Lady Beresford's Lover (21 page)

Despite the footman’s presence, Rupert escorted her to the door. “As do I.”

His voice was low and gravelly, as if it pained him to speak. Did he feel any guilt at all about making love to one woman at night and spending time with another one during the day? Probably not. Men were different from women in that respect. Even the best of them.

Vivian’s mother had told her she must overlook her husband’s infidelities. Yet she had thought Rupert was different, and her heart wrenched at the deceit. She should tell him, but then he’d leave her, and she desperately wanted more of what he’d given her last evening.

“There you are.” Pulling her gloves on, Clara came down the stairs. “I thought you’d forgot we have been invited to drink tea with Lady Worthington.” She gave Vivian a critical run-over. “You’ll do, and here is the coach.” Her cousin blinked as if just realizing they weren’t alone. “Stanstead, you may assist Lady Beresford into my carriage.”

Vivian was going to swoon if he picked her up again. Every nerve in her body was attuned to his touch. “I’m sure his lordship does not wish to leave his horses standing.”

“Nonsense, it will only take a moment.” Clara called over her shoulder, “Silvia, are you ready yet?”

“Coming, Cousin Clara.”

“I’m happy you are feeling better, my dear.”

Silvia’s cheeks bloomed as the footman assisted her into the coach.

Rupert, although he’d not said a word, had kept hold of Vivian’s arm and appeared reluctant to let her go.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Think nothing of it.” He gave a slight bow. “I am yours to command, my lady.”

Her stomach tightened painfully. “Thank you. Until to-morrow.”

At first she thought his lips had tightened, but one corner tilted up. “Indeed.”

She slid onto the bench next to her cousin, while Silvia sat on the rear-facing seat. Clara gave Vivian a calculating look, and she decided to deflect attention from herself. “Silvia, did you straighten things out with Lord Beresford?”

The younger woman chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m not sure. Although, I can say I have a different perspective of him than I did before.” She placed her reticule on her lap. “Time will tell.”

“I do believe,” Clara said as she turned from the window, “Lord Oliver is on his way to my house. Pity we won’t be there to greet him.”

From the tone of her voice she was anything but disappointed.

Silvia frowned. “I thought you favored him.”

“Oh no, my dear.” Clara settled back with a smug mien. “I favored the effect he was having on others. Now that the situation is close to being resolved, I have no further use for him.”

Stratagems. Vivian was simply happy they were not directed at her. Why did life have to be made so complicated? Not that she had any right to talk. Allowing Rupert to think she was another woman wasn’t exactly simplifying her life. Maybe being dutiful should have been enough for her. Still, Rupert had a way of making her feel like a precious jewel, and Vivian could not yet give him up.

Sir Walter Scott had it right when he’d written in his great work
Marmion
, “Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!”

“Did you say something, my dear?” Clara asked.

“Nothing of import.” Vivian knew herself too well to think she could keep up her pretense for more than a few weeks. First Cleo would have to disappear, then, a week or so later, Vivian would take a journey out of Town to view properties. That would give Rupert time to find a wife, something he should be attending to rather than dallying with her.

If only he did not dally so well.

A
block away from Lady Telford’s house, Rupert brought his phaeton to a halt. “Lord Oliver. A word if you please.”

The man inclined his head. “I’d be happy to, but another time would be better. I have a matter I must attend to first.”

“On Mount Street?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Lord Oliver made to start his horses again.

“I just came from there. The ladies have gone visiting.” Rupert watched the other man carefully. Despite what Beresford had said, Rupert wanted to assure himself that Lord Oliver’s feelings were not engaged. That would make marrying him off to Miss Chawner more difficult than it would probably already be.

“Devil a bit.” A look reminiscent of a panicked horse entered the man’s eyes. “I don’t have time to waste chasing her all over Town. Do you know when they’ll return?”

“I was not privy to that information. However, if you’re considering asking for Miss Corbet’s hand, I think you’ve missed your mark.”

“What do you mean?” Lord Oliver’s already fair complexion paled even further. “I’ve been dancing attendance on her for weeks now. You must be mistaken.”

“Hardly that long. I believe Lord Beresford and Miss Corbet have an understanding. You should know I am rarely wrong.” Rupert glanced around. “We should not speak of this here. Give your carriage to your groom, and we’ll go to a tavern I know of not far from here. I believe I can help you.”

“How can you possibly—”

“The world of the
ton
is quite small.”

He waited, watching while myriad thoughts and emotions crossed Lord Oliver’s countenance. Mostly anger, but there was fear as well. Fear won out.

“Very well.” Tossing his reins to his groom, he jumped down from his curricle and climbed into Rupert’s. “Although I do not know how you think you can do anything.”

Rupert drove them to the Museum Tavern across from the British Museum and only a short distance from Russell Square. He had visited the inn a few times with Mr. Chawner. Lord Oliver kept up a steady stream of conversation about absolutely nothing as Rupert considered how to approach marriage with Miss Chawner. Once tucked into a back corner table, with pints of ale in front of them, he surreptitiously studied the other man. His complexion was a bit pasty and his clothing not as neat as usual. Lord Oliver was clearly worried about his fate, and the news that Miss Corbet and Beresford were making a match, which Rupert hoped they did sooner rather than later, had scared Lord Oliver. Fortunately, he didn’t appear to be planning anything nefarious, though Rupert would wager his last groat that Nick Beresford would cut short the life of anyone who attempted to harm his beloved.

After several moments, Rupert set his mug down. “I’ve heard you are in need of making a good match.”

“You seem to know a great deal.” Lord Oliver took a long pull of the ale. “Then you always did seem to be a downy one.”

“I’ve found it to be to my benefit.”

“The thing is, I’m at
point non plus
. I got taken in by a Captain Sharp and made the mistake of going to the bloodsuckers. I’m in deep. I have no way to raise the wind, and I can’t go to m’father. He told me the last time my dibs weren’t in tune that if it happened again I could leave Town for good.” Lord Oliver gave a fatalistic shrug. “The only way to come about is to marry an heiress. I thought Miss Corbet might do, but she seems to have cooled toward me lately.”

If the lady had ever really been interested, which Rupert doubted. “I know an heiress. Her father is a wealthy merchant, and she is his only child.”

Lord Oliver gulped down the rest of his ale and signaled for another. “It’s not as if I’d be the first one to marry down for money. If she behaves anything like a lady at all, I don’t suppose the parents will mind. She would have to give up her connection to her father, of course.”

“She is every inch a lady, but she will not give up her father or pretend she comes from somewhere else.” Rupert watched the other man’s countenance turn a shade close to green and took pity on him. “Don’t worry that her father will try to insinuate himself into your circle. He will not.”

Lord Oliver pushed his glass away. “What is her name and when can I meet her?”

“Her name is Miss Chawner. They live not far from here.” Rupert kept his smile to himself. He’d not been entirely sure the man would act reasonably. “We can go over now and at least leave our cards.”

He called for his carriage to be brought around and checked his pocket watch. Mr. Chawner might not be home yet, but his daughter was sure to be. It might be better for her to inspect Lord Oliver before her father saw him.

Several minutes later, they were shown into an opulent gold and red drawing room that must have been decorated by the same man Prinny used. As Rupert had never been in the parlor before, he could only assume it was meant to impress and awe visitors.

A low, pleasant, feminine voice drifted in from the hall. “There was no need to put Lord Stanstead in the gold room.” The door opened and Miss Chawner appeared dressed neatly and expensively in an emerald-green day gown. She gave Lord Oliver a curious glance, then understanding dawned, and she smiled at Rupert. “My lord, Papa has not yet returned. How may I help you?”

“Miss Chawner, may I make you known to Lord Oliver Loveridge, a younger son of the Duke of Stafford.”

She sank into a graceful and appropriately deep curtsey. “My lord, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Satisfied Lord Oliver was suitably impressed, Rupert continued. “Lord Oliver, Miss Chawner.”

The other man bowed and took the hand she offered, bringing it to his lips. “The pleasure is entirely mine.”

“There is no need to beat about the bush,” Rupert said before any uneasiness could set in. “The other day I mentioned you to Miss Chawner, and she expressed an interest in a meeting. I think you will deal well together.”

“Indeed, my lord.” Her tone was calm and well modulated. If she had any trepidation, it did not show. “I am no green girl who wishes to be swept off my feet. A marriage of mutual interest would please me.”

For a moment Rupert couldn’t read Lord Oliver’s intent at all, then he laughed. “I’m not sure I have ever met such a forthright young woman. It is refreshing.”

Her eyes twinkled. “We may repair to the morning room where we can discuss our mutual interests. Naturally, my companion will be present. However, she will not interfere with us.” She glanced around, her lips in a moue. “Lord Stanstead, I feel badly leaving you in this monstrosity of a parlor. Papa loves it, but I think he and our regent both have dreadful taste.”

“It’s quite all right.” Rupert grinned. “I’ve been to Brighton. I think I can manage this for a while.”

Once the couple had left, Rupert sat and took out his notebook and pencil. He had enough business to keep him occupied until they returned. Yet rather than focusing on his affairs, he found himself sketching Vivian.

Several minutes had passed when Lord Oliver returned alone. “I have been invited to stay for tea. Miss Chawner assures me she can arrange for my transport home.”

“And?” Rupert asked, wondering if his matchmaking scheme had worked.

Lord Oliver nodded. “Thank you. She is even more strong-minded than Miss Corbet, but I believe you were correct. We will deal well together. After spending this past half hour in her company, my opinion is that she is getting the worst end of the deal.” He grinned. “I have sent a note to my mother asking that she receive Miss Chawner and me in the morning.” He held out his hand and Rupert shook it. “All’s well that ends well.”

“A favorite saying of my mother’s. I shall see you later.” At least he was able to resolve someone’s problems, even if it hadn’t been his own.

Rupert recovered his hat from the footman at the door. He was going to his parents’ house to dine, after which he’d have to make an excuse to be excused from the theater in order to meet Vivian. Now that all the tertiary issues were resolved, he could concentrate on his own courtship.

 

Vivian could easily have screamed with frustration. It wasn’t that all the conversation revolved around the most eligible gentlemen in the
ton
, but with several young ladies who were just out and accompanied by their mamas, too much of it did. Not to mention that every time she’d spoken with Lady Banks, her daughter’s eyes were shooting arrows at Vivian. What on earth did the girl have against her?

A Miss Emily Woolerton had accompanied them, and her talk was of nothing but her impending marriage. Unfortunately, although her betrothed was back in England, he was delayed in arriving in London. After just a few minutes of listening to the wedding plans, Vivian was praying the gentleman would soon arrive and the couple would be married.

Why Vivian had even come was beyond her understanding. She should have known what it would be like, considering the Dowager Lady Worthington had a daughter who was out as well. Nevertheless, she was a friend of Clara’s, and Vivian would have not embarrassed her cousin by refusing to attend when they had been especially invited, which meant they were there for much of the afternoon.

At least Miss Vivers. The Dowager Lady Worthington’s daughter, had conversation about other issues than the gentlemen.

The only saving grace was that the Banks ladies must depart soon. Their fifteen minutes were almost finished.

Truth be told, Vivian should not be nearly as bothered by the conversations as she was. After all, she was no longer on the Marriage Mart, and she should be glad about it. Yet with Silvia and Miss Woolerton brimming with happiness and the speculation about other potential matches this Season, Vivian’s mood sank further into a gray morass.

To make matters worse, as they had the other day, no matter how many times she looked, the arms of the clock refused to move at more than a snail’s pace. She still had hours to go before meeting with Rupert. And there was dinner to get through.

“Lady Beresford, have you decided when you will re-marry?” Lady Banks’s lips curved into a small, polite smile.

“I have decided I shall not.” There, Vivian had announced her intentions to the whole world. Or, unless she missed her guess about Lady Banks, they would shortly be apprised of her choice. “I am searching for a small estate and hope to visit some properties in the next few weeks.”

Miss Banks’s eyes widened. “That is a splendid idea. I cannot wait to have a home of my own. With a husband, of course, but you have already done that.”

The little shrew
. Unable to stop herself, Vivian mimicked the girl’s wide-eyed look. “Indeed I have, and I can assure you that your husband’s house is not your own.”

“But—” Flustered, the young lady turned to her mother. “Mama, won’t you always live at Meadowfield?”

“Cressida, what a question.” Lady Banks gave her daughter an exasperated look. “Naturally I hope to die there, but if your father should pass away first, and your brother marries, I shall move to the dower house. This is the reason settlement agreements are so important. A lady should always know what will become of her if her husband dies.” She patted her daughter’s knee. “Naturally, Papa will take good care of you. Now let us speak of more pleasant topics. Lady Beresford will not wish to be reminded of her loss.”

Vivian made her best effort to appear suitably relieved at the change of subject. If she’d thought no one would see her, she would have danced on her husband’s grave. Fortunately, this time when she glanced at the clock, it had made progress.

Lady Banks and her unpleasant daughter left, only to be replaced by more guests.

“I thought morning visits took place earlier,” Vivian mumbled more to herself than anyone else.

“Normally they do, but with all the children, Lady Worthington has her at home later in the day, when they are out taking their exercise.”

Twenty minutes later, Clara finally rose. “I’ve had a delightful time, but we must rest before this evening.”

“Yes indeed.” Vivian had never been happier to leave an event.

The Dowager Lady Worthington stood. “I shall see you out.” Once in the hall she said, “Thank you for coming. Your conversation has helped keep me sane.”

“It was the least we could do for a friend.” Clara bussed the lady’s cheek. “We had a lovely time.” By the time the farewells were said, their coach had arrived. Unfortunately, not much escaped Clara. “Vivian, dear, are you quite well?”

“Of course.” She settled onto the coach bench. “Why do you ask?”

Her cousin frowned. “You snapped twice at Miss Banks. That is very unlike you.”

“But don’t forget,” Silvia interjected, saving Vivian the need to answer, “Miss Banks did bring up a painful subject for Vivian. I thought Miss Banks was amazingly rude. Did you not see her glare at Vivian as well?”

“Hmm, I didn’t notice the looks, but she did seem terribly relieved when Vivian said she was looking for an estate and intended to leave Town for a while.” Clara turned her attention to Vivian. “Have you found anyplace suitable to view?”

“Yes, a few houses.” Naturally, Clara would know Vivian had spoken to Mr. Trevor. Nothing happened in that house about which Clara was not aware. Except perhaps when Vivian and her maid had slipped back in last night. Yet if her cousin didn’t mention it, neither would she. “I’ll take Punt with me and a couple of your footmen, if you have no objection.”

“With all that on your mind, no wonder you have been looking strained.”

Thank God they had arrived in Mount Street and Vivian could escape. Though to what she didn’t know. She truly did not wish to be by herself, nor did she want to be with others. It was as if her skin didn’t fit properly anymore. If only what her head told her to do was the same as what her heart demanded she do.

When they gained the hall, she took off her bonnet. “I think I shall rest until dinner.”