“You’ve a rake and a doxy to advise you? I actually think that may be good. We’ll keep you grounded in facts rather than your fancies.” Paul took a cigar for himself and carefully struck a match. “What did she say?”
“To grovel.”
Laughing, Paul lit his cigar, breathing in and out before he replied. He agreed that she might be on to something. “I feel she may be in the right. So, give it a bit of time, then grovel. You did what you felt was necessary, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t cause her offense. Clearly. But my point is that she feels something strong for you.”
Satisfied that Lee was mulling things over rather than panicking, Paul once more thought about how he pitied the man. Not for his current struggle; he was sure that it would end happily. But for how audaciously his life had changed in so short of a time. They both knew other sons at the fringes of the ton, some who would remain so for the rest of their lives while their siblings lived well and had families. He did not know anyone who conducted the same kind of second identity that Lee had. It was feasible that he could have relied on it as both income and hobby for some time to come.
Then his father had sent him away and he’d returned scarred.
Paul allowed his introspection to turn to his own brother, who had suffered a similar fate. But Jeremy’s vocation wasn’t denied him, he thought. One hand and much of his sense of security were. On balance, that was just as dire. With a heavy heart, he knew Jeremy wasn’t ready for more acquaintances right now. He kept up with his social commitments out of a sense of duty, not pleasure.
But Paul felt certain that, one day, he must introduce both dukes. They probably had much to teach each other. He decided that more immediately, he could aid his friend when he spotted an opportunity. He and Miss Driffield must frequent the same events, sometimes. He smiled as he reflected. Yes, he could find her, and he could speak to her. Just a little, just to clarify. Lee was obviously too infatuated and embarrassed to do it.
“Why do you smile like that?”
“I have some ideas.”
“You and your ideas. Jesus Christ.”
“Is our Lord and savior,” said Paul. “I think I shall speak to your Miss Driffield.”
Alarmed, Lee sat up. “Why? You can’t. She shall prefer you.”
“To ease your way. You needn’t worry. I don’t think I’m her preferred type.”
“That does not allay my nerves.”
“I won’t let anything bad come of it.” What was more, he wouldn’t. Lee had seen enough trouble to last a lifetime. Paul would rather burn his favorite jacket than contribute to any more of it. “Do you trust me?”
Straightaway, Lee nodded. It was a drunk nod, an overenthusiastic nod, but sincere. Satisfied, Paul reached for his glass with his free hand and took a deep sip, gracefully holding his cigar in the other.
*
Sir Gregory paid her one more call before she danced with him—more than once—in a setting that would leave very few people unaware of the fact that she had done it. The Comptons’ ballroom was spacious and glorious, and filled with those in the know. As Teddie parted from Sir Gregory, who in a daring act by his standards, kissed the back of her hand, she thought with satisfaction that the whole of London would assume he was engaged to her.
Everything before would be dismissed as idle speculation, perhaps true, perhaps not, and she would move on with things as best she could.
Almost three weeks had gone by without a word from Lord Valencourt. She knew she had his card and could have arranged something, herself. But she wanted to see if he would try her again. This was possibly a miscalculation, for she’d heard nothing. No new communications were left with Roderick or the butler, Hilton. She had not seen Lord Valencourt at a ball or anywhere else. It cut her, so she ignored the card after concluding that he wanted nothing to do with her.
Despite the fact that he’d said otherwise, she still concluded it.
Eagerly, she went for some ratafia and glanced at the corner of the room where Mother was seated with other ladies. She would not be underfoot. After her initial protestations, she seemed confident that Teddie was handling things rather well with Sir Gregory and all the unspeakable business with Lord Valencourt could be swept under the rug.
Teddie didn’t know if her mother had convinced herself that it was all a youthful phase, but that appeared to be how she was treating it, even if, to Teddie, it was anything but.
To her, it was an awakening.
To what end, she couldn’t guess. It had not been for good, certainly.
He might have told Roderick to relay the message, but that is not the same thing as hearing it from his lips.
She passed a group of young debutantes she knew to be under the wing of Lady Olivia. They had all come out this year and were titled ladies if she understood correctly.
As such, they made her feel both ancient and nervous.
They tittered as she went by, so she slowed her tread and peered at them. The effect was gratifying and instant: one pale thing blushed so furiously that she went crimson, and another gasped so quickly that she got a case of the hiccups.
“Miss Driffield?” asked a man’s voice from behind her.
She stopped, but just barely, and saw a man in his early twenties striding confidently toward her. She was unfamiliar with him, but still waited for him to join her because he seemed innocuous enough.
Waiting was not the normal response to a man one did not know. But in front of this group of little vipers, she could do no right.
Part of her just wanted to provoke more of a tizzy among them.
“Yes?”
“Lord Paul Hareden, at your service.”
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, my lord,” she said.
“We have not. But, we have a friend in common,” he replied.
“I have very few friends, I’m afraid,” she said with an easy smile. “You may have heard.”
“I have heard you are not to be trifled with,” came the odd and somehow amiable response, topped with a dashing half-smile that suited his entire demeanor. “Might I have a word on the terrace?”
When she must have looked visibly conflicted, he said, “There are so many people out there enjoying the night that you won’t have to worry about propriety.” He went around to her other side and placed himself between her and the gaggle of debutantes, who watched with keen curiosity, and said to them, “Excuse me, my ladies.”
Their collective swoon was almost audible, and the little giggles of delight as she walked away from them definitely were.
Teddie snorted. He was not the sort for her, but she could see how he would appeal widely.
She walked with Lord Paul the short way to the terrace and waited for him to take them to a spot in full view of the others present, if they so chose to pay attention to them. He hadn’t lied about that, then. There were several couples and a group of three.
“What did you wish to discuss, my lord?” Something was almost familiar about him—his name, perhaps. She might have read it, somewhere. She could not say what else was memorable. But as a novice of the prolific notes on gossip, she had only the nose for the Lords Valencourt or the Duke of Welburn. “You mentioned a friend. Let us not discuss my infamous reputation.”
He shook his head and smiled. “I didn’t say it was infamous. But, as you wish. I was wondering how you felt about the Duke of Welburn.”
Asking that was like asking if water was wet, and it was dreadfully to the point. How didn’t she feel about the Duke of Welburn? “If you know him and you are talking to me, then I am sure you know I blackened his eye,” she said, her voice quavering just a little bit.
Her new acquaintance kept his voice quiet, but steady. The breeze with its echoes of leaves and trilling birds would obscure what he said if anyone tried to listen.
“I also know that you snuck to the Sans Pareil with him, and on a later date, ran to his house to speak to him.”
“This is really quite
low,” she said as her heart thudded in her chest and she could hear the beats in her ears. But even though she was astounded that Lord Valencourt had confided in someone, it was not lost on her that he had done so—and that it was a significant indication of how deeply he felt about the matter.
“How do I know you aren’t simply playing with me?” She had run out of patience for aristocratic men.
He sighed and said, “You shall have to trust that I’m not.”
“Pardon me, my lord, for not taking your word.”
“I am trying to help, not cause you distress.”
Teddie put her hands on her hips. “And what about him? Is he distressed? It seems as though he can cope quite well without me.”
“As you are coping quite well without him?” Lord Paul pressed. “I myself am bored merely being acquainted with Sir Gregory. I could not imagine ever considering marriage to him.”
“That is none of your business, but I thank you for your consideration.”
“I will not explain things that aren’t my story to tell,” he said. “But please, I’m asking as a friend concerned for a friend. If he comes to you, will you see him?”
Teddie looked him in the eyes. They were, without her stretching and with him standing impeccably straight, about the same height. “Why hasn’t he come before now, my lord?”
His answer was unexpected. It garnered her belief more than anything else would.
“He’s ashamed,” said Lord Paul simply.
He bloody well should be, she thought. “He should be,” was what she said.
At that, she learned that Lord Paul really was Lord Valencourt’s friend, because a wounded look briefly came over his face.
“I must take some responsibility for setting him amongst the marriage mart. I did encourage him.” Before she could bring that against him, which she was about to, he said, “It perhaps was not respectful of any of the available ladies. But I have known Valencourt since we were boys. You must believe it when I say he’s never been interested in controlling anyone, a woman or otherwise. Not the way many of us can be, when we’re raised to believe we should.”
She’d no full idea whether he was speaking of men in general or aristocrats more broadly, but the earnestness that pervaded his speech was powerful.
“And you?” she said, after considering his words. “How were you raised?”
“In the same lot as his. I’m my father’s youngest child, not his heir. When he died, my brother became the duke,” Lord Paul informed her. “Though, we are far more amenable toward each other than Valencourt and his late brother were.”
Since Lord Valencourt had alluded to the fraught relationship, this did not shock her. “He did not lead me to believe that they were ever on good terms,” she admitted, glancing away from Lord Paul and out at the garden, which was growing darker by the moment. It was, however, peaceful. Servants were lighting candles set in holders dangling from strategic branches or the garden walls.
“Their father forced Valencourt into the army,” said Lord Paul.
That did shock her.
“Why?” She brought her eyes back to his.
“Among other things, he had done things his father didn’t like.”
“His brother didn’t stand up for him, did he?” asked Teddie, assembling the answer already.
“No. He did not.” His face grew stony. “But more than that, I shouldn’t say. He needs to explain it as he wishes. It isn’t my story to tell.”
“If he won’t say things to me, I am glad someone will,” said Teddie. She wavered between still being hurt—and angry that she’d allowed herself to become vulnerable enough to be hurt—and feeling pity for Lord Valencourt.
She appreciated that Lord Paul let her stand in silence. This was not something that could be made better by lovely words or enigmatic conversation. The conversation would have to come from Lord Valencourt, no matter how well-meaning his friend was. He turned away from her to take in the garden himself. After a few minutes, he remarked, “I won’t justify his behavior, as much as I understand it. I am sorry that the dust has settled as it has. You were not meant to be hurt or compromised in any way.”
She smirked, but only a little. There was nothing Lord Paul did not know, and yet, unlike others of the beau monde who knew more about her than she would have liked, he did not make her feel as though she were some kind of specimen to be studied under glass or from a safe distance.
“I don’t feel compromised, my lord.”
“Happy to hear it.”
“Thank you.” It was not easy to vocalize what she said next, so she sounded a little stilted. She wasn’t any good at admitting when she might have contributed to her own problems yet was cursed with a propensity for doing exactly that. “I have never been a… sedate… person, so he did not cause all the trouble. I still feel as though I was a means to an end, to begin with, and that prickles at me, but… I have not made things easy for myself.”
“None of the most interesting people do, Miss Driffield.”
She chuckled. It was true in her limited experience, too. “Fair enough.”
“Speaking of such, I may be honor-bound to warn you that I’ve made myself quite the reputation, and depending on who you speak to, they will gasp when you say you’ve spoken to me… or they’ll smile.”
“Will some do both?” she asked, smiling.
“They might. You’re smiling, after all. Now that I’ve said my piece, would you care to meet my mother?” He raised his eyebrows. “She’s always a good person to know if you’re in a spot of bother. And does, just between us, think that Valencourt has been something of a fool. She is most blunt about her opinions.”
“My lord, they’ll have us engaged within the hour if I meet your mother.” Teddie was only just joking. Nobody was actively looking right at them, but she gradually noticed that everyone seemed to have taken half a step closer to them. “Perhaps another time. As it is, I feel we may have started the rumor.”
Lord Paul looked around at the strategically bowed heads, listened to the soft chatter that did not quite sound like normal talk. “Ah, too right. Well, we can’t have people speculating that you’re engaged to three men at once, can we?” He offered her his arm and she was certain that an older, brunette lady emitted a tiny gasp. Teddie took it, regardless. “Though you might start a new trend, as Valencourt and I are considered rather handsome… and I suppose there must be someone, somewhere, who prefers Sir Gregory. The Lord does have a plan for all of us.”
“That is… all very wicked on a number of levels,” said Teddie, trying not to be too openly tickled at his dry, lightly delivered, humor.
“I pride myself on accomplishing efficient wickedness on a daily basis.” He took back his arm, gently, before they reached the proper edge of the ballroom. She was pleased to see that despite his levity, he respected the way it would look for her to be so directly accompanied by him. “Now, will you please…” he trailed off.
“Tell him I will see him,” she said.
Lord Paul grinned, and she decided that she liked him. “Perfect,” he said. “Then I do believe my stores of wine shall be saved, after all.”
Chapter Thirteen
A mild day came when he finally didn’t dread calling on Teddie, even though it had been almost a week since Paul told him Teddie was acquiescent to seeing him.
He’d given everything ample contemplation, keeping to himself and meeting only with Clyde for business and estate affairs. Figuring there was nothing for it but to be done, he’d sent Clyde away to ascertain the true state of things. In short, it was not so dire as they first expected. Clyde returned from his journey to Whitwell with more of a spring in his step.
In fact, he looked happier than Lee had ever seen him. A man who looked intensely like a happy weasel was a sight, indeed. He tried not to stare at Clyde from across the tabletop.
“There will be enough of an income, God willing, that you can right things within a year,” said Clyde. �
�Two, conservatively. But I see no reason why, if you are intentional and perhaps, if we find a man of business to focus on the Exch—”
“What do you mean, God willing?” Lee interrupted, cautious to allow relief to overtake him. But inwardly, he was shouting with joy. This meant he could redouble his efforts to take Teddie for a wife. With a clear conscience. He could face her and say with honesty that he did not need her fortune.
They might need to be more mindful of outgoing expenses for a little while, and that was not perfect. But he was not really a pauper of a duke.
Smiling minutely, Clyde said, “The weather must cooperate, Your Grace. Luckily, Whitwell is not prone to flooding, but—”
“Oh, I see. Yes. Of course.”
It still shamed him that he could be so naïve about matters like this, and that he did not think to consider something so basic, yet impactful, as weather.
“Do not worry, Your Grace,” Clyde said. “You will learn.”
It was kind of him to be patient. Thomas was not a gracious employer and through his own capriciousness, had likely caused Clyde to worry for his position. However, Clyde was also professionally embedded in Welburn’s troubles and successes. He had been since Lee’s childhood. Lee could not remember Clyde not being there.
If things went badly for Welburn, it would tarnish Clyde’s reputation.
“So, it would seem my brother’s fondness of London’s diversions may have spared Whitwell from bearing the brunt of his…” Greed? Addiction? Lee shook his head. “If he had spent more time there, I am sure he would have found even more to sell, or bargain away, or—”
“He was not temperamentally inclined to make himself available at Whitwell, and never spoke of taking up residence there,” said Clyde.
That would require Thomas to behave like a duke, thought Lee. “Of course he didn’t.”
A glint appeared in Clyde’s eyes. “And let us say that I did not encourage him, once I noticed more of your family’s means, ah, disappearing into the ether. I was suspicious that they were being used for less illustrious pursuits, but it was not my place to interrogate His Grace.”
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