by Jaimey Grant
“What business does Desmond Forester have with you?”
*
Chapter Nine
While Aurora avoided Society and Derringer played sleuth, Levi was trying to see Aurora—only to be turned away at the door—and avoiding the various traps planted by his mother to get him leg-shackled, with or without his willingness. The persistence of the woman was admirable but to be the recipient of her demented plottings was maddening.
After a grueling day of squiring his mother about town, Levi was obliged to escort her to a few parties. He did his duty by depositing her on the doorstep of Lord and Lady Sheffield’s residence in Berkley Square. He would have made his excuses and walked to Brooks’s for what he considered a well-deserved hand of cards but Lady Greville stopped him before he’d made it two steps.
“Son, I will have need of you tonight.”
Levi eyed his parent with suspicion. He never trusted her when she called him son. It usually meant she either wanted something or was planning something.
“Yes, Mother,” he returned dutifully.
The brightly arrayed countess swept regally into the mansion ahead of her son to greet the Sheffield family. Levi performed all the social niceties, proclaiming Lady Sheffield to be stunning and assuring the buck-toothed Lady Esmeralda Sheffield that she was enchantingly lovely, then escorted his mother into the overcrowded ballroom.
The heat from so many candles and bodies was stifling. Levi wondered how his mother could withstand it draped as she was in the heaviest materials man could produce.
Lady Greville requested that he lead her to the row of dowagers at the back of the room. The earl did so with alacrity, hoping against hope that he might then at least be able to escape to the card room.
She let him escape but he only made it part of the way to his destination. Lady Marigold Danvers blocked his path.
Controlling his expression to hide his disappointment, Levi inquired with a bow, “How do you do, Lady Marigold?”
The expected giggle broke free from the young lady’s pink lips as she answered. “I am quite well, Lord Greville.”
He wanted to say something to make her leave and he found himself envying Derringer’s ability to just be rude and walk away. Why must he bow to Society’s whims just because he was only an earl instead of a duke?
Because he was a gentleman, he thought. Derringer made no such claims.
Lady Marigold was speaking again. Levi started listening only to realize who it was she slandered with malicious glee.
“So naughty of you not to do right by her but who can blame you. Rumor declares her to be quite free with her favors. It has even been noted that her sister resembles her far more than a mere sister ought.”
The horror of that statement washed over him before he could tell himself it was utter nonsense. A moment later, he’d managed to tamp down the panic and favor Lady Marigold with a look of reproach. How he wished he could give her a proper setdown.
It was at such times that Derringer proved himself to be the very best sort of friend. Before Levi could form so much as a reply to her infuriating comment, the duke’s voice cut in.
“Mari,” he said in a lazy drawl underscored with steel, “refresh my memory. Do you recall that night…?” A sardonic glimmer entered his eyes as understanding dawned in Lady Marigold’s. “Remember Suzanne Weatherby, my dear girl. Flee now, while you have the chance.”
She bobbed a curtsy fit for royalty and fled.
Levi watched her go, his brow furrowed. “Did you really…?”
“Good Gad, no! Give me more credit than that.” The smile that curved his lips made Levi distinctly nervous. “All it takes in Society is for someone to make the claim.”
“Well, I do appreciate the help.”
Derringer shrugged nonchalantly. “What are friends for if not to scare off importuning hussies and their militant mamas?”
Levi gave the only answer he could to such an outrageous remark. “Of course. I must have missed that somewhere in the rule book.”
The two gentlemen continued on their way to the room set aside for those ladies and gentlemen who preferred to forgo the dancing in favor of cards.
“Why is your mama looking at us as though she were planning a truly horrendous scandal?” inquired the duke casually as they skirted around a group of gentlemen near the card room.
Levi didn’t bother to turn around. “Probably because she is.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I am already believed to be a rake of the first order since my engagement to Rory has not been announced so I doubt she can do any further harm.”
The duke stopped in his tracks, turning to his friend. “That has to be the single most unintelligent thing you have ever said.”
The earl nudged his friend forward and the two sat down across from each other at a hitherto empty table near the back of the card room. “How so?” Levi asked as they were joined by the unprepossessing Eden Farnsworth.
“I believe Hart is referring to underestimating the machinations of a desperate woman, Vi,” offered Farnsworth. “Your mama wants her allowance reinstated and that will only occur when you marry a fortune to support her habit for eye-catching raiment.”
“What are we talking about?” asked the young Earl of Holt. He settled his lanky form into a vacant chair, casting a sleepy-eyed glance around the table.
Derringer gave him an almost-amused look. “Vi wants to believe his mama cannot create more of a scandal than that in which he is already embroiled. I pointed out his stupidity in believing her harmless and Eden informed him as to why. Now what do you think, Lord Witless?”
Lord Holt—who as a child had been plain Lord Gideon de Witt—leveled his hooded gaze on the duke at the other man’s use of his boyhood appellation. “I think someone should call you out, Hart,” he replied with dull seriousness. He looked at Levi. “And I agree with Eden, Vi. Your mama is dangerous.”
“Just how the devil do you all know my business?”
Derringer waved away the servant offering them cards and pulled out a set of dice. “Hazard, anyone?”
“Is that a good idea with Eden sitting right here, Hart? He may feel it is his duty to turn us over to the proper authorities for illegal dicing,” Holt asked with what appeared to be nothing more than weary boredom.
The duke smiled at Lord Holt. “The last time I checked, all gambling in England was illegal. So I don’t think a paltry game of hazard among friends at a ball will constitute a parliamentary debate.”
Eden grinned and reached for the dice. “I agree, gentlemen. Let us play.”
“Is anyone going to tell me how you all know my business?”
All eyes turned to Levi, mostly amused. Derringer appeared annoyed but everyone knew appearances were oft deceiving. It was Lord Holt who answered his question.
“We are not the only ones who know, Vi,” he said lazily. “Your dear mama has seen fit to inform the ton of your unfairness in cutting off her generous allowance.” He shrugged. “When she added that things would soon change, it was obvious to everyone what your plan is.”
“I should have known,” muttered Levi.
Lord Delwyn Deverell entered the room looking around as if in search of someone. He spied the four gentlemen in the far corner bending over a pair of dice and talking idly. With a grim look of determination, the young lord sauntered over.
“Hazard, gentlemen? For shame,” he admonished with a smile.
“Spare us your lectures, Devil,” sneered Derringer, “and pull up a chair.”
Lord Delwyn glanced uncertainly at the duke. “Actually, I am here on a mission,” he told them.
The duke leaned back in his chair to study the younger man closely, a look of feigned excitement on his chiseled features. “Do tell? A mission, you say. I vow I am on tenterhooks of anticipation. For whom are you on this noble mission, Lord Devil? The corpulent Prince of Wales, perhaps? Or maybe mad King George himself?”
This last suggestion was met with aston
ished silence by some of the tables close enough to overhear. To say the king was mad smacked of sedition—although it was true. Of course, no one present was daring enough to call the duke out on it.
Lord Delwyn looked at Levi, who shrugged. “Actually,” he said, “I am here in search of you, Vi. Lady Greville asked me to inform you that she is feeling unwell and would like to depart. She is awaiting you in the little salon just next to the blue drawing room.”
Derringer frowned but said nothing. Levi looked expectantly from the duke to Lord Delwyn, then at the frowns of Farnsworth and Lord Holt. That the lazy earl was frowning was enough to cause prickles of alarm.
But there was no help for it. He stood. “Very well.”
As Levi moved around to leave, Derringer laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t trust her, Vi. You know as well as I that she is hatching something and most likely it is not to your benefit.”
~~~~~~
Upon entering the specified room, the earl was suddenly sure that Derringer was wholly correct in his estimation. Something wasn’t right. First of all, his mother, whom one would have trouble missing, was not in the room. Second, although the room was lit by two or three candles, he could see no one. He sensed he wasn’t alone, however.
“Damn,” he muttered. He turned and made for the door but a lady in pale pink blocked his path.
A long-suffering sigh exited his lungs. “Lady Mari, whatever are you about?”
Her normally pretty though insipid features were twisted into a look of anger. Levi realized he was seeing the old Lady Marigold Danvers, the one who was known for her quick mind but stupidity in the face of not getting her own way.
“I have had it with the barely veiled dislike with which you are fond of greeting me, my lord. I want your title; I want your properties. In a minute, you’ll be caught with me and you’ll be forced to marry me.” As she spoke, Lady Marigold reached up and tore her dress so that her stays were visible. “When I scream, we’ll be joined by Lady Watson, who is more than happy to destroy a reputation or force someone into a marriage as miserable as her own.”
A smile stretched across her face like a cat about to devour a helpless mouse. Levi strode forward and clamped a hand over her mouth before the expected scream could emerge from her lovely throat.
Holding her tight enough to elicit an alarmed squeak, he bit out, “I would not do that, Lady Mari, if I were you. I have already been caught making love to one woman without offering her marriage. I liked that woman. What I feel for you is quite the opposite. What makes you think I would offer for you when I have not even offered for her?”
Lady Marigold jerked her head from his grasp, glaring at him awfully. “My father would call you out. He would never let me suffer the scandal of being attacked by you.”
“I will not marry you.”
With complete faith that she’d never destroy her reputation in such a way, thereby making a duel with Lord Charteris unnecessary, the earl released her. A moment of indecision crossed her countenance.
Then Lady Marigold screamed.
Levi stared at her in dumb shock, surprised at her daring. He was bluffing. He would never duel with Lord Charteris, would do anything to avoid it, in fact, and evidently the quick mind hidden in Lady Mari’s lovely head had picked up on that pertinent truth. He wished she were truly as brainless as she delighted in acting.
Her scream was cut off suddenly as the Duke of Derringer entered and slammed the door behind him. Turning the key in the lock, he swung around to glare at Lady Marigold. She squeaked and shrank away from him, clutching her dress closed in front of her.
Stalking her, he didn’t stop until she had backed into the wall and he was nearly standing on her toes. Grasping her wrist, he leaned down, putting his face within inches of hers.
“One more sound, Lady Marigold, and you will learn the lesson your father should have taught you years ago,” he whispered harshly. “Never enter a room alone with a man unless you plan on losing what you so carelessly wave in his face.”
Derringer kissed her hard on the mouth and tossed her away from him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had burst into wrenching sobs of horror. He ignored her and turned his glaring countenance to his friend.
“I saw Lady Watson marching this way and waylaid her. She was far more intrigued by a certain Mr. Quincy who was drunk as a lord and singing a naughty ballad within hearing of the delicate ears of her daughters.”
Levi glared at Derringer. “I could have handled it, Hart. I don’t need someone forever rescuing me.”
A brief scratch at the door made the duke unlock it for whoever desired entrance. “Very well, Vi. And may I offer my congratulations?” he retorted with a mocking bow.
Luckily, it was only Lord Holt, Eden Farnsworth and his married sister, Lydia. Gideon favored the room with a sleepy smile and said, “We thought the presence of another female might not come amiss.”
“Not necessary, Witless,” assured Derringer. “Levi has just informed me that he does not require our help. Apparently, he would like to wed Lady Mari.”
The earl’s sleepy gaze rested on Derringer. “Remind me to call you out later.”
Eden said, “Silence is coming.”
Levi groaned. “Just what I need. Lady Jersey declaring Mari’s torn frock to all and sundry.”
“Do not worry about that, my lord,” murmured the energetic and effervescent Lydia. The young lady rushed over to Lady Marigold. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry! I have inadvertently torn your gown. How very clumsy of me,” she declared in a voice loud enough for half the kingdom to hear.
Levi noticed a beautiful brooch was clasped in Lydia’s hand. He sent a questioning look to Eden whose benign smile revealed nothing.
“It is such a flimsy material, Lady Mari,” continued Lydia in what Levi was sure was not her acting debut. “I will replace it for you, you can be sure. I just wish I had been more careful when trying to fasten this brooch.”
“Brilliant, Witless,” muttered the duke disparagingly. “I assume this was your plan. It has all the brains you can boast.”
“I don’t see you coming up with anything better, your grace,” snapped the earl. “What were you planning? Threaten the girl until she ran screaming from the room? You would have had the Watch called down on all our heads.”
Derringer opened his mouth but said nothing, struck speechless in the face of Lord Holt’s unusual display of temper.
The look of boredom that usually rested on Lord Holt’s features returned and he smiled lazily. “Admit it, Hart. That’s all the better plan you had.”
“True,” admitted the duke, neglecting to admit that he had already threatened her the most effective way he knew how. “But it has yet to fail me. Do you really believe this plan of yours will work?”
“We will see momentarily.”
The door opened then to admit Sally, Lady Jersey, a look of anticipation on her pretty face. She was disappointed when she caught sight of Lydia leaning solicitously over Lady Marigold as well as the presence of the four gentlemen.
Derringer stepped forward and daringly pulled her against him. “Sally, you delectable creature, why do you tease me so with your air of innocence? Let us run away together. I could teach you what it is to be loved by a real man.”
Lady Jersey giggled like an ingénue and pulled out of his arms. “You, your grace, are a sinful flirt. I know you merely try to distract me from getting at the truth in this situation.”
Derringer effected outrage at such a suggestion. “How could you think I would be so unfeeling, so…heartless?”
His query made everyone stop what they were doing and stare at the duke. Shrugging, he propped his muscular form against the wall, making himself nothing more than a casual observer.
Levi, having been nothing more than a curious spectator for the last several minutes, decided it was time to speak. He favored Lady Jersey with his heart-stopping smile. “My lady, I fear you have caught us all out in an indiscretion.�
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Her ladyship perked up at this tidbit of information. Like a hound on the scent of a fox. Will she howl and take off at a run?
“You see,” continued Eden Farnsworth, “my sister offered to help Lady Mari to reattach her brooch when it had unexpectedly become unclasped.”
“In my exuberance,” inserted Lydia, with the look of a brainless twit, “I accidentally tore her gown. Such a clumsy mistake.”
Lady Jersey looked unconvinced but in the face of everyone assuring her this was the truth, she couldn’t refute it. Lady Marigold remained wisely silent on the whole matter.
Lady Greville joined their group to gape at the young lady who had tried to compromise her son. “What has happened?” she asked imperiously.
“I am sorry, my lady!” exclaimed the much distressed Lady Marigold. “I tried…ow!”
Lydia turned to Lady Marigold. “Oh, my dear, did I prick you? I’m so sorry. Let us retire to the ladies’ withdrawing room. I do think you may be bleeding.”
The young ladies departed before Lady Marigold had the chance to further damage her reputation. As she passed the Earl of Greville, Lydia muttered, “You are fortunate I did not stab her to death. You owe me a grand favor for this.”
The look of laughter that crossed Lord Holt’s features—as he happened to be near enough to hear the comment—was gone in an instant. Levi nodded to the young lady.
“Well, I have had about enough of this damnable business,” declared Derringer, pushing away from the wall. He crossed to the door, pausing next to Lady Greville, his face blanked of all expression, his eyes focused somewhere over her ladyship’s head. “I wondered that she even attempted to entrap your son. Was my earlier threat not enough, do you think?”
Levi could hear Derringer’s softly uttered words and was not really surprised that his mother had orchestrated the entire contretemps. The profound disappointment he felt was far more surprising.
“Next time you decide to cause mischief,” the duke offered softly, “be sure I am not in attendance. You may not want me to reveal to Society what I know of you.”