Code of Honor (15 page)

"Alex! My dear Alex, I should say. I fear I can no longer contain my feelings..."

If she were prone to headaches, she was sure she would have developed one now. What an evening!

"Charles," she said gently, disengaging his arm and turning to face him squarely.

"Please don't interrupt me, else my courage may fail me!"

"Oh, Charles. You are a dear friend, but I should not suit you at all."

He looked perplexed. "But why? I don't understand."

"I am too opinionated, too outspoken, for one."

"I am sure you would learn to temper your feelings..."

"I am sure I would not," she replied firmly. "I assure you, for a man in your position, who hopes to advance in the ministry, I would be liability."

That gave him pause to think. "But Alex, perhaps..."

"It is truly for the best."

"I..."

The sound of approaching footsteps curtailed any further discussion. A figure appeared from around a boxwood hedge, wreathed in the pungent smoke from a thick cheroot. Its progress was stopped short by the couple in the middle of the path. Alex hastily took a step back from her companion, pulling away from his encircling grasp as Branford exhaled slowly, forming a couple of perfect O's that drifted lazily away in the breeze as he regarded the two of them .

"Is there a new country dance?" he inquired dryly. "One that entails jaunts down garden paths?"

Charles stiffened. "I was just taking Alex — Miss Chilton — back to the ballroom. She was feeling a trifle... overheated."

"Good. Then you may take yourself off while she finishes cooling off. I shall escort Miss Chilton back as soon as I have had a word with her."

"I'll not leave Miss Chilton out here in the dark alone... "

"She will not be alone."

Charles stopped, nonplussed. "That is what I meant, sir. Alone with you."

"You seem a trifle confused. If she is with me, she will not be alone," pointed out the earl.

Charles was momentarily speechless, his face betraying a mixture of anger and consternation.

"That's quite enough," snapped Alex, barely retraining the urge to stamp her foot. "How dare either of you discuss what I may or may not do as if I was not present and capable of making up my own mind."

Charles flushed while Branford's mouth twitched at the corners.

She caught his expression and threw a black look at him before speaking directly to Duckleigh.

"Charles, you may return to the ballroom while I listen to what Lord Branford wishes to say. As a gentleman, he will naturally provide a proper escort back to my friends."

Charles clenched his hands into fists but her words gave him no alternative. "If that is what you wish, Alex, then obviously I shall abide by your decision." He bowed formally to her and, throwing one last glare at the earl, retreated with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Hmmmph," remarked Branford, casually blowing another smoke ring. "Your friend has more gumption than I would have given him credit for."

"His emotions are rather out of check tonight. And no doubt it did not help matters that you interrupted when he was making his declaration..."

Branford choked on a mouthful of smoke. "

What!" he managed to sputter.

"I said, he was asking me to marry him when you..."

"That's ridiculous!"

For the second time during the evening, Alex was stung by his words. "Oh, you think it impossible that someone would wish to marry me?"

"What I meant, Miss Chilton, was that, in my opinion, it would not be a fortuitous match."

"Because Charles lacks a fortune and I am plain?"

"Because he is in awe of you and you would tire of it rather quickly."

She was amazed at by how astute he had divined the very essence of why she had rejected Charles — but in her current mood, there was no way she was going to acknowledge it."

"No, what you really meant was that you cannot conceive of a gentleman being attracted to anyone who does not have long lashes or a well-endowed...." She faltered, knowing she was being childish.

"You seem intent on deliberately misunderstanding me this evening," said Branford softly. He dropped his cheroot onto the gravel and ground out the glowing tip with his boot. "Perhaps it would be best if I take you back to your friends." His eyes drifted from her stormy face down a trifle lower and rested there for a moment. "And you have no reason to be jealous of Lady Cameron's endowments."

This time she did stamp her foot. "I am not jealous of Lady Cameron!"

He looked at her curiously for a moment before taking her arm. They walked in silence, the only sounds the crunching of their steps on the gravel, until they came to the steps of the terrace leading up to the french doors of the ballroom. The faint sound of conversation and music wafted out.

"By the way," said Branford, drawing them to a halt. "May I be the first to offer my congratulations."

Alex looked at him as if he were speaking Hindu. "What are you talking about?"

"Your impending nuptials, Miss Chilton. I mean to wish you happy."

"Oh that. Of course I'm not marrying Charles."

"Why not?"

Alex thought for a moment. "That, Lord Branford, is most certainly not a topic of conversation open to you."

He made no reply but there was laughter in his eyes as he led her back into the room to join her friends.

Branford left the ball immediately Walking amid the crush of carriages, he located his own and waved it home without him. In his current state of mind, he preferred a long walk. If it were June, he thought ruefully, the evening's crosscurrents of emotions might be written off — as the Bard himself had done — as the effects of Midsummer Night's Eve. But in truth, he had no better explanation for the strange way he was feeling.

She had been glad to see him, of that he was sure. He smiled briefly at the recollection of how her eyes had lit up with that mesmerizing mix of hazel and green. It was damnably nice to have someone look at you that way, he mused. But her mood had changed so quixotically! Whatever in the world had made her say such ludicrous things? How could she think to be jealous over a piece of baggage like Lady Cameron — his long legs stopped abruptly in mid stride.

Jealous.

He came to a halt, his walking stick tapping thoughtfully against his leg. Could it be that she... cared that Lady Cameron had all but invited him into her bed? He began walking again. He had to admit the idea had rather intriguing connotations. But remembering her next words was like a dash of cold water. She had made it quite clear his affairs meant nothing to her. He shook his head.

Well, regardless of her feelings toward him something had been bothering her. Why else would she have made those absurd comments about not being attractive. At least her innate good sense had prevailed in rejecting that presumptuous clerk. The pup was no match for her — in any regard. She deserved... more. But why should he care about her affairs? That gave him pause to think. Because they had become friends, and friends cared for the happiness of one another. He merely wanted to see her with the chance of being happy. God knows, she deserved that, after all she had been through.

Another ghost of a smile came to his lips when he thought about her parting words to him. The minx, to throw his own set-down back in his face! Throughout all the trying circumstances of her upbringing she had not lost her sharp wit and quick sense of humor. Why, she was the only person besides Henry and Cecelia that he looked forward to conversing with. He would miss that, he supposed, if she married some dull dog like Duckleigh. A dull dog who had the termidity to call her by her given name.

Alex.

He like the way it sounded on his own tongue. It would be nice to call her that.

He looked up in surprise to see he was already close to his townhouse. Far from settling his thoughts, the walk had only kept his emotions on edge. It was a novel experience, not having them under rigid control. He found himself feeling the need of something — perhaps a large snifter of warming brandy.

Or perhaps a warm bed. He realized with a start that he hadn't been with a woman since, well, since he had met Miss Chilton. Mayhap that was why he was feeling so agitated. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone so long without the pleasures of a female companion to warm his nights. And yet, though he would have welcomed the physical release, he had not the slightest desire to visit Lady Cameron, or any other lady for that matter. What was the world coming to?.

He sighed, perplexed with himself.

A glass of brandy would have to do.

Hammerton paced back and forth over the expensive oriental carpet in his oak paneled library, his eyes narrowed in anger. He lashed out in frustration with a booted foot , sending a delicate Louis XIV sidetable crashing to the floor and the contents of a crystal decanter splashing over the rich brocade of a neighboring settee. Things were not going as he had planned. The Chilton pup was presenting no problem — he still suspected nothing. It was the damned sister who was proving too clever by half. Who could have imagined that a mere female would pose a problem?

At that thought, his teeth bared in a semblance of a smile. How absurd. He relaxed slightly. The notion of being worried about matching wits with a dowdy, on the shelf country miss showed how tightly wound he had let himself become. Perhaps Arthur had a point. It was best to finish things off quickly, especially given his cousin's unsteady frame of mind. But Arthur he could handle later,

He glared into the flames of the fire. It was the girl he had to deal with right away, before she nosed any further into the matter. Investigate, indeed. What a ridiculous idea. But she could cause complications. It wouldn't do to have people begin to ask questions about the so called accidents. He began pacing again, slowly and deliberately as he fell into deep thought. As he turned, his boot came in contact with the fallen decanter and he kicked it aside, shattering the faceted glass. He smirked in satisfaction at the scattered shards. If the meddlesome chit wanted to get to the bottom of things, he would be only too happy to oblige her.

Only it would be the bottom of a river or a ditch.

His hand came up to stroke his jaw. Staring at the broken glass, he was beginning to put together the pieces of a new plan. Yes, he smiled to himself, it would work quite nicely — why, it was even more ingenious than any of the others. Not only would it take care of his immediate problem, it would throw that arrogant Earl of Branford in such disgrace, no respectable person would dare be seen in his presence. He rubbed his hands together in relish at the very thought of it. No question, it was brilliant.

The clock on the mantel chimed the hour. It was only midnight. Why, he could begin putting the plan in motion right away — the man he needed to see was no doubt just beginning roust himself for his usual activities. Hammerton hurried from the room and barked an order for his carriage to be brought around immediately.

Two nights later, at precisely the same hour, he waited impatiently inside a seedy little pub off a small alleyway in the East End. Though there was precious little chance of being recognized, Hammerton kept the collar of his greatcoat thrown up to shield his face and his hat pulled down low over his brow despite the fetid closeness of the dimly lit room. Finally, a slight man whose pointed features brought to mind those of a weasel sidled in through the smoky haze and slid into the chair opposite the earl. The new arrival darted furtive glances all around before pulling his own worn coat up round his ears.