't be able to see the door through the smoke, and Lord Aldershott might have to be carried out.

Stony kept checking his watch. The deuced thing must have stopped working while sojourning at the pawnshop, for the minute hand did not seem to be moving. He went to join a knot of gentlemen at the other end of the table, not seeing Strickland among them until it was too late. Like everyone else, the baron had enjoyed the meal. His neckcloth and waistcoat hadn't. Stony would rather speak with anyone else—except Sir John Thomasford, of course. The knighted night crawler was talking to Comte Villanoire over by the liquor tray, likely exchanging gory details about the guillotine.

Stony was about to find that helpful footman and tell him to offer Strickland a fresh cravat, from Stony's wardrobe. Before he could locate the servant in the smoke-filled corners of the dining room, Strickland called to him. “I say, Wellstone,” he said in a voice made jovial by the fine meal and louder by the wine. “You had me fooled, you did.”

It would not take much to fool the beef-witted baron. Stony reminded himself once more that he was the host. If the rule separating the sexes after dinner made no sense, the one about not insulting a guest in one's house made less. If he were offended, the lout might leave. But Stony had invited the man, on a whim that seemed worthy at the time, so he raised one blond eyebrow and asked, “How is that, sir?”

“I thought you were interested in the younger Kane gal, not the hellcat heiress. I'll admit she's looking better than I have ever seen her. Your stepmama's influence, I'd wager. Still, you ought to reconsider. This one ain't going to make a conformable wife.” Perhaps the man was not such a fool after all. Miss Ellianne Kane was one of the least conformable, least comfortable women Stony had ever encountered. She was a guest in his house too, though, and he would not have her name bandied about by an old whoremonger with creamed carrots on his cravat.

“That will be some other fellow's problem,” Stony replied as casually as tightened jaw muscles would allow. “I am just helping my stepmother's young friend find her feet in Town, not a husband.”

Strickland laughed. “I know what I saw. Daresay everyone in the drawing room saw. But I can tell by those daggers you're sending my way that you don't want to give away your plans too soon. Quite right, my boy, quite right. No formal announcement, nothing signed, no notice in the papers, means you can still back out. Take your time, lad. Once you get to know the harridan you'll be glad you didn't commit yourself. Else you'll commit yourself after the wedding, to Bedlam.” He gave a hearty laugh that had half the men turning to look. “Of course, by then you won't need a wife, just a boys' choir to join.”

He slapped his meaty thigh. For all Stony knew, it had veal and lamb and beef stains on it. Then, “By the way,” Strickland said just before he would have found his teeth joining the carrots down his shirtfront, “did you ever locate the younger sister? Miss Isabelle Kane, that is?”

Stony looked around to make sure Sir John was not listening, to give him the lie. “Of course. A slight misunderstanding led to the confusion. Miss Isabelle is visiting family in the north. She left before receiving the note that her sister was coming to town, and Miss Kane left her home before hearing of Miss Isabelle's plans. I believe there are papers to sign concerning their aunt's estate, but they can wait. Gwen has convinced Miss Kane to participate in the Season a bit, rather than returning home to wait there for her sister's arrival from those relatives.”

One of the other gentlemen nearby quipped, “I hope those kinfolks have harder heads than Lady Augusta.”

Not even Strickland thought that was funny, remembering Lady Augusta with a surprising degree of fondness. Maybe the old clutchpurse had left Strickland something in her will, too. Changing the subject, the baron said, “I didn't know the chits were on terms with the Chansford side of their family. The old marquess swore he'd never recognize Ellis Kane or any of his brood.”

“But the current Marquess of Chaston is the girls' uncle,” Stony offered, lest anyone look too closely at his Banbury tale. “Perhaps he's had a change of heart.”

“Or he sees a way to get hold of the younger gal's fortune. She's not even twenty yet, is she?”

Stony said, “I do not believe so, no.”

“Well, Chaston would still be a better guardian for the chit than any of the Kane relatives. Smugglers, the lot of them. Lady Augusta swore that's where the brass to found the bank came from. Hell, if the girl went off visiting any of them, she'd come back sounding like a Billingsgate fishwife.”

Or a pirate's parrot.

Stony checked his watch again. This time he rapped it on the table to get the blasted thing working.

Then Lord Aldershott shot the cat, casting his accounts on Stony's silver epergne.

*

Things were not much better in the drawing room.

First, Lady Valentina truly knew nothing about Isabelle. She was a few years older than Isabelle, more established in London society, and had a different circle of acquaintances than any Lady Augusta would encourage.

“No, I am sorry I cannot be of more assistance,” Lady Val said, checking her hair for loose pins, after taking a place beside Ellianne on a sofa. “But why do you want to know your sister's friends? Young girls are all ninnyhammers,” she said, as if Ellianne were in her dotage.

“I was hoping to plan a small gathering for when she returned,” Ellianne explained. “Her trip could not have been pleasant, with Aunt Augusta's funeral and all, and I wished to give Isabelle a bit of gaiety before we left for home. There is not much room in the Sloane Street house, however, so I wanted to invite Isabelle's closest acquaintances. And mine, of course,” she added, lest Lady Valentina thought Ellianne was rejecting her overtures of friendship. The younger woman was a frothy confection of fashion, snobbery, and pleasure-seeking; in other words, a typical London miss. She was still a lively, good-natured companion, it seemed, whose biggest concern was how many of her own dearest friends could fit into St. George's for her wedding. So far, it sounded to Ellianne as if half of London would be invited.

After giving Ellianne a thorough description of the wedding plans, from the gown she would wear to the flowers she would carry, Lady Valentina floated over toward the pianoforte, tuned for the occasion, and started to play a popular song.

Gwen's cousin's wife and her sister, Mrs. Collins, took up the vacated seats near Ellianne, beginning to quiz her about her connection to the Wellstones.

Ellianne looked around for her hostess, but Gwen and the duchess had their heads together at the opposite end of the room. Ellianne would give a month's income to know what those two charming connivers were up to, but she could not intrude. Lady Aldershott and another woman Ellianne had met earlier but had not spoken with since were examining a collection of Staffordshire dogs on the mantel. The last two female guests, also mere names to Ellianne so far, must be visiting the ladies' retiring rooms. No one was going to interrupt this rude inquisition.

Ellianne raised her chin. Stony would have recognized the sign of proud determination, but Mrs. Collins chose not to.

“Dear Gwen is always bear-leading some unfortunate girl or other,” the widow was saying. “Never tell me you have no respectable female relative of your own? Of course there was the unpleasantness concerning Lady Augusta, wasn't there?”