Recovering his countenance, Holburn gave Hal an equally cold bow. ‘Remember the advice,’ Holburn said before straightening and walking away.
Ned, a self-proclaimed countryman who spent as little time in London as possible, gazed curiously from Hal’s hostile expression to the baronet’s retreating figure. ‘Who was that?’
‘Insect,’ Hal said. ‘Let’s play cards.’
Obviously determining by the look on Hal’s face that he didn’t wish to discuss the encounter, Ned made no comment, instead hailing a passing waiter. ‘I understand the canal project went well,’ he said after he’d ordered a meal and a deck of cards. ‘Made another thousand pounds since last I saw you? And what have you heard from Nicky?’
‘Canal project goes well. Nothing from Nicky.’
‘I dare say he’s too dazzled by the wonders of ancient Rome and frazzled by co-ordinating a travelling party that includes nearly a dozen adults and several fractious children to find time to write. If I can squeeze enough from the shipment of wheat I’m here to sell, perhaps I’ll give over the profits and let you work your money-growing magic on it. Farmer Johnson has a field adjoining my south pasture that I’ve coveted for years.’
With a little prompting, Hal was able to set his friend off expounding about his estate, cattle and crops. Somewhat guiltily according Ned only a modicum of attention, Hal worried over the purpose behind Sir Gregory’s warning.
It was possible the baronet, as a well-meaning friend of the late Everitt Lowery, was honestly concerned that Hal, admittedly no paragon of fashionable gentlemanly behaviour, might encourage Lowery’s son to follow in his unstylish ways. If so, the man was kind-hearted, if idiotic. At barely seven years of age, David Lowery was likely far too young to permanently adopt any man’s behaviour as his model.
But Hal didn’t think it was just that. There was an undercurrent of an almost—covetedness in the baronet’s demeanour, as if Hal were poaching upon a preserve Holburn considered his own. Might the baronet feel insulted that Lowery had not named Sir Gregory as guardian of his home and property in what Lowery must have considered the unlikely event something happened to him?
Then he remembered a comment by David and the confrontation began to take on another meaning. ‘He never looks at me when he talks,’ the boy had said. ‘He looks at Mama, and his eyes get all funny.’
With a flash of intuition as powerful as it was certain, Hal realised that what Sir Gregory Holburn coveted was not directing Everitt’s Lowery’s estate, but his widow.
Though he might resent Holburn’s disdainful treatment and superior airs, he could hardly hold a fascination with Elizabeth Lowery against the man. Didn’t Hal admire and revere and lust after her himself? Perhaps, sensing Hal’s interest in her or fearing his privileged access to her, Holburn was attempting to warn off someone he thought might be a potential rival. Though with her so newly widowed, surely it was a bit premature to worry about that.
As he trolled his memory for titbits about Sir Gregory, an anger much greater than that induced by the baronet’s snide comments began to build in his chest.
Though Hal spent as little time as he could manage in fashionable society, he was still aware of what transpired there. He now recalled that Sir Gregory Holburn, scion of a distinguished family and owner of several prosperous estates, though highly respected in society and much sought after by hostesses for his polished repartee and immaculate good manners, was not normally invited to the Marriage Mart functions Hal’s mama favoured.
The mamas of society’s hopeful maidens had long ago condemned Sir Gregory as a confirmed bachelor, unlikely to be tempted into matrimony by any of their daughters. Instead, over the years Holburn’s name had been linked with a succession of beautiful and well-born matrons, both widows and married ladies whose husbands either turned a blind eye to, or never suspected, their little affairs.
Was Sir Gregory trying to get Hal out of the way so he could make Elizabeth the object of his gallantry? With her family gone, did he mean to deprive her of any advice and counsel save his own so that he might trade upon her innocence and vulnerability to persuade her to become his next chère-amie?
The mere thought of Sir Gregory sliding his body against hers on the sofa, coaxing the grieving widow to lean upon his shoulder while he stroked lecherous fingers down her peerless soft cheek and murmured soothing words into her ear, filled Hal’s head with a red film of rage.
Not until he felt liquid coursing over his fingers did Hal realise he’d clutched his wineglass so tightly the fragile stem must have snapped. With an oath, he dragged a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, trying to barricade the pool of wine and glass on to the tabletop.
‘Hand uninjured?’ Ned inquired as several alert servants rushed over to attend to the breakage.
Looking down at his fingers disgustedly, Hal noted two small cuts. ‘Nothing to signify.’
‘I know I sometimes prose on about farming until it drives a listener to distraction, but I’ve never before had one destroy a wineglass,’ Ned said lightly. ‘Care to talk about it?’
‘No,’ Hal replied, knowing that, even if he could get out the words to express the turmoil of fury, doubt and jealousy swirling in his head, he couldn’t share so damaging and unproven a suspicion about another gentleman, not even to a friend as close as Ned Greaves. ‘Sorry about inattention, though.’
Ned said, waving a deprecating hand. ‘You’ll remember, I trust, that my advice and assistance are yours should you wish them. Shall we have that game? If you’re going to be distracted, I might as well profit from it!’
Hal forced his mind from the conundrum of Elizabeth Lowery and Sir Gregory Holburn. He’d need to be much calmer before he could think over the situation sensibly.
It wasn’t wise for him to embroil himself any further with—or care too deeply about—the Lowery family. Nicky would be home soon to take over guarding the best interests of his nephew and his sister-in-law. What Elizabeth Lowery chose to do then—whether remarry or take a lover—was really none of Hal’s business.
But until Nicky returned, Hal couldn’t help but believe it was his duty, no matter how painful it might be for him to distance himself later, to continue guarding them now. If he could somehow confirm his suspicions that Sir Gregory was trying to trade upon Elizabeth’s grief and loneliness to coax or coerce her into a premature intimacy, he would have to do something to prevent it.
Doing something almost inevitably meant that tomorrow would not be the only day he’d be spending in close proximity to Elizabeth Lowery. Given that unnerving thought, Hal decided that as soon as he’d lost enough blunt to make Ned happy, he’d pay that visit to Sally.
Chapter Twelve
Several hours later, his purse lighter by an amount that greatly gratified Ned, his anxiety unmitigated by the quantity of wine he’d imbibed, Hal exited a hackney at an elegant town house in Chelsea.
Hal took a deep breath and mounted the stairs, a measure of calm descending on his troubled spirits. Every time he crossed the threshold of this house, he congratulated himself again on his good fortune in meeting Sally Herndon and his good sense, having swiftly recognised her for the gem she was, in persuading her to leave the select brothel in which he’d discovered her.
The town house he’d bought for her had become more a home to him than any other dwelling he owned, a place where he could count upon finding not just physical pleasure, but also a concerned listener, a thoughtful sounding board for his ideas, and shrewd, practical advice whenever he solicited it.
Perhaps he’d first seek some of the latter, since he was currently too disturbed and agitated to feel amorous, he thought as he went into the sitting room adjoining Sally’s bedchamber. Before the evening was out, he trusted Sally’s keen mind would soothe his worries and her skill and intimate knowledge of his body would lead them both to the nirvana of satisfaction and oblivion he craved.
He heard the soft swish of drapery and looked up. Clad in a satin dre
ssing gown, Sally entered the sitting room, carrying herself with that innate queenly dignity that had caught his eye in Madame Lucie’s parlour all those years ago. Taller than most women, her lusciously full figure and long, luxuriant fall of honey-coloured hair made her look every inch the courtesan. Yet one glance at her open, honest face, her intelligent eyes and rosy cheeks adorned with a sprinkle of freckles and Hal always saw the country girl of good yeoman blood she’d once been.
Evidently reading the tension in Hal’s expression, she halted by the sideboard. ‘Some port, Hal?’
‘Please,’ he responded, though thus far tonight wine hadn’t been much help for the anxiety that plagued him.
She brought it over and gave him a kiss. He pulled her into a loose embrace and simply held her, savouring the clean, lemon tang of the soap she used and the comfort of having her in his arms.
Gently she disengaged herself, pointed him to the sofa and went to pour herself a glass before joining him.
‘I was afraid you’d run into difficulties, so long it’s been since you’ve visited me. So, what is troubling you tonight?’ she asked, concern in her blue eyes as she studied him over her wine.
’Twas one of the things Hal most liked about Sally. From the very first, she had treated him not as a protector who furnished her with a house and a wardrobe in return for providing him with the pleasures of the flesh, but as a friend whose company she enjoyed. She asked questions and displayed genuine interest in the answers she waited quietly for him to produce, never rushing him to respond or seeming impatient with his halting replies. With her, he never felt awkward and inadequate for taking as much time as he needed to get the words out. As a result, from very early in their relationship he had come to confide in her and solicit her opinion on more of his concerns than he’d ever voiced to anyone.
‘Was there a problem with the canal workers?’ she prompted, pulling him out of his reminiscence. ‘I hear the lords in Parliament are worried out of their wigs about trade associations forming in the north. Wouldn’t want commoners making demands of the toffs that own the enterprises, now would we? But I hope the dispute isn’t harming your interests.’
Hal grinned at her. ‘Been reading papers again.’
Sally smiled back. ‘What else have I to do all day, after checking with the housekeeper and making sure the butler isn’t robbing you blind? Despite my late profession, I come from industrious stock. I ought to pay you, my lord, letting me lounge about, doing nothing more taxing than tending my vegetables and reading all the periodicals you subscribe to for me. I’ll soon have more education than a ton miss from some fancy lady’s academy.’
Comparing the tone and expertise of Sally’s conversation to that of his mother, a lady born, Hal said, ‘Already have more. Common sense too. More valuable than education.’ And wouldn’t Mama have palpitations were she ever to learn her son had compared her unfavourably to a low-born country lass who’d come to London to ply the only profession left to a maid who’d lost her virtue!
Swallowing a chuckle, Hal said, ‘Canal going well. Opening new phase. Put some money in for you.’
‘How good you are to me, sir! The evening papers have been touting the prospects of canal ventures.’ Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, she laughed. ‘I expect I’m the only demi-rep in London with blunt in investments.’
‘One of few benefits of settling for simple man,’ Hal said. ‘Could have had titled lord.’
Sally shook her head, her expression turning tender. ‘Even as a nodkin straight from the country, I knew the first time I met you that you was better than that whole lot of lordlings visiting Madame Lucie’s. All them looking at me with lust in their eyes, smiling so nice all the while thinking I was no more than a toy for their pleasure. I’ll never forget how different you treated me.’ She angled her head at him. ‘You remember what you said then?’
Hal shook his head and laughed. ‘Sorry, don’t. First time ever in brothel. Terrified, intimidated by all the ladies. Surprised I managed to speak.’
‘You stood on the edge of the room, so tall and handsome and serious, like one of them gods out of that mythology book you got me,’ she recalled. ‘Then you walked past the prettier, more experienced girls right up to me—tall shy Sally, fresh out of the country and probably still smelling of hay. You asked what county I’d come from, like I was some visitor to London instead of a tart in a brothel. I nearly swooned.’
Hal frowned. ‘Are country girl. Never tart. How else survive, after seducer abandoned you?’
‘Well, ’tis good of you to think that, for most folks is ready enough to condemn! I am what I am and don’t mean to deny it, though thanks to you I’ve not had to ply the trade since those early days. Nor, thanks to you, will I ever have to again! You’ve given me more for gowns and trinkets than I’d ever need, even invested money for me. But more’n that, you…talk to me. You never made fun of me wanting to educate myself nor scoffed at the notion of me reading them books and newspapers. When you came back to Madame Lucie’s after that first night and said that you’d make her let me go if I wanted to come with you, I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world.’ She leaned over to press his hand. ‘I still do.’
‘Been good for me too,’ Hal affirmed fondly. ‘Not just bedding me. Friend. Wise.’
‘I’m not so sure about that last,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘So, what now? Counsel first…or comfort?’
Hal gazed over at her. She looked lovely, simply dressed as she always was, whether in modest, fashionable gowns indistinguishable from those of the ton ladies who would cross the street to avoid walking past her, or tonight in her ruffled satin wrapper. But with her firm breasts swelling beneath the dressing gown, her luxuriant hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back, she also looked infinitely desirable. He felt passion stir.
But…he would be seeing Elizabeth tomorrow. If he enjoyed this night with Sally, slept replete in her bed, how could he face Elizabeth with the lemon scent of another woman still in his nostrils, seeped into his skin?
After downing a hasty swallow of wine to try to cool his fevered blood, he said ‘Counsel. Have dilemma. Been standing in for Nicky with sister-in-law. Just lost husband. Finances in disarray. Sorting out. Sad little boy.’ At the thought of David, he smiled. ‘Brought him dog. But…husband’s friend also calling. Sir Gregory Holburn. Widow lovely.’ Just thinking of Holburn’s possible perfidy transformed the heat of desire back to smouldering anger.
An avid reader of the London journals, Sally was more knowledgeable about ton society than Hal. ‘You think he may be trying to persuade the grieving widow under his protection? A fine way to honour the memory of his friend!’
‘Yes, suspect it. Accosted me tonight, warned me off. But how prove? How protect if prove? Maybe wants to accept Holburn. But loved husband, too soon for another.’
‘Mayhap. But finding herself suddenly alone, bereft, uncertain what to do, she may grab the first support she finds. Lucky for her Nicky asked you to be there.’
‘But not there all the time,’ Hal replied, frowning. That was the heart of the dilemma. His first and strongest impulse after the confrontation with Holburn, to install himself on the sofa in the Lowery library where he might guard Elizabeth night and day, was in dire conflict with the imperative, almost as strongly felt, to protect his too-susceptible heart by spending as little time in the Lowery house as possible.
‘Observe what you can when you are there,’ Sally was advising. ‘If it seems the lady favours the gent, then you shouldn’t stick your nose into it. And since most likely this lordling isn’t going to call when you’re at the house, you should find an ally on the staff to tell you of his doings. There’s sure to be a maid or footman happy to earn a coin by reporting what they know of their betters.’
Hal thought of the groom who’d seemed so pleased at David’s delight in the puppy. But would a servant from the stables know enough of what transpired in the house?
‘Try that. S
till worried. Never gone into society. Sheltered whole life by family that loves her. Elizabeth a true innocent.’
Sally’s eyes widened. ‘Elizabeth?’ she interposed.
‘Elizabeth Lowery. Sarah’s sister,’ Hal explained. ‘Afraid Holburn try to manoeuvre, manipulate her.’
Sally frowned. ‘There be another danger. If Holburn treats her like his mistress, taking her about, buying her trinkets, especially so soon after her husband’s death, society will think she’s accepted his carte blanche, whether ’tis true or not. He could use that fact to coerce her consent.’
Anger flared into alarm. ‘Damn!’ Hal exploded, slamming his fist on the side table so hard the wineglass jumped. ‘Hadn’t thought of that. Easier to watch for, though. But how to protect if not sure?’
‘You’re so clever, I know you’ll think of something.’ Sally smiled at him, the slow seductive smile that never failed to turn his thoughts to mush and his body to flame. ‘Just like I’m thinking of…something.’ She ran her finger down his chest.
He was, oh, so tempted…but the image of Elizabeth’s face danced behind his eyelids. Struggling to resist his body’s demand that he succumb, Hal made himself pluck Sally’s fingers from the buttons on his waistcoat. Shaking his head apologetically, he kissed her fingertips.
Sally’s smile faded. ‘You’ll see the lady soon?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Hal confirmed.
Disengaging her hands, Sally rose and walked away. She tucked the dressing gown more firmly about her lush figure before turning back to him. ‘So she’s the one.’
‘The one?’ Hal echoed blankly.
Her expression infinitely sad, Sally nodded. ‘All these years you stayed with me, every spring your mama throwing well-born ladies in front of you…well, at first I just figured you didn’t want to be leg-shackled, leastways not to a chit of your mama’s choosing. But for a long time now I’ve thought there must be…someone else. A lady who died or mayhap married another gent. Someone who kept you coming here while your friends went on to wed.’
A Most Unconventional Match Page 12