“Who is this package I’m to protect?”
“It’s better that you not know. Be warned, he’s a liar, so believe nothing he says. I’m providing both of you with false identities, the names of the guests your host is expecting. Use them. Any and all precautions, dear boy, shall be your motto. And do practice patience. As I said, he can be an incessant nuisance.”
Montgomery raised an auburn brow. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you’re trying to talk me out of this, George, before I can agree.”
“Not a’tall. Forewarned is forearmed, a bit of advice from my advisers. But you wouldn’t really refuse, would you?”
George actually appeared to be taken aback. He wasn’t used to being told no—except by the government that controlled his purse strings. Montgomery was glad no one controlled his, otherwise his father would have cut him off long ago. Instead of giving him an annual allowance when he’d left home, each of his parents had given him a small property that supported him, nothing grand, but more than enough for his simple needs: nice clothes, nice pistols, a good horse, and enough money to rent decent lodgings. An extravagant house would be forthcoming on his wedding day, but what did he need with extravagance—or a wife? Wives nagged, wives curtailed, wives heaped guilt on you if you strayed. And since he was in the habit of straying . . .
Without waiting for an answer, obviously not wanting to hear one that wouldn’t please him, George said, “I will send him to you early tomorrow morning in a nondescript coach for your journey. And Lady Tyler tonight . . .? ”
Montgomery stood, pocketed the note, picked up a pastry, and nodded. Before he walked out the door, he tossed back, “Absolutely no more contretemps?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” George called after him. “My dear Maria has forgiven me. I had a note from her yesterday.”
Maria Fitzherbert? George’s longtime mistress with whom he’d caused quite a scandal when he’d illegally married her all those years ago? Thank God for small favors.
Chapter Three
“I FOUND OUT TODAY THESE women are old. What the deuce, Monty? How can anyone believe you’re pursuing them, let alone gossip about it?”
Montgomery turned to glance at Andrew filling the doorway to his room. The vexed expression on his brother’s face amused him. He supposed he’d be just as perplexed over the age difference and really wished he could explain the situation to his favorite brother, but that would defeat the purpose of the whole charade.
They both took after their parents, but not the same one. Montgomery was as tall as their father at a little over six feet, and had the same auburn hair. But he had their mother’s emerald eyes. Andrew got his shorter stature and brown hair from her side of the family but had the same lighter green eyes, the color of fresh limes, as their father.
Andrew was the brother he’d been closest to growing up in Suffolk. Weston, their eldest brother, had had different tutors and responsibilities befitting the heir. Six years their senior, he couldn’t be bothered by the brats, as he called them, and their more rambunctious predilections. Weston had even called their sisters, Evelyn and Claire, brats, because they were the only ones who got away with teasing and otherwise annoying him at every opportunity.
All of Monty’s older siblings were married but not very happily. Weston’s wife was a nag; Evelyn wasn’t speaking to her husband; Claire had returned home to live with their parents because she wanted a divorce but couldn’t get one. Only Andrew had no complaints about his spouse, but then he often traveled—without her. A good strategy if it was a strategy, Montgomery thought, because didn’t absence make the heart grow fonder? There was enough evidence in his own family to convince him that marriage wasn’t for him. Even his parents had argued a little too often for his liking during his last years at home.
He finished tying his cravat before answering evasively. “The ton is bored; they’ll gossip about anything, even a polite kiss on the hand.”
“So you didn’t bed them? Why the deuce didn’t you say so sooner?”
He grinned at Andrew, his senior by only eleven months. “And ruin your diatribe?”
“We’ll put a stop to this outrageous gossip immediately. You know how serious scandals can be. People die from them in crimes of passion, suicides, or duels, and entire families can be ostracized, which is utterly ruining. So I’ll help to defuse this while I’m here.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, dear brother. I rather like the notoriety, and if it warns off the debutantes, all the better. I assure you, no one is dying over any silly rumors circulating about me.”
“When do you even run into debutantes?”
“Our family has too many mothers-in-law who live in London.”
“Ah, point taken.”
“I usually ignore their invitations, but sometimes I can’t. But now I should receive fewer of them.”
“You still don’t want to marry? Ever?”
“When I don’t need to? Our parents have six grandchildren already, and there are bound to be many more, which is more’n enough to assure the family line will continue long into the future. There are benefits to being the youngest of five, Andy. Why the deuce wouldn’t I take advantage of that?”
“Maybe because Father still wants you to marry?”
“Father doesn’t need to always get what he wants. Besides, dragging all his offspring to the altar has just become a bloody habit for him. Why don’t you point that out to him the next time you see him?”
“He’ll probably be here tomorrow, you can brave that conversation yourself.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’ll be leaving in the morning to find new lodgings.”
“Whatever for? I don’t understand why you aren’t living here permanently. This house is huge and usually unoccupied except for the servants.”
“I’m used to smaller accommodations and no servants underfoot.”
“If you tell me you can’t afford—”
“Not a’tall, I just prefer to do for m’self, a habit from my days in the army. I can even cook, you know.”
“Gads, Mother would be appalled, so we’ll keep that tidbit to ourselves. But Father will be angry if you aren’t here when he arrives.”
Montgomery chuckled. “And whose fault will that be, traitor? You shouldn’t have sent for him, so it’s only fair you deal with him. Now I’m off for an evening of revelry. I’d invite you to join me, but your wife would probably object. Don’t wait up, Brother. I expect to be late.”
“You will send us your new address when you get one?” Andrew said as he followed him downstairs.
“Not bloody likely. But I’ll keep in touch.”
He didn’t like leaving his brother frustrated, but since he was leaving London specifically to not be found, he could provide no further explanation. Perhaps someday, when George was king and his brief courtship with scandal was long forgotten, he could at least share his misadventures with Andrew—or not. It wasn’t as if scandals, true or mere rumor, stayed very long in the gossip mill when so many new ones arrived to supplant them.
Before he reached the front door, it opened and their sister Claire swept in. The younger and more petite of his two sisters, Claire took after him with her auburn hair and dark green eyes.
“Monty!” she exclaimed as soon as she noticed him, and opened her arms for a hug. “Is this where you hide? Father will be so pleased to know.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s just a brief visit.”
“And where’s my hug?” Andrew asked Claire.
“I saw you just last week, but I haven’t seen the scamp for months.”
“What are you doing here?” Andrew queried.
“Escaping Father’s nagging about my marital state,” she replied as she removed her fancy bonnet.
“I thought you were separated—”
“Yes,” she cut in. “That state.”
But Andrew continued. “—from the cheater, as you’re now fond of calling your husband.”
“There’s no fond left where he’s concerned.”
“He swears he’s innocent, Claire.”
She humphed. “He swears to lots of things that aren’t true. He’s very good at that—or thinks he is.”
“Well, you’ve come to the wrong place to escape,” Montgomery warned. “Andy sent for Father and expects him in the morning to chew on my ear.”
She grinned. “Better you than me, darling brother!”
He grinned back. “Ah, but I won’t be here to receive the tirade, so you’re welcome to it.”
“How unchivalrous of you—chew on you, why?”
“No time to explain,” he replied, kissing her brow before heading to the door. “Andy can tell you if he must, but it’s all lies and will have a quick demise if left alone, so leave it alone.”
He quickly got into his waiting carriage but still heard his sister yell through the open door, “Gossip! No, no, there can be no gossip!”
Montgomery rolled his eyes but wasn’t going to worry about his siblings undoing his sacrifice. There had been eyewitnesses, as he’d intended, so the gossip about him wasn’t going to be easily dismissed until something new took its place, especially since he would be adding to it tonight. . . .
The address he had been given actually led to a wedding reception. He had no trouble getting in the door, which made him laugh to himself. George had no doubt paved his way. There were musicians and a space cleared for dancing. The bride and groom had apparently already had their twirl on the floor. Should he dance with his target or just get her alone for a few private words? He had to find her first, and that required asking someone to point her out to him. That problem got solved when Anne Beddows suddenly put her arm through his.
“It’s been too long, darling, I’ve missed you.”
He was surprised. He hadn’t seen the young widow since last year, when they’d ended their brief affair amicably. Of all his dalliances, he’d liked Lady Anne best. No strings, no false protestation of love, just laughter and sex. He would have extended the relationship, had enjoyed her that much, but it was better to stay the course, so he broke it off before she started thinking of something more permanent.
“And you are as beautiful as ever, Anne. I trust you still follow your whims?”
“If you mean have I replaced you, of course I have. And you?”
“I pine for you when I allow myself to.”
She blushed slightly but then tapped her fan against his arm to scold, “Ever the charmer, dear boy. But what brings you here?”
“I’m looking for Lady Tyler,” he replied. “D’you know her?”
“Another wager?”
“Wager?”
“Surely that’s what’s behind the recent gossip about you?” she asked.
Trust Anne, knowing him so well, to come up with that excuse, but he replied, “A gentleman never tells.”
She smiled. “I’d forgotten how gallant you are.”
He grinned. “No, you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t,” she agreed, and pointed to his target.
He guessed Anne would be avidly watching, and he hoped so, since one of Anne’s whims was to gossip. He was disappointed to see that his target was yet another lady closer to George’s age than his, but then the Prince did admit these women were old infatuations of his, decades old apparently. He sighed. One more ridiculous endeavor, but for once he was going to try to avoid provoking an insane husband to chop off his head.
Putting on his best smile, he approached Lady Tyler’s table. She was sitting with four friends, all finely garbed. They hadn’t been served food yet, but a servant stood by to refill their glasses. They looked bored with the party and likely wouldn’t get a chance to dance, since they were there without their husbands. They might see him as a boon.
He greeted all of them, gave his name, but his eyes were on Lady Tyler as he asked her to dance. She declined, but her friends, a couple of them giggling, urged her to stand up with him. He smiled charmingly and asked again. Grudgingly, she agreed. Half the battle was won, and there were four avid witnesses to the show.
He wasted no time getting to the point, whispering, “I’m here to do you a service, madam, to deflect any brewing scandal onto myself rather than you and our overzealous friend. You must interrupt this dance with a slap to my face and tell your friends I have been pursuing you all week and you have finally made your rebuff more forceful.”
“I’m old enough to be your mother. No one is going to believe you are seriously pursuing me.”
“Nonsense. You’re still a handsome woman, and I’m a rake, which I’m sure someone of your acquaintance can verify. But truly, only your husband needs to believe it. If he has doubts, tell him I made an effort to seduce you on a bet with my friends. Tell him whatever you like, but assure him I was unsuccessful. I would prefer not to be chased after by yet another husband. I am here merely to enable you to claim innocence. I tried to seduce you, you rebuffed my advances, your virtue and faithfulness remain unharmed. A very simple tactic, one I wish I’d thought of sooner.”
“George was seen at my door,” she whispered.
“Well, other than firing all your servants, can you claim he came by to personally apologize for my horrid behavior? He’s a friend of my father’s, after all.”
“There is still a problem with your strategy, Lord Townsend. I am enceinte.”
Said with an utter blush and adding an infuriating wrinkle to the situation that he hadn’t counted on. In defense of his indulgent friend, he said coldly, “Not by George you aren’t. I know for a fact he visited you too recently for you to know one way or the other.”
Lady Tyler’s blush deepened. “It’s not his.”
“But not your husband’s, either?” he guessed.
“No, he’s been away several months and only just returned to London.”
“Then I would suggest you seduce your husband immediately.”
“Yes, I have decided on that course, but he’s not exactly enamored of me anymore. However, you might be a boon after all. He is a jealous man. If he thinks someone as handsome as you has pursued me, indeed, that might work very well to get him back in my bed, however briefly, and have it be his idea, rather than mine.”
“All good luck with that, my lady. Now, the very loud slap? And do huff off afterward. I will look suitably chagrined.”
Chapter Four
MONTGOMERY WASN’T EXACTLY EXPECTING dawn to be George’s definition of early morning, yet the sky was just turning gray when he was woken by a male servant and told his coach had arrived. He’d prepared ahead, though, in case he overslept, having packed his trunk before he left the house last night. Now he made quick work of dressing. The long strip of linen for his cravat he merely draped over his shoulders for now, and he didn’t take the time to club his hair back because he always had extra ties for that in his coat pockets.
The driver outside was standing by to secure his trunk to the top of the coach, but there were already so many trunks up there, he wondered if his would fit. “More’n one package?” he asked the young man.
“What package, m’lord?”
With a frown, Montgomery opened the door to see for himself how many people warranted that much baggage. One lantern was lit inside, not very bright, but bright enough for him to see just one body was present, huddled in the corner under a furry cloak, apparently still asleep. He thought about slamming the door shut to awaken it, whatever it was, but decided against it. He’d prefer a bit more sleep himself before the sun rose.
He tried, using one of the lap robes on the opposite seat as a cushion so he could lean his head against the side of the coach. One blaring question in his mind kept his eyes open. What sort of “he” could be termed a nuisance? Someone too young, too old, deranged like King George? Was he to be a bodyguard or a bloody nursemaid?
The driver failed to avoid a nasty pothole, which was not surprising when the sun hadn’t quite cleared the horizon yet. But the bounce nea
rly unseated the package.
Golden hair appeared first, a lot of it, then the untied cloak slipped back and the child sat up straight. Fine clothes, exceedingly fine, jewels dotting the starched high collar. Very slim fingers adorned with an excessive number of rings. A large medallion hanging from a very thick gold chain around his neck. The package was a walking bank of wealth. Smooth ivory cheeks, dark blue eyes, dimples that appeared now with a smile of greeting.
“That’s a pretty face,” Montgomery said suspiciously. “If you’re female I’m taking you right back to London.”
“Do you need to see my manly credentials?”
That was so unexpected Montgomery burst out laughing. “When we’re relieving ourselves on the same rock will be soon enough. George didn’t warn me the package would be this young. Is there a good reason he didn’t want me to know who or what you are?”
“Why would you add a ‘what’?”
“More precisely, are you one of his bastards?” Montgomery demanded.
The boy leapt to his feet in outrage but was a tad too tall to pull it off with aplomb, banging his head on the coach roof. The driver started to slow down, apparently thinking he was being directed to stop the vehicle. Montgomery growled before yelling out the window, “Keep going!” then snatched the boy’s arm, pulling him back onto the padded seat.
“You’re lucky you didn’t concuss yourself,” he said. “If you’re going to get angry, stay in your seat to do it. If you’re going to get angry at me, be warned I might shake you out of your temper tantrum. So you’re not a bastard? I suppose I shall apologize for that errant thought. But you’re a child. George bloody well should have warned me.”
“I’m seventeen, no longer considered a child,” the boy replied with markedly arrogant disdain.
“Is that so? Well, I’m Montgomery Townsend. You can call me Lord Townsend. And you—?”
“Can call me Highness,” the boy said stiffly.
“Not bloody likely. So this is what George meant about your predilection for lies. But if I’m protecting an urchin who happens to be wearing fancy clothes, maybe I won’t be very diligent about it. Out with it, who are you really?”
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