by Darcy Burke
He was so honest, so matter-of-fact, that she couldn’t help but continue to smile. She’d never met a more self-aware person. “I’m sure you’re better than you think. And good for you for mastering riding. That’s no easy feat.”
He nodded, his lips turning up at her compliment. “Thank you. The head groom at Carlyle Hall said I was a natural. I think he was trying to ensure I didn’t sack him. All the retainers tiptoed around me for a good three months before they realized I was more afraid of them than they could possibly be of me.”
She picked up her bonnet, which she’d worn earlier on her walk, from a table in the foyer. “You weren’t really afraid?”
He bowed forward as if he were imparting a deep secret. “Terrified. I’d had a cook, a housekeeper, and a butler who served as my father’s valet for a time, but the number of servants at Carlyle Hall was positively intimidating. They knew everything I didn’t, their manners put mine to shame, and I daresay a few of them might’ve been garbed better.”
She tied the ribbons beneath her chin and pulled on her gloves, also from the table. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”
He looked at her with mock incredulity. “Have you seen the amount of starch in the shirt of a butler who’s in charge of a large manor house? It could stiffen the Thames.”
She laughed and then informed Moss of her departure. Daniel held the door open for her and escorted her to his phaeton, a sleek, black lacquered affair with a gorgeous bay.
She walked to the vehicle and ran her hand along the side. “Your vehicle is splendid. But if you aren’t comfortable driving it, why do you have it?”
He came up beside her. “Because I inherited it, and Aldridge assured me it was the height of fashion for me to drive a phaeton. Do you think I could do without it?”
The mention of Aldridge was like a dark storm cloud, but Jocelyn refused to let the vile man dampen what was turning out to be an outstanding afternoon. She pretended his name had never been invoked. And since he’d advised Daniel to keep the phaeton, she was contrary enough to suggest just the opposite. Plus, it was true. “Anyone who would judge a man by his vehicle is no one worth knowing. Such opinions are asinine. I wouldn’t care if you drove a twenty-year-old barouche.” She purposely let her gaze turn serious. “I wouldn’t care if you drove nothing at all.”
He helped her up into the phaeton, and his hand lingered around hers. “You just demonstrated the value of your opinion. I shall rethink the phaeton.” His eyes connected with hers on an intimate level, confirming the mutual admiration growing between them.
He gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it. Warmed by his attention, she slid across the seat—but not all the way to the other side—as he climbed up to sit beside her.
“I’d forgotten how high up we would be,” she said, eyeing the faraway ground. She hoped he was a better driver than he said.
With a flick of the reins, he smoothly guided them forward. Though they weren’t touching, he sat close enough to her right side that she could feel his heat. “You’ve ridden in a phaeton before?” he asked.
“Just once, during my Season.” She studied his profile. He was distinctively attractive. “I tried to recollect you from then, but I can’t.”
“That’s because I wasn’t in London two years ago. I inherited the title a few months prior and wasn’t ready for Society yet.” He gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Though I’m still not sure I am.”
He was too hard on himself. At least he didn’t go around with a mouth that overtook his brain. “Nonsense. You’re equal to the task, my lord.”
He stopped the phaeton before turning onto Park Lane. “I appreciate your confidence. Though it’s been a challenge. People assume that because I was a constable who wasn’t raised to be a peer, that I’m somehow … less.”
She understood the prejudice he faced. “Which is ludicrous because you’ve likely done more good than most of them could imagine.”
He cast her a sideways glance, his dark eyes burning bright beneath the brim of his hat. “You’re doing wonderful things for my self-esteem.”
“Somehow I doubt it’s in much danger. Still, I applaud you muddling through in the face of everyone’s judgment. Society can be quite terrifying in their assumptions.” She studied him from her side of the phaeton. “What would your assumptions have been of me? If you made them, which I’m sure you have not.”
He guided the phaeton along Piccadilly toward Hyde Park Corner. “On the contrary, I made a very wrong assumption when I first saw you across the ballroom on the night we met. I immediately supposed you must be married. A beautiful young woman like you had to be.”
His words sent a delicious heat across her skin. “You saw me across the ballroom?”
The look he cast at her took her breath away. “Why do you think you stepped on my foot? I’d moved to intercept you.”
The heat dove inward, and awareness sparked inside of her. “I’m afraid I wasn’t paying much attention.”
“I remember. You were barreling across the ballroom as if your life depended on it.”
Following Lady Aldridge. “I’m afraid when I’ve set my mind to something, I’m rather single-minded. I don’t always see everything I should, such as your foot.”
He chuckled. “I understand. I’m the same with a case. My father used to say I could be consumed by my work if I wasn’t careful.”
“And was he right?”
“Yes. It’s probably good I stopped to become a viscount.” He nodded very slightly as if he were responding to some inner conversation she couldn’t hear. “Working so closely with criminals takes a toll.”
His words elicited a dark shiver along her neck. They turned into the park, which was crowded with vehicles and pedestrians since it was nearing five o’clock.
“Is it wise of you to be working on my case, then?” she asked.
“I think so. It’s just one case after all. But I may be out of practice. I haven’t anything to report as of yet, I’m afraid.”
She laughed, hoping to put him at ease. He wasn’t really disappointed in his abilities, was he? “It’s only been a day!”
“Yes, but I’m used to quick results.” He smiled lopsidedly. “I told you I could get lost in my work.”
She was fascinated by his experience. He was so different from every other gentleman she’d met. “Will you tell me about it?”
He slowed the phaeton, not that they’d been going overly fast, and joined the park traffic. “It’s not terribly exciting.”
She tapped his sleeve with her palm. “Don’t bam me. You want to talk about it.”
He grinned at her. “Investigative work involves talking to a lot of people. As a constable, I amassed a great number of contacts. I’ve visited some of them, but so far none have had any useful information. I’m hopeful that will change. I have boys making some inquiries and following—never mind, this must be dreadfully dull.”
“Not at all, I find it intriguing.” If only because it’s about you. She wanted to know everything about him, how he’d diverted from a potentially troublesome occupation to embracing his title. Wait, did he embrace it? “You say it’s good that you became a viscount. Do you really think so? You’ve said you’re not very good at it, but from what I can tell you’re better than average. You dance well, your driving is excellent, and you’re far more entertaining to talk to than any of the gentlemen I met during my Season.”
“And were there a lot of gentlemen?” He slid her an inquiring glance, and she briefly wondered if he were jealous. If she thought about him talking with other ladies … She was suddenly quite jealous.
“Not so many. I was only out a fortnight before the robbery.” She didn’t want to think about that. This was the best day she could remember in such a long time. Maybe forever.
He turned his head toward her and she felt the weight of his stare like a caress. “I’m glad.” He hastened to add, “About the number of gentlemen, not the robbery.”
> “Of course.”
“I should be sorry your Season ended that way, but selfishly I’m glad it means you’re here now. With me.”
Her pulse picked up with anticipation. “My lord, are you hoping to court me?”
His blue-gray eyes were intent, captivating. “I might be. Would you be amenable?”
While she’d enjoyed their flirtation immensely, she had to know if he was earnest. She didn’t want to get her hopes up for nothing. “I’m surprised by it, my lord. I thought my stealing my possessions from Lord Aldridge rather put you off.”
His hands tightened around the reins, making Jocelyn think of her own stretched nerves as she waited for his response.
“I’ll be honest, it did. But I also understand why you did it. Your willingness to return the items if Lord Aldridge innocently purchased them is honorable, and I respect you for it.”
Her chest lightened. “Thank you. Though it will be quite difficult to return them because they are mine,” she said, half trying to provoke him. However, his attention was focused on a gentleman standing at the left edge of the path: Lord Aldridge.
She squared her shoulders and steeled herself against his odious presence. She really had nothing but loathing for the man because she didn’t think for a moment he could possibly be innocent.
“Carlyle!” Aldridge called. His gaze flicked to Jocelyn, and she didn’t miss the deep lines that spread out from his mouth before he forced a smile. “Miss Renwick.”
Daniel steered the phaeton to the left and came to a halt beside Aldridge. “Lovely day,” Daniel said. “Where is Lady Aldridge?”
Aldridge inclined his head to a grassy area off the path. “Chatting with her friends.”
The earl stood perhaps ten feet away, close enough for Jocelyn to wish she was on the other side of the carriage. Her eye was drawn to his lavender waistcoat. It was a rather feminine color, and then she noticed the ribbon of his watch fob matched the hue. And there, dangling at the end of the ribbon, was her father’s hand-painted fob. She leaned so far forward to get a closer look that she almost fell out of the phaeton.
Daniel’s hand came around her waist and he pulled her back into her seat. If she wasn’t so agitated by the sight of Papa’s fob on that scurrilous Lord Aldridge, she would have appreciated the intimacy of his rescue. Instead, she said, “I couldn’t help but notice your fob, my lord. What a unique piece.” As unique as her mother’s pendant.
Aldridge slid his fingers down the ribbon and stroked his thumb over the glass-encased, hand-painted ivory oval that was so similar to the pendant. “It is indeed.”
“I simply must know where you got—”
Daniel’s hand squeezed her waist, which sent a ticklish jolt up her side. She jumped and turned to look at him. He gave her a dark, meaningful stare that said, “Hold your tongue.” Which was a constant battle for her. With great effort, she closed her mouth and smiled with a serenity she didn’t feel.
Aldridge’s brows lifted, but then he schooled his features into a benign expression. “Good to see you, Carlyle. I’ll see you at White’s later?”
“Probably. Give my best to Lady Aldridge.” Daniel guided the phaeton back into traffic. When they were several yards away, he said, “You can’t speak to Aldridge like that, especially in public.” He kept his voice low, but the disapproval in his tone was as loud as church bells.
She turned slightly in her seat so she could see him better. “I can’t ask him a simple question, yet he can rudely say it was “good to see you” without addressing my presence?”
Daniel threw her an exasperated glance. “What did you expect him to do after your behavior?”
“My behavior? You’re the one who manhandled me in public.”
“I had to do something before you spoke completely out of turn. Careful, or next time I may find another way to occupy your lips.” He pinned her with a hot, penetrating look.
It was perhaps the only thing he could’ve said to shut her up. And it worked perfectly. Jocelyn sat back in her seat and stared forward while heat collected in her belly. Next time. He’d better be careful or she’d make it her life’s work to publicly interrogate Aldridge. A kiss—public or otherwise—from Daniel would be worth any price.
She slid a glance at his mouth. It was very nice, with a plump lower lip that she suddenly imagined nibbling with her teeth. Good heavens, she wasn’t a wanton, what was wrong with her? She’d hoped to find someone, but to feel this level of attraction was a surprise. A very welcome and heady surprise.
He turned the phaeton down another path toward the Grosvenor Gate. It seemed their drive was nearly over. She regretted her overzealous tongue. Had she put him off entirely? She snuck another look in his direction and started when she realized that his eyes were fixed on her like a cat stalking a bird. But unlike that bird, she had no wish to fly away.
“Where will you be this evening?” he asked, his raw voice—it lacked the cultured specificity of most London fops, she finally realized—spreading over her like cream on a hot scone.
“At home.” She stared at him, unable to look away from his magnetic gaze. “Mrs. Harwood doesn’t like to go out every night.”
He blinked, lessening the spell between them, but not breaking it entirely. “Pity, for then I can’t ask you to dance again.”
She nearly exhaled with relief. She hadn’t lost him, then. If he could tolerate her runaway tongue, she might have to marry him on the spot. Provided he asked her, that was. As usual, she was getting ahead of herself.
“Tomorrow we’ll be at the Pellinghams’,” she said.
“Excellent, I shall be sure to be there as well. In the meantime, I will continue my investigation and keep you apprised of any developments.”
“Thank you.”
They fell silent again as they left the park. When they turned into Hertford Street she found the courage—which in itself was noteworthy, for she never had to strive to speak—to ask, “Did you mean what you said earlier? About occupying my lips?”
He stopped the phaeton in front of her town house. “I not only meant it, I’ll consider it a disappointment if I don’t get the chance.”
Chapter Seven
WITH NO hope of seeing Jocelyn tonight—he vaguely noted he’d somehow switched to thinking of her by her Christian name—and a half-promise to meet Aldridge at White’s, Daniel made his way up the steps of the St. James Street club. It had been such an invigorating afternoon, even with her faux pas. He was already counting the minutes until their dance. And maybe something more.
Damn, but being a viscount certainly made things difficult. In his old life, he would’ve been able to steal a kiss—or more—by now. He supposed he could’ve yesterday at her town house. However, the timing had been extremely poor. He wasn’t the sort of man who kissed someone after her house had been robbed.
A footman opened the door, and Daniel made his way inside. The interior was filled with important, wealthy, privileged men. Men with whom Daniel barely felt comfortable. Being here at White’s, amidst all of the history and pomp, had been very intimidating at first, but now it was just … necessary. If he wanted to be an influential member in the House of Lords, he needed to participate in all the trappings of being a lord. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the political discussions he often engaged in here, particularly when he was able to bend someone’s ear about the need for police reform or the deplorable conditions in London’s prisons, especially the “hulks” bobbing in the Thames, carrying thousands of prisoners in their filthy depths. No, it was everything else that taxed his patience—the betting book, the gambling, the excessive drinking. He’d seen enough of that behavior during his constable days and he’d seen it executed by far better sots than these pretenders.
Aldridge hailed him from a table on the other side of the room. Daniel made his way toward the man who’d been such a good friend and confidant the past two years. He never could’ve navigated the breach from constable to viscount without his he
lp. And now he had to accept the possibility that the man could be a criminal. He gave his head a mental shake. No, that couldn’t be possible. Aldridge might’ve had no knowledge the items had been stolen. At worst, he’d purchased stolen property, and he’d refused to acknowledge it to Jocelyn because he was embarrassed to have been caught.
But what of the watch fob he’d been wearing today? If he were truly embarrassed, Daniel would think he’d either return the fob to Jocelyn or at least hide it away. Instead, he’d worn it quite blatantly.
“Carlyle, I’ve ordered our usual.” A bottle of ten-year-old Highland whisky sat in the middle of the table. Aldridge poured him a tumbler. “Good to see you.”
Daniel sat and accepted the glass. “Thank you.” He took a swig, savoring the smoky tang as it slid down his throat. He never could’ve afforded such luxury as a constable. Peerage definitely had its benefits.
Aldridge sipped his whisky. “You know I’ve always guided you well, don’t you?”
“Of course, and I appreciate your help.”
Aldridge nodded vigorously. “Certainly, my boy, certainly. There’s no easy way to say this, so forgive my candor. Miss Renwick would be a perfectly acceptable wife if you were Constable Daniel Carlyle. However, you’re now Viscount Carlyle, peer of the realm. You should set your sights much higher. You need to.”
It came as no surprise that Aldridge would want to steer him away from Jocelyn. If matters did progress with her, he hadn’t the foggiest notion how things would go with the earl. And he didn’t want to have to choose one over the other. Although, if Aldridge were somehow involved in the theft of Jocelyn’s things, or if he refused to recognize they were rightfully hers, Daniel was going to have a difficult time maintaining their friendship.
He set his glass on the table, but kept his fingers curled around the base. “Does it really matter who I marry, provided she isn’t a pariah?”
“Absolutely,” Aldridge said, his eyes full of fiery conviction. “It’s of the utmost importance. You need a wife who can manage your households, preside over social events, and make dukes feel comfortable.”