The Courtesan's Daughter (26 page)

“I won’t have it!” Staverton blustered. “You, sir, will not speak so in front of a respectable woman, the woman to be my wife.”

“It’s quite all right, Lord Staverton,” Anne said softly, laying a hand upon his arm. “I have learned through unfortunate experience that Lord Dutton is wanting in self-control and the most basic aspects of deportment. He cannot seem to help himself, and so he requires that we show him every courtesy and every indulgence.”

“Married?” Dutton said, staring at her. “You are to be married ? ”

“Yes,” Anne said softly, quietly enjoying the look of stunned belief on Dutton’s face, the shock that rolled beneath his striking blue eyes.

“As of when?”

“As of tonight, sir, though it is hardly your concern,” Staverton said.

Dutton seemed to collect himself, drawing his shoulders back and his head up. “You have no need for this, then,” he said, reaching into his pocket and holding out a long strand of pearls toward her. They gleamed in the candlelight, soft and white.

“What is this, tossing about pearl necklaces to every woman?” Staverton said. “Some sort of wager posted at White’s, is that it?”

“No,” Dutton said stiffly, staring at Anne, his eyes the blue of a winter sea. “No wager.”

“It had best be some damned wager or I’ll—” Staverton said.

“It is no wager,” Anne said, cutting Staverton off before he found himself maimed or killed in a duel, “but merely a jest. A jest that Lord Dutton began yesterday in Lady Dalby’s salon. It is a jest that has gone on too long, has it not, Lord Dutton?”

“Yes,” Dutton said softly. Then with a smile he said, “I beg your forgiveness, Lord Staverton, Mrs. Warren. My timing is off. The jest fell flat. I wish you all happiness.” And with that, he bowed and left them, the pearls dangling loosely from his fist.

“Poor Dutton,” Sophia said, coming up to them from somewhere behind the harp. “It is a rare night when a man cannot
give
pearls away.”

“Poor Dutton, indeed,” Staverton said. “The man has the most unpleasant way with a jest. ’Tis a wonder anyone speaks to him.”

“Yes, ’tis a wonder,” Sophia said, looking coolly at Anne. “What is your opinion, Anne, on Dutton’s social success, for it is inarguable that he is a desired guest at any event.”

Anne swallowed the lump in her throat, pushing it down past her heart and into oblivion, and answered, “Simply put, Lady Dalby, he is both titled and eligible. ’Tis all that is required of a man, is it not?”

Sophia laughed lightly and said, “It is certainly all that
I
require of a man. But if that is what is required of a man, what is then required of a woman? Best you should answer that, Lord Staverton.”

“Damned silly jests, Sophia,” he grumbled. “I don’t know what’s gotten into everyone tonight.”

“It must be that rash of pearl necklaces making their way around the room,” Sophia said with a smile. “How can a woman not become muddled under such conditions? But tell us, Lord Staverton, play out this jest, the last of the night. What is it that a man requires?”

“Oh,” he said reluctantly, “perhaps a docile disposition.”

Sophia laughed and patted Lord Staverton on the arm. “Are you certain, Stavey? That lets me out entirely, for no one has ever deemed me docile.”

“Perhaps accommodating is a better word,” he said. “What I mean to say is that, well, a man likes for a woman to be, well … pleasant.”

Sophia raised a black eyebrow and simply smiled at him. “Then you have made a lovely choice in Anne, for she is the most pleasant woman of my acquaintance, though I must warn you, she is hardly docile.”

Anne stood quietly, content to let Sophia and Lord Staverton tease each other, as was their custom. They were old friends and their relationship was entirely comfortable. She looked, she dared guess, supremely docile at the moment.

“I disagree with you on that, Sophia,” Lord Staverton said, “for one only has to gaze upon Mrs. Warren’s lovely face to see the sweet docility and effortless charm of her person.”

It was a lovely, sweet compliment and Anne smiled in the glow of it.

Until Sophia said, “You should ask Lord Dutton if he finds lovely Anne docile. I fear he has provoked her ire with some misbehavior on his part.”

Anne looked at Sophia in shock. What was this? Sophia was going to spoil things with Staverton by throwing Dutton and his unwelcome attention into the mix? And how had Sophia guessed at Dutton’s kiss? She had certainly said nothing of it.

“What’s this, Mrs. Warren?” Staverton asked, his hand protectively on the small of her back. “Has he insulted you?”

“No,” Anne said. “Not exactly.”

“I’m almost certain that Lord Dutton would say he has flattered her,” Sophia said, looking compassionately at Anne. Anne had a sudden and violent urge to kill Sophia. It was very unlike her. “But we all know how odd his perspective is on things.”

“He made advances,” Lord Staverton said solemnly. One could almost see him mentally picking through his pistols for the duel he would fight in Anne’s honor.

“He made mistakes,” Anne said softly. She wished ardently for Caro to still be at Hyde House. Caro was such an effective lightning rod for scandal.

What an ugly thought. She quite shocked herself.

“How kindly you put it, dear Anne,” Sophia said. “Of course, a woman alone in the world … we grow accustomed to these sorts of … adventures, don’t we, Anne? ”

“Do you mean to say that he … he has been pursuing her?” Staverton said.

“And really,” Sophia said conspiratorially, “who can blame poor Dutton? Anne is a beautiful widow with neither chick nor child. I don’t know if he had marriage in mind, did he mention marriage to you, Anne? But an eligible man about town and a likely widow … well, isn’t there a play to that effect? In any regard, who can blame him? ”

Sophia ended with a bright and brilliant smile. Anne was not smiling and certainly not brightly.

“I can blame him and do blame him,” Staverton said.

“As well you should,” Sophia consoled. “As the man whom Anne has agreed to marry, you have every right. You have many options, certainly, but were I you, Stavey, I would marry Anne without delay. That will stop the poor fellow cold and squash any rumors that may be clawing their way to life. Marry Anne and you save her from his misguided attempts at what he may consider flattery. Did you feel flattered by Lord Dutton’s attention, Anne?” Sophia asked sweetly.

It was now Anne who was mentally sorting through an array of pistols.

“No,” she said stiffly. “I did not.”

“Of course you did not,” Sophia affirmed. “Which only illustrates how very misguided poor Dutton is, Stavey. He cannot detect an interested widow from a disinterested one. Yes, the thing for you to do is to marry Anne on the spot, as it were. You simply must do it, if only to save Dutton from himself.”

And in that instant, Anne knew that it was not Dutton Sophia was trying to save from himself. It was Anne whom she was trying to save, from Lord Dutton.

 
“THOSE pearls were my grandmother’s, saved for me,” Louisa Kirkland said. “They weren’t to be sold or bartered or whatever else to Lord Dutton so that he could pass them off to Caroline Trevelyan. I don’t know what my father was thinking.”

“I wonder why he did it,” Amelia Caversham said softly, watching Lord Dutton as he left his conversation with Lord Staverton and Mrs. Warren and made his way to the Duke of Calbourne on the far side of the blue reception room. Amelia had never been to a gathering before in which so many people refused to leave. It was certain to go down as the most entertaining event of the social year.

“I should think that was obvious,” Louisa said stiffly.

Amelia smiled and looked askance at her cousin. Louisa had always been headstrong, but she had acquired her uncertain temper at the exact moment she had acquired a fascination with the devilish Lord Dutton. There was more than one woman in London with the same malady and, as far as Amelia could tell, there was no cure for it. She thanked God almost nightly that she was immune to the considerable charm of Lord Dutton. Of course, her immunity could have sprung almost directly from her constant observance of Louisa struggling under the cloud of his inattention. It was a most potent immunization.

“What is obvious, at least to me,” Amelia said, “is that Lord Dutton, until tonight, has paid no more attention to Lady Caroline than he has to”—she had been on the cusp of saying
you
, but didn’t. Poor Louisa was in enough of a snit as it was—“anyone else. I think he had someone or something else in mind when he presented those pearls to her.”

“
My
pearls,” Louisa said.

“Not any longer, they’re not,” Amelia said. When Louisa opened her mouth to argue, Amelia hurriedly said, “Don’t you wonder, Louisa, why Lord Dutton, who has never before looked at Caroline Trevelyan except to say hello and good-bye to her, would suddenly present her with a pearl necklace? In fact, don’t you find it odd that three gentlemen in one evening would do so?”

“She probably asked for a pearl necklace, that’s all,” Louisa snapped. “There’s no mystery here, Amelia. She had the cheek to ask for pearls and pearls were showered upon her. Not unlike her mother, is she? I heard something similar happened to Lady Dalby, though with sapphires. Like mother, like daughter.”

“Do you mean to say,” Amelia said softly, watching Lady Dalby laugh with Mrs. Warren and Lord Staverton, rumored to have sealed their engagement this very night, “that all a woman has to do is to ask for what she wants? And then, she gets it?”

Louisa turned her bright, red head to stare at Amelia. Amelia stared right back at her. Was it truly as simple as that?

 
“IT’S as simple as that, Lord Westlin,” Lord Ruan said. “Lord Ashdon said he’d marry her. He has ruined her, after all. What would you have of him? ”

“I’d have revenge of him, that’s what,” Westlin said.

“That’s between the two of you, of course,” Ruan said mildly. “I can only tell you what he said his intentions are. By all appearances, he would seem as good as his word.”

“Are you implying that he’s not as good as his word?”

“I’m implying nothing. I’m only keeping you informed as to your son’s actions, per our agreement. Now,” Ruan said, ignoring the bad taste in his mouth, “I believe I’ve met my portion of our agreement. I shall expect the title to the property to be delivered to my home by tomorrow noon, if that’s convenient.”

He didn’t care a blister if it was convenient; Ruan was overeager to end his association with the Earl of Westlin. The more time he spent with Westlin, the more impressed he was that Sophia had been able to manage his company at all, and the less impressed he was with Westlin that he’d mismanaged an affair with certainly the most fascinating woman he’d yet to meet. Small wonder that alliance had ended with an explosion that was still rocking London Society. It was obvious to him, and therefore must be more than obvious to Sophia, that Westlin would like nothing better than to use his son to deliver some blow of vengeance to Sophia’s daughter.

Certainly ruining her should have been enough for any normal lunatic, but one couldn’t discount raving lunacy when dealing with Lord Westlin.

“Lord Westlin?” Ruan prompted.

They stood in a corner of the blue reception room, surrounded by knots of people all speculating avidly about Lady Dalby, Lady Caroline, Lord Ashdon, Lord Dutton, and Lord Henry Blakesley; by virtue of the fact that he was talking with Lord Westlin, Ruan rather assumed that they were speculating about him as well. He didn’t care for it in the least.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Westlin grumbled. “Though I’d have preferred it if you’d kept on until the end of the Season.”

“Yes, well, fate rarely takes one’s preferences into account.”

“Tomorrow at noon is not convenient for me,” Westlin said. Ruan supposed it was not, as Westlin might well be at his son’s wedding tomorrow at noon. “Come round Friday, if you would. I’ll have the papers ready.”

“Friday it is,” Ruan said, taking a step away from Westlin, and all the speculation, he hoped. He had not missed the fact that Lady Dalby had cast more than one cool glance in his direction in the last few minutes.

“I have to admit to being impressed, Lord Ruan,” Westlin said before he could take a second step.

“Oh?” Ruan said.

“Yes,” Westlin said with a humorless smile. “I almost expected you to ask me what everyone else is eager to know. You must have determined that my plans for my son involve Sophia Dalby and her black-haired daughter, as you are involved, however peripherally.”

“Actually, Lord Westlin,” Ruan said pleasantly, “I prefer living life on the periphery and will allow that a man’s affairs are strictly his own concern. Good evening, sir,” he said with a crisp half bow, leaving Westlin in his corner, boxed in, as it were.

Of course, he wanted to know what bloody cord bound Sophia to Westlin, but he wasn’t going to listen to Westlin’s version of events. Ruan much preferred the view from the periphery as well as it gave one a clear and unimpeded look at things.

Ruan made it a point to walk past Sophia and Lord Staverton on his way out. Sophia made it a point to ignore him completely. Ruan smiled as he donned his hat; only a woman very aware of a man took the trouble to ignore him completely.

Now, perhaps there was something he could do to save Sophia from Lord Westlin. To be honest, she didn’t look the sort of woman who required saving. Then again, he suspected he’d have a good time trying.

Twenty-two

“HELP. Save me,” Caro said as she straightened the seam on her right glove.

Ash looked at Caro from his side of the Westlin town coach and scowled at her. She found it rather attractive, strangely enough. That was the whole problem with Ashdon, she found almost everything he did strangely attractive. One might almost say
compelling
. It was getting to be rather ridiculous.