Liam reeled at the news as if he’d been stabbed. His hand gripped the edge of the desk. It wasn’t that he was fond of that sketch or even the dagger. No, instead he was alarmed. That sketch usually hung in an upstairs parlor, not in his study. He said as much to Hollycott, then made up his mind to go to Wolford House and sort out this mystery.
“With your injuries, are you certain that is wise, Wolford?” Boswick asked.
“While I am still on my feet, I should like to make use of them.” Liam appreciated the concern but felt guilt over it at the same time. “Besides, it is time that I leave, regardless. Your family has been more than generous. One day, I should like the opportunity to repay you.”
“As I have said before,” Boswick began, “it is not necessary. We were glad to be of service.”
This time Liam would not concede so easily. He was determined to make amends, even if his host—at least, he dearly hoped—was ignorant of the reason. “I should like to, all the same.”
After a moment, Boswick inclined his head. “As you will.”
“Then it is settled.” And so final. Part of Liam already felt the absence of their company. “If you have no other engagements, I would be honored if you would join us at Wolford House.”
Boswick inclined his head in agreement, then stepped apart to have a word with Mr. Finmore and Rendell.
As they made their way to the foyer, Hollycott studied the left side of Liam’s face more closely. “Was this the result of an attack or a pugilism exercise?”
“The former,” Liam answered, “but I don’t think it has any bearing on the burglaries.”
“It might surprise you. If I may, what happened?”
“I still don’t recall everything, but I believe it must have transpired around the time I was leaving a masquerade. It was likely a jealous man because all I remember is one of the men saying, ‘If you let her go, we could end this. Your choice, guvna.’ But since I do not possess any woman, I do not know of whom they were speaking. I’m certain the matter has sorted out itself.”
“How so?”
“Let’s just say that I haven’t been well enough to make any man jealous since.” Just then Liam spotted Adeline on the stairs. Even though he’d never concealed his nature from her, in that moment, he regretted speaking of it with his usual cavalier air.
Their gazes connected, and a pink blush slowly crept to her cheeks. Undeservedly, he felt the warmth of it burrow beneath his skin.
Boswick stepped forward. “My dear, would you please inform your mother that I am going out?”
“Yes, Father,” she said with a nod. Then her gaze alighted on Liam, her delicately arched brows drawing together. “Are all of you leaving?”
If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he felt a tug of pleasure at the concern in her expression, in the soft rounding of her slender brows, the subtle pout of her lips. “Your father has been kind enough to accompany me to Wolford House this morning, Miss Pimm.”
“I will return shortly,” Boswick answered, ending their discussion as they walked out the door.
Liam, however, would not return. He almost said as much to Adeline, but he found he suddenly lacked the energy to bid her farewell. So he merely tipped his hat to her and walked out the door.
“You’ll wear a path on the carpet, dear,” Mother said, when the sound of a carriage drew Adeline to the window. Again. “I would not expect their return so soon.”
Adeline peered out at the street, searching for the family landau from amongst a dozen others passing by. Ever since she learned of the burglary and saw her father and Liam walk out the door, she’d had a feeling that Liam would not return.
Of course, she knew he would leave eventually, when he was fully healed. But this was different. And drat it all, she was worried about him.
She didn’t want to care about him. In fact, she’d been trying to keep her distance from him.
And look how well you’ve managed thus far, she mocked. She nearly laughed aloud at the thought. Had she truly been trying when her lips were pressed against his? She certainly hadn’t attempted to stop his kiss. Their kiss, she corrected. After all, she’d been as much a participant as he.
And then all night long, she told herself that she was glad to have gotten that out of her system. She could go through the rest of her life knowing exactly what kisses were meant to feel like. She would no longer be curious.
Then why was she so eager to kiss him again? Why was the pull to him even stronger than before?
It would be best not to ponder the answer, she was sure.
“Their return? Oh, you must mean father and Wolford. No, I thought perhaps that Juliet would pay a call this morning. She mentioned something to that effect last evening,” Adeline said, pretending to have another purpose for rising so frequently. She also didn’t want her mother to think that she knew every thought in Adeline’s head.
Mother did not look up from her sewing with any sort of speculation or surprise by this announcement. The least she could do was to fake believing her. “Then perhaps you should send word to the kitchen. See if Mrs. Simmons could prepare a tray. You might suggest the spiced scones.”
Adeline wished she’d have thought of that beforehand. It would have made her excuse more plausible. Nevertheless, she took the opportunity to ring the bell and alert Mrs. Simmons of their potential guests. Though, in part, Adeline felt rather foolish for her charade, as if she were ordering a full tea for her imaginary friends.
Then, the moment she sat down to study the ladies quarterly, someone rapped on the lion’s head knocker on the outer door. Startled, she looked up so sharply that she felt a crick in her neck. Mother looked surprised as well.
Adeline recovered and said, “This must be Juliet now,” and sincerely hoped she was correct.
Mr. Finmore arrived at the parlor door, announcing the Duchess of Vale and Lady Granworth. Believing that their butler had misspoken, Adeline expected to see Wolford’s aunt, the dowager duchess, arrive with Juliet. Instead, she was surprised to see Juliet accompanied by a young woman near her age, with white-blonde hair, winter-blue eyes, and flawless skin that glowed with her smile. In short, they were introduced to Ivy Bromley, the Duchess of Vale and wife of Wolford’s cousin.
Shortly thereafter, they sat together, chatting amiably as if they were old acquaintances instead of new. And when the tray arrived from the kitchen, Adeline could have kissed Mrs. Simmons for how well it looked. Resting upon it sat a flowered teapot and tiered tray, laden with spiced scones, mincemeat tarts, and a walnut cake. To others it might have seemed ordinary, but to Adeline, it was the most splendid tea tray ever assembled. Because this was her first London tea and there wasn’t a single guest present who had been forced to attend as part of a chore.
“The dowager duchess spoke highly of you and your family upon her return from the opera,” Ivy said, kindly pouring their tea. “Had it not been for a previous engagement, I would have insisted upon meeting you last night.”
“The generosity of the dowager duchess made the opera a wondrous experience. I am grateful beyond words,” Adeline said and then passed a cup and saucer to Juliet, secretly reveling in this simple act of hospitality. “And Lady Cosgrove is elegance personified.”
“Zinnia said the same of you,” Juliet added. “I believe her description of you was of an easy grace and warmth that charmed her from the start.”
Adeline blushed. She had not realized she made such a positive impression, but she was glad of it. More than that, she was relieved. Apparently no one had noticed her shuffled step.
“My husband planned to join me today to meet you and to visit Wolford. However, he stayed behind when he learned his cousin was no longer here. You see, our house is not too far from Wolford’s in St. James,” Ivy said and frowned. “Terrible business. The house across from ours was burgled as well.”
Juliet reached across and squeezed Ivy’s hand. “Thankfully you did not have to endure this trial. Though I do feel f
or Wolford. I’d heard that he had been burgled before.”
“How awful.” The news shocked Adeline and only added to growing concern she had for him. He already suffered such a violent attack and now this? “Though I am glad he wasn’t present for it. And it is good to know that Wolford has family he can depend upon.”
“And the kindness of strangers,” Ivy said with a smile as she handed Adeline a cup.
“I wouldn’t say that we’re strangers any longer. Serge and I think of him as one of the family.” Mother began slicing into the cake, oblivious to the three teacups that stalled mid-sip.
Adeline nearly choked in her rush to swallow. “But only because my parents feel that way about everyone, our servants and the villagers alike.”
She would have glared at Mother if she wasn’t so busy pretending to be unaffected.
“Forgive me,” Juliet began, her tone tinged with gravity. “I wonder how much you know about Wolford’s reputation amongst the ton.”
Mother nodded solemnly. “He did warn us. Though things like that do not concern us when a man is injured.”
“Which only confirms your goodness,” Ivy said with a warm smile.
“Unfortunately, there are certain persons in society who do not bother to take that into account.” Juliet placed her cup and saucer on the table. “As you likely realized last evening with Lady Falksworth. Her actions were just shy of a cut direct.”
Adeline hadn’t realized it was that serious, but Mother nodded as if she’d known all along. “Mother, you didn’t say a word.”
“I didn’t want to worry you. The night was so full of promise.”
Truer words had never been spoken. Adeline felt another blush when she thought of how last night had ended.
But a cut direct—or a gesture just shy of it—was serious. If Lady Falksworth treated her parents so abominably, and in front of the dowager duchess and Lady Cosgrove, the situation was dire, indeed. A woman’s reputation was all she had.
“That means I won’t gain society’s acceptance.” When Adeline noticed the slight rattle of her cup, she set hers down as well. “Does it not matter that he was bedridden for the entirety of his stay up until today?”
Adeline felt a rush of guilt. Had she taken advantage of him last night? Had he been unable to push her away from him? During the kiss, it certainly hadn’t seemed that he’d lacked any strength, but now she felt rather wanton and lecherous. Poor Wolford! She felt her cheeks heat.
When both Juliet and Ivy nodded solemnly, Mother rose from her chair and stood at Adeline’s side, resting her hand on her shoulder. “Dear heavens, what did Lady Falksworth suppose? That we are such simpletons that we left our daughter unchaperoned in the lair of a libertine?”
“Knowing Lady Falksworth, that is precisely what she thinks. Her ladyship prefers the company of finches so much that, I do believe, she shares the same size brain.” Juliet huffed, her eyes flashing daggers.
Adeline was overwhelmed by the support of her new friend, if a little awed by her. Even scowling did not mar Juliet’s beauty. She could tease, laugh, and also rant but always remain refined.
Then Juliet straightened, sitting at the edge of her chair. “But that will be a trifling matter soon enough, for we”—she gestured to Ivy—“have procured an invitation.”
“And not just any invitation,” Ivy added, a lively grin dancing on her lips and in her eyes, “but the Select Seventy.”
Adeline had read about the Select Seventy in this morning’s Standard. Apparently, this was a big to-do that caused speculation to run rampant over which guests would be invited.
Mother’s grip on Adeline’s shoulder eased. “However did you manage it?”
Juliet beamed. “It turns out that Lady Strandfellow, while having her own reservations, absolutely abhors the idea of agreeing with Lady Falksworth.”
“But, I presume, she still has reservations,” Mother said.
Ivy and Juliet exchanged a look before the latter spoke. “Wolford’s reputation has been so . . . unwashed for so long that nearly every woman who speaks to him at social engagements must deal with speculation of some sort. As you might imagine, he is not often invited to attend proper engagements. Although, since he has such an esteemed title and great wealth, there are some who make an exception.”
Adeline was beginning to see a clearer picture of what Liam’s life was like. Shunned from part of society through his own actions but welcomed by another and solely because of his wealth and title. It was no wonder he had little trust in people.
“North tells me that the ton has always been enthralled by his cousin. Sadly, they are eager for any errant whisper,” Ivy said. “I see a different side of him, however. Though I suppose my fondness for him began the day he brought a toad to my wedding.”
Ivy proceeded to tell the story, and as Adeline listened, she felt a reluctant surge of affection for him. Then she sighed in dismay. It would be so much easier for her to forget about him if he wasn’t so appealing.
Juliet slowly shook her head. “Wolford has far more substance than anyone realizes. That was my own mistake as well. Had I known, I never would have made that wager with Max.” Then she turned her attention to Adeline and Mother. “This was the wager I spoke of at the opera. While it was initially a private battle between Max and me, it is now a rather public war. You see, Max and I have had this ongoing animosity, ever since we were engaged in a small”—she paused to take a sip of her tea—“kissing scandal, over five years ago.”
Adeline sat up a little straighter. “Between you and Lord Thayne?”
Juliet offered a succinct nod and then took another sip. At first, Adeline was surprised by the news and then, recalling the exchange between the pair at the opera, it made perfect sense. Mother too seemed to nod as if the history between Juliet and Thayne were obvious.
Yet, for Adeline, one question remained . . . “How did you survive the scandal?”
“I ran off and married the first man who would have me. Needless to say, mine is not an example to be followed,” Juliet remarked gravely, apparently forgetting the fact that the ton was enthralled by her as well. “Back to the matter at hand—the wager.
“A month or so ago, when I returned to London, I had planned to buy the house that had once belonged to my parents. Unfortunately, upon learning the news, Max went out that very day and purchased the house out from under my nose.”
“No!” Mother gasped. “What a wretched thing to do!”
Adeline and Ivy agreed.
“I was livid but quickly decided to get even instead of angry. I was determined to take back my house by whatever means necessary. It just so happens that Max provided the perfect opportunity that same day. So, when Max began spouting nonsense about how anyone could become the Season’s Original, I challenged him to prove it.” Juliet drew in a breath. “After all, I had the advantage of studying those who were named in the past. I know that it takes a special quality. So, with the help of my dear cousin, Lilah—whom I cannot wait for you to meet once she returns from her honeymoon—I was certain of our success.”
“And she would have been named too,” Ivy said with undeniable certainty.
“But when the end of the month came—that is when the name of the Original is posted in Standard,” Juliet explained, “there was no announcement, other than to say that the Original would be named at the end of this month instead.”
Adeline was putting the pieces together. “So, while you were helping your cousin become the Original, Max was helping Wolford?”
Juliet offered a small laugh. “Max believes he can win the wager without any effort.”
“But at the opera, you made a suggestion to help Max,” Adeline said, confused.
Juliet held her gaze and then Mother’s. “It was not for Max. I simply abhor what gossip can do. And with the help of my gracious friend”—Juliet gestured to Ivy—“the duke and duchess will also attend the Select Seventy. Soon thereafter, your name will be linked to all of
us, respectably separated from Wolford’s reputation without quitting his circle of friends.”
“It is a great honor to be invited and also quite clever of you to secure an invitation which—one can assume—would not be extended to Wolford,” Adeline said. She’d gained an understanding of society’s intricate workings in the last hour.
“Certainly, Max is welcome to try to garner an invitation on Wolford’s behalf,” Juliet said with a slow smile. “However . . . this is a wager after all.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
A headache assaulted Liam. Closing the door of his dressing chamber, he leaned against it, trying to catch his breath. Apparently, he’d grown used to the barest light in Boswick’s guest chamber, because here, it felt like his eyes were about to explode.
This windowless room was the only place in Wolford House that was dark enough and blissfully free of the sounds of servants going about their tasks. Not only that, but it was the only place to escape Rendell’s constant queries and my lords.
Hollycott had left a short while ago but not before asking Liam a series of questions concerning the attack. The inspector was determined to prove that the theft and the assault were related.
What concerned Liam more was the fact that the burglars had been in the parlor. That reason alone demanded a thorough examination of his entire house. Given the amount of items in Liam’s collection, he needed as much help as he could get. Therefore, he postponed the reassignment of servants to Sudgrave Terrace. Which meant that he would not be staying next door to the Pimms until this matter was settled. And perhaps not even then.
Dizziness caused his stomach to roil suddenly. His empty stomach, he reminded himself, pressing a fist there. What he wouldn’t give to have just one more coverlet picnic with Adeline.
A succinct knock sounded on his bedchamber door. The absence of any nervous throat clearing told him that it wasn’t Rendell. When he heard the sure, steady footfalls heading in his direction without having asked permission to enter, Liam knew precisely who it was.
This Earl Is on Fire Page 10