Beastly Lords Collection

by Baily, Sydney Jane

  Encouraged by his answer, Michael thought he might tell Hemsby over a glass of brandy and get his opinion, if he had one. On seabird guano!

  *

  “Yes, Mrs. St. Ange, just as you said. I told Lord Alder he could tell whomever he wants. And the jobber you recommended was courteous and fair.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Brunnel. Please come again in three weeks’ time? We’ll see where his investments are, and then you can set up a meeting with the viscount to impart the good news.”

  Ada saw him out, as she still hadn’t found a suitable butler. Having never set up her own household before, she’d had no idea the difficulty one had in finding staff. She’d interviewed two men who gave her an uneasy feeling, seemingly too interested in her not having a Mr. St. Ange, or any man in the house. Moreover, she hadn’t found even a footman to augment her carriage driver. And even he was only at her disposal a few days a week.

  At least she had Clive Brunnel. The man was perfect for the position as he had a manner that instilled confidence, even if he knew no more about import and export than what she’d told him. He’d helped her begin the ruin of Lord Vile. Now, it was her turn to take the bull by the horns. To that end, she decided to befriend his current paramour.

  This turned out to be easily done. After all, very little investigation beforehand and the good fortune of a home becoming available at Belgrave Square had put the woman within a few doors.

  To live so close to where Lord Vile practiced his profligate ways might have seemed a smack in Ada’s face if she hadn’t intended to use it to insinuate herself into his life.

  His mistress could be an easy means of ending up in his company, depending on how openly they flaunted their relationship. For instance, she knew Lady Pepperton liked to host dinner parties, and her escort for the past half-year had nearly always been Lord Vile.

  As if out for a stroll, Ada left her calling card with the widow’s butler. Observing the sandy-haired fellow, she couldn’t help wondering where Lady Pepperton had found him. A good age, neither too young nor too old, the butler didn’t feel threatening, plus he undoubtedly could still carry packages and move furniture without groaning about his back.

  “Do you wish to wait, madam, while I take your card to her? Her ladyship is at home.”

  “No, thank you. I would never do so uninvited. I live two doors down. Give her my card, and we shall meet when mutually convenient if she wishes. Please tell her I said precisely that.”

  Ada wandered home for some soothing milky tea since her heart was beating hard at her boldness. Taking her card over with no expectations was one thing. However, staying for an audience with Lady Pepperton would have marked her as vulgar indeed.

  Entering her own gorgeous home, she almost wished she’d feigned a dead aristocratic husband instead of a humble yet wealthy businessman. However, if she’d returned to London as Lady Such-and-Such, eyebrows would have raised and many of the ton would have started digging. They didn’t like newcomers popping up out of nowhere into their esteemed ranks.

  As Mrs. St. Ange, though, she was of no threat and of no particular interest. In other words, invisible. London society would leave her alone except for her own outreaching toward them. Her wealth would help open many doors. To that end, Ada hoped Lady Pepperton would want to meet her at least as a neighbor.

  Surprisingly, it happened within hours. A footman walked the two doors down with an invitation to dinner that very evening.

  Strange, Ada thought, that the woman had no plans, but then, by inviting her on such short notice, Lady Pepperton must have assumed she had none either.

  Since it was dark, Ada had her driver escort her, walking by her side the few steps between her door and the widow’s, and then she dismissed him for the night. She would brave the return trip by herself with a quick dash.

  She was welcomed inside by the same butler, who also took her cape and showed her into a well-appointed drawing room. Elegant, understated, it looked in many ways similar to Ada’s choices in color and style, except there were simply more things. More bric-a-brac and paintings, more rugs and candles.

  “My new neighbor,” Lady Pepperton exclaimed as she entered, wearing an exquisite buttery yellow brocade gown that hugged her tall and curvaceous figure while the full pleated skirts cinched to an impossibly tiny waist.

  Ada felt almost frumpy, inches shorter as she was and wearing a subdued shade of dove gray. However, the lady made her feel like an honored guest, taking both her hands and kissing each of her cheeks.

  “Another widow on my block! And not an old stuffy one, either. I’m thrilled.”

  She sounded as though she meant it.

  “Thank you for inviting me to dinner, my lady.”

  “Oh, you must stop that at once. We are going to be friends, I just know it. Two women of independent means. What matters if I married a lord? You must call me Elizabeth, I insist.”

  “Very well. And you must call me Ada.”

  Elizabeth laughed good-naturedly.

  “Oh, I’m not laughing at you,” she clarified when Ada looked on in confusion. “Your name is simply so short in comparison.”

  Shrugging slightly, Ada confessed, “I was meant to be Ada Kathryn after my grandmother, but it was such a mouthful, very soon after my birth, my mother shortened it to Ada Kate. My friends shortened it even further to Ada, which suits me fine.”

  “Perfect!” The widow was a happy person, and everything Ada said or did all evening invoked the same response, starting with her choice of beverage.

  “Madeira or sherry?”

  “Maderia, if you please,” Ada said.

  “Perfect!”

  And thus it went, throughout a half hour tête-à-tête in which they got to know each other, or at least Ada’s falsified story of true love and loss. Elizabeth didn’t even attempt a pretense of having loved Lord Pepperton.

  “He was a necessary means to an end,” she admitted, gesturing around herself at the “end” result. “What’s more, Lyle didn’t mind a bit. He had already married and had no issue. His wife was long dead. I was a decoration and a comfort for his last years, and I never cuckolded him during our two years together.”

  She said it so matter-of-factly, Ada didn’t even take offense at the impropriety of it.

  “I knew there’d be plenty of time for amusing myself in that regard after he passed.”

  Oh dear! Ada had never had an acquaintance who spoke so plainly about such a topic before. What’s more, Lord Vile was Elizabeth’s latest amusement. Later, in private, Ada would consider the emotions brought up by such a strange situation. They had kissed the same man. They’d both done a great deal more than kiss him, too.

  For now, she would use it as the perfect opening to bring the conversation around to the lady’s paramour. The bullseye for her arrow of retribution.

  “Do you intend to marry again?”

  Elizabeth immediately shook her head, her dark waves of hair ruffling as she did.

  “I have no intent in that regard. Why should I? I have money enough to last, absolute freedom, and my choice of lovers.”

  Ada felt her cheeks heat up. Lovers!

  “What about you? You have been a widow you said for two years. Do you want to marry again?” Elizabeth waited expectantly.

  “No, I suppose I don’t.” In fact, Ada couldn’t imagine saddling herself with a domineering male. Currently, everything was exactly to her liking, and she answered to no one. Yet, she doubted she would feel the same in Elizabeth’s shoes, without a child. Harry had given her purpose, along with her deep-seated desire for revenge.

  “You amuse yourself, as you said, with… with available gentlemen?” Good God, Ada couldn’t believe she was asking such a question, but she had to get the conversation to Lord Vile.

  Elizabeth nodded. “Exactly so. And since I’m widowed and my paramours are always unmarried, we can go out in polite society and are welcomed practically anywhere.”

  “Paramours?” Ada emph
asized the “s” and then felt like a country bumpkin instead of the sophisticated London woman she’d wanted to project. “Forgive me,” she added at once.

  Elizabeth only laughed, a lovely sound from a lovely woman, and while Ada admitted she liked this lady, she also felt her self-esteem sinking. How could she ever compete with Lady Pepperton, steal Michael Alder from her, and crush his heart—if he had one—under her satin slipper? Or at least crush his pride?

  Moreover, how would she make a move at all if this woman became her friend? She wouldn’t want to hurt her in order to hurt Lord Vile. She’d hoped for a hard-hearted, brittle vixen who wouldn’t give a fig if Michael Alder left her for another.

  Truly, Ada felt her head was becoming muddled.

  “Do you know something?” Elizabeth said when they were seated at one end of her glossy, cherry-wood dining table with bowls of light broth before them. “I think finding your own bit of amusement would do you a world of good if you’ve simply been in mourning and grieving. And how old is your little one?”

  “My son is two and a half years old.”

  “Perfect,” Elizabeth said again, with less enthusiasm. “I never wanted children. My mother died from trying to produce another for my father when there were already three of us. Plus, I’m too selfish.”

  Delicately tipping back her glass of wine, she sipped.

  “Shall I help you find someone with whom you may keep company? I have a wonderful companion currently, and he knows many people.”

  Ada felt a frisson of discomfort.

  “Truthfully, I have heard of your association with Lord Alder. I wouldn’t want to deceive you. Are you in love with him?”

  If her bold question disturbed her ladyship, she showed no sign. Yet she sighed heavily.

  “I wish I were. As I said, not in order to marry, which holds no appeal, but I have never been in love. I would very much like to try it, as long as I don’t get hurt. And who can guarantee such a thing?”

  Lady Pepperton spooned the soup slowly, thinking, while Ada considered her own youthful obsession with Michael Alder. If she hadn’t taken an instant liking to him, then she might have been open to one of the other men she’d met during her Seasons.

  “I suppose I’m a coward,” Elizabeth continued, “but I’m having entirely too much enjoyment to care. Besides, I can’t fall in love when I’m thinking of who else is out there. There’s always another paramour around the corner.”

  She laughed heartily at her own words, and Ada couldn’t help joining in.

  “Not wanting to deceive you either,” Elizabeth added, “Lord Alder mentioned running into you outside your door, and I told him your name. I hope you don’t mind.”

  They’d been talking of her already. How odd and also fortunate.

  “I don’t mind at all.” Though she mustn’t let all this frank and interesting talk dissuade her from moving her plan forward. Especially now she knew Elizabeth’s heart was not invested.

  “How did you meet?” Ada asked.

  “Alder? At a dinner. In fact, I should throw one. I haven’t in weeks. I will invite you, of course, and there’s another new tenant of the square. He’s older than us but not too old. I believe his family is from Cornwall. I’ll send my card around there first thing in the morning. Who else? Two other singles and another couple should do the trick. We’ll have both a little uncertainty amongst you single eligibles, as well as some safe steadiness with us confirmed couples. And there’ll be no one frightening, I promise you, like awful gossipy Lady Turnandy. I tell you, that one is a nightmare.”

  And Elizabeth launched into a story of how the older woman with the morals of a saint tried to blackball Lady Pepperton from polite society.

  “I’m so much more interesting than she is,” Elizabeth said without an ounce of hubris, “she found herself thwarted at every turn and facing me at every dinner or ball which I cared to attend. It was perfect! Anyway, we won’t have any of her type at our dinner.”

  Thus, with very little nudging, Elizabeth set about creating exactly the sort of soirée Ada had hoped for. Lord Vile would attend. Undoubtedly, he would drink too much and be easily enticed if Ada wore a fashionably low-cut gown. She had two assets she was confident he would admire, if nothing else.

  By the time she left after a delightful meal and good company, Ada congratulated herself how things were falling into place. Moving swiftly along the dark sidewalk, she was nearly at her own steps when a voice called out to her.

  “You there! Mrs. St. Ange!”

  She wouldn’t have stopped if the man hadn’t known her by name. With the hair on the nape of her neck prickling, Ada turned, already knowing who it was. Obviously, Lord Alder had only just alighted from the carriage that had glided past her. Then, for some reason, he’d come straight after her.

  “Our favorite meeting place,” he remarked.

  Ada tried not to sneer at his supposed wit.

  “Do I know you?” she asked blankly.

  His friendly expression dimmed. There, that took him down a notch. He seemed to think she should have remembered him. Ha! She tilted her chin.

  “Well, no, not really,” he said. “I helped you with your packages the other day. That was me.”

  “Indeed,” she said, looking him up and down. “Yes, that was you.”

  If he was waiting for a thank you, he would stand there all night.

  “I saw you walking by yourself, and thought I would make sure you reached your home safely.”

  She made a great show of looking behind her, to her own front door a few yards away.

  “I would be inside by now if you hadn’t stopped me.”

  He nodded. “Yes. True. I’m Michael Alder, by the way.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Did he just puff up his chest as if pleased?

  “I had dinner with your… friend,” she clarified. “She mentioned you.”

  “My friend?” He frowned. “Oh, you mean Lady Pepperton. Yes, my friend! She had you over for dinner? I wasn’t aware. And why should I be? Good thing I didn’t arrive any earlier and interrupt.”

  “Good thing,” Ada agreed.

  “On the other hand, I would have been pleased to see you off the street.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Lord Vile coughed. “I meant simply I could have seen you properly. More of you, I mean. In better lighting.”

  She said nothing, as she had nothing to add. He was a buffoon at this point. What had she ever seen in him? How had she thought him remarkable in any way?

  “If you’ll excuse me.” She turned toward her doorway. “We’ll meet again.”

  “Why do you say that?” he called after her. “Are you a soothsayer?”

  Again, he was trying to be droll.

  “Indeed,” she said again, hoping he was half insulted yet intrigued by her disinterest.

  “Good night, Lord Alder,” she added and slipped inside.

  Once safely in the foyer, she leaned against the door and closed her eyes. Her heart was thumping like a captured rabbit, but she couldn’t help the smile upon her lips.

  In a very few nights, she would be sitting down to a meal with the vile viscount. In front of Elizabeth, she would be cordial, but to him, she would remain cool and, with any luck, alluring.

  And if she couldn’t tempt him away from his mistress, then there was always the next plan, as soon as she thought of one.

  Chapter Five

  Michael was baffled. He’d never had a woman react to him quite so coolly as this one. And he wasn’t even trying to woo her into his bed. He was simply being nice to her, picking up her damned packages and making sure she stayed safe on the streets of London.

  The diminutive blonde was most probably safe anywhere she went, with her shield of icy indifference. Who could penetrate that?

  “Indeed!” he mimicked in a singsong voice as he entered Elizabeth’s abode, tossing his coat and gloves onto the table in the front hall.

  She greete
d him with a kiss to both his cheeks and then drew her arm through his as she directed him upstairs. Apparently, tonight, they would be in her bedroom. This meant no leisurely conversation, no meal.

  “Is there brandy upstairs?”

  “Of course,” she said, sounding distracted. “I’m having a dinner party in four, no, in five nights. That will give me time to prepare and to ensure I get the guests I want.”

  She was speaking to him but looking ahead, lost in her own thoughts.

  What if he was busy that night? Had she considered that? After all, she hadn’t even invited him properly.

  “Am I invited?”

  Elizabeth stopped in the middle of the staircase. “Don’t be absurd. Of course, you’re invited. Why, I wouldn’t have it without you.”

  Good, he thought, as they finished the trek to her room. For a minute there, he wondered if she would be equally as happy being a solo hostess for her soirée.

  “Without your presence,” she added, falling back onto the four-poster bed, “I wouldn’t shine nearly as brightly. When you show everyone how you adore me, it makes me appear utterly scrumptious.”

  He was her foil apparently. She didn’t want him there for his scintillating dinner conversation, merely to boost her own ego.

  “And who would flirt with the female guests during the cocktails and converse after dinner with the men over cigars?” he added, feeling sulky.

  Most parties were not for him. Too many of the ton looked askance at his years of misbehaving. However, Elizabeth’s guests would be tolerant of him, or he knew she wouldn’t invite them.

  His mistress began to remove her clothing, starting with her slippers.

  “Darling, you are essential at one of my soirées, like fine wine.”

  He shrugged, feeling appeased.

  “Or like the perfect serving platter or cut of meat. Absolutely essential.”

  Now, she’d gone too far.

  “I say, Elizabeth, you make me sound like an object on your party list, rather than your partner.”

  “My partner?” She sounded stunned. However, she looked divine. Naked, she lay atop the satin counterpane, clutching her silk shift over her body. Unfortunately, nothing in him stirred.