by Brenda Hiatt
"Of course." Noel was acquainted with Captain Steen. It would be an easy matter to verify Sir Nelson's story. If it checked out— which he unfortunately feared it would —that would rule him out as a suspect. Still, there were those essays, and his sister must have picked up her revolutionary ideas somewhere . . .
Noel glanced across the room, reassuring himself that Miss Riverstone was still engaged in her chess match —and nothing else. "Tell me, Sir Nelson, do you ever read the Political Register?" he asked in as offhand a manner as he could manage.
His companion frowned. "What, Cobbett's two-penny trash? My sister may believe the tripe he prints, but I've never wasted my time on it. Seditious drivel, if you ask me. Ro been spouting her theories to you or something?"
Again, though he tried, Noel could detect no trace of guile in the man. He seemed genuinely contemptuous. "Your sister and I have had some— interesting— discussions, yes."
"Told her she ought to keep her opinions to herself." Sir Nelson snorted. "Not that she'd listen to me, any more than she did to our father. Warned her she'd never catch a husband with that tongue of hers."
Noel had an intriguing vision of Miss Riverstone's sweet, pink tongue, darting between those perfectly shaped lips, touching, teasing—
"Er, yes, I see your point," he said before his abstraction could be noticed. Then, feeling obliged to defend her, he added, "There are some who might appreciate her intelligence, however."
Sir Nelson grinned. "Like you, Paxton? Or maybe Lester Richards there—he's the intellectual sort."
Following his glance to the chess match still underway, Noel frowned. "A bit old for her, I'd say."
"Ro needs a firm hand," her brother said with a shrug. "A man closer to our father's age might be just the thing. Besides—" But then he broke off and shrugged again. "Think I'll find a baccarat table if you don't mind, Paxton. Care to join me?"
"Thank you, no." Positive now that Sir Nelson was not the man he sought, Noel was anxious to return to Miss Riverstone's side.
She knew the identity of that essayist, he was certain. If it was not her brother, it must be someone else she knew from Oakshire, which meant she was still his best lead— reason enough to stay close to her. If there was another reason, he chose to ignore it.
* * *
Rowena moved her knight back to the same square it had occupied three moves ago, trying to prolong the game until another chance for private talk presented itself. That effort had been aided by her eyesight. Twice, she had mistaken a bishop for a pawn, to her detriment. Still, she had made steady inroads and now held a clear advantage on the board.
To her relief, Lord and Lady Norville finally moved away. She glanced up at Mr. Richards, ready to reopen the topic of Nelson's debts —only to see Mr. Paxton returning.
"Still at it, I see," he commented with a smile.
"The lady is quite skilled." Mr. Richards' voice held an edge Rowena had not noticed earlier. "Her primary fault seems to be indecisiveness."
Rowena managed a thin smile. His words stung, even though she had to admit that her attempts to delay winning made her seem to merit his criticism. Boldly, she pushed her black bishop from one corner of the board to the other.
"Caution is scarcely a fault," Mr. Paxton said. "She appears to have the upper hand, in any event." There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice —a satisfaction that nettled Rowena more than it flattered her.
"Appearances can be deceiving," Mr. Richards retorted, blocking the line between her bishop and the rook it threatened with a pawn.
She could now checkmate him in two moves, a fact of which Mr. Richards seemed unaware. First the knight, then the bishop, and she would have him. But did she want to?
"So you have noticed that too, Mr. Richards? A perceptive man." Rowena suspected Mr. Paxton was referring to her more than the game. "For example, I'd have guessed, based solely on appearances, that you would not be a complacent loser."
So, he was prepared to gloat the moment she won, was he? Unwilling to afford him the satisfaction, Rowena moved her queen instead of the knight. She didn't know what Mr. Paxton's game was, with kisses he refused to acknowledge and barbed comments to a man he scarcely knew, but she refused to play along with it.
"Nor am I a complacent loser," Mr. Richards admitted, moving his king out of danger and threatening her queen with his now-exposed rook. "It's as well that I rarely lose."
"Then I must count myself fortunate to witness such a rare event," responded Mr. Paxton. The smile he sent Rowena was both intimate and possessive, she thought.
Though her heart quickened its beat, she sent him a warning look. She would not be manipulated like some brainess miss, swooning after any man who flirted with her. Especially now that she knew his flirting disguised another purpose.
"How daunting to think your fortunes rely on my actions, Mr. Paxton," she said lightly, holding his eye for a long moment. Then, deliberately, she moved her black bishop back a single space, removing the last threat to Mr. Richards' king.
Instantly, her opponent took advantage of the opening. "Checkmate!" he cried triumphantly, taking her queen with his rook and pinning her king.
Rowena regarded the board in mock surprise. "Why, so it is. Mr. Paxton, did you not wish to play the winner?" She rose smoothly.
The look Mr. Paxton gave her said clearly that he knew exactly what she was about. "I did, though I confess I was hoping it would be you, Miss Riverstone. I have quite enjoyed our previous games . . . all of them." He gazed pointedly at her lips.
Feeling the color surging to her cheeks, Rowena turned hastily away. Clearly, she was not so sophisticated as she had hoped. "Thank you, sir. And thank you for the game, Mr. Richards. I—I need to speak with Lady Hardwyck, but will return to watch your play."
Quickly, she walked away from the two men, not caring at the moment whether they laughed at her or engaged in fisticuffs. She wished only to be away from both of them and their smug maleness.
It occurred to her then to wonder what Mr. Paxton and Nelson had talked about. Nothing very involved, judging by how quickly Mr. Paxton had returned. She went in search of her brother, only to find him deep in a game of baccarat with several other men. For a moment, she tried to catch his eye to remind him of his promise not to gamble, but he refused to look her way. With a sigh, she left to find Pearl.
"What's this I hear about you playing nothing but chess at my card party?" her friend greeted her laughingly, beckoning for Rowena to join Lady Marcus and two other ladies with whom she stood chatting. "I thought you wanted to meet people."
"I started the evening with a few hands of whist," Rowena said defensively, not that Pearl seemed particularly upset. "The chess was primarily Mr. Paxton's idea."
Pearl's glance was rather too perceptive for Rowena's taste. "I see. His way of having you to himself at a crowded party?"
The two Melks sisters tittered, though Rowena was glad to see Lady Marcus did not. "I'd learn to play chess myself, to spend time with that handsome Mr. Paxton," said Miss Augusta Melks.
"I haven't actually played with him tonight," Rowena said hastily, wanting to quash any speculation along those lines. It came too close to the truth for her liking. "Only with Mr. Galloway and Mr. Richards."
Again, Pearl seemed to be watching her closely. "Yes, I noticed. Did you—?"
"I managed to defeat Mr. Galloway,after a hard-fought match, but I fear Mr. Richards bested me." Rowena answered the question her friend had been about to ask with a perfectly straight face, then turned to Lady Marcus. "Do you not play cards, Quinn?"
The diminutive brunette nodded. "I was doing so until a few moments ago, in fact. My husband made certain to teach me the more popular games. Still, it's pleasant to take a break from the competition and just chat for a bit."
Accordingly, the ladies did just that for a few minutes, though Rowena found her attention frequently wandering back to the match ongoing between Mr. Paxton and Mr. Richards. No, she would not
look —not yet.
Her resolve lasted until Lord Marcus and Lord Hardwyck approached to claim their wives for new games just beginning. For a moment she wavered, knowing she would be wiser to accompany the others and distract herself with cards, but then curiosity won out. Excusing herself, she made her way back across the room, suddenly anxious to see how the chess match might be going.
Not until she was only a pace or two from the table could she see well enough to analyze the game, but it was instantly apparent that Mr. Paxton had played his best, unlike herself. In fact, she had scarcely reached the combatants when he made his final move.
"Checkmate," he declared. He accepted his opponent's grudging congratulations, then glanced up at Rowena with a smile that held more than a trace of mockery.
Though she knew the mockery was directed at her rather than Mr. Richards, she frowned. "Surely it is unsporting to gloat, Mr. Paxton?"
"Unsporting or not, he has earned it," responded Mr. Richards before he could answer. "I'd do the same in his position."
The two men stood, and Rowena glanced uncertainly from one to the other, struck first by how much handsomer Mr. Paxton was. If only he shared the other man's sensibilities . . .
"Oh, surely not, sir," she protested. Mr. Richards wasn't the gloating sort—was he? She felt certain he would be above such pettiness.
He smiled at her. "Perhaps not. We'll have to play again sometime, Paxton. I find myself distracted in such a setting."
Did Rowena imagine it, or was Mr. Richards actually flirting with her? It seemed inconceivable —but heady. A great thinker and mover of events, attracted to her? She was suddenly more glad than ever that she had taken Pearl's advice and allowed him to beat her at chess. She returned his smile shyly.
"Would you care for some refreshment, Miss Riverstone?" Mr. Paxton asked then, his voice just a shade too loud. "You are welcome to accompany us, of course, Richards."
"Yes, I believe I will."
Rowena looked uncertainly from one to the other. The animosity she had noted between them last night was more pronounced than ever. Understandable, perhaps, in Mr. Richards' case, as he had just lost at chess. But surely Mr. Paxton—
With a spurt of pleasure, she suddenly realized that she herself was the cause. He was at least a little bit jealous. This, surely, must be how Pearl and other popular ladies felt all the time. Fleeting as it surely must be, Rowena could not help but savor the feeling of pure feminine power.
Turning with a flirtatious smile on her lips, she suddenly froze. There, just behind the two men who so improbably seemed to be vying for her attention stood Lady Mountheath, with a disapproving frown.
It was not the frown which startled Rowena out of her brief moment of triumph, however. It was the fact that Lady Mountheath was wearing the emerald and diamond necklace and earrings that had belonged to Rowena's own mother.
CHAPTER 10
"Miss Riverstone," exclaimed Lady Mountheath, coming forward with a smile as false as it was broad. "When I saw you last night, I assumed Lady Hardwyck had indulged you for the evening, but now it appears her kindness may have gone to your head."
Rowena blinked, tearing her gaze away from the woman's jewels to focus on her face. "I beg your pardon, my lady?"
"Just a kindly word of advice, my dear," the older woman said airily. "A companion who forgets her station may find herself disappointed when she discovers others are all too aware of her proper sphere, much as they may pretend otherwise for the course of an evening." She looked significantly at the two gentlemen flanking Rowena.
Taken aback as she was by the unexpected attack, Rowena realized what must be at the root of it. Lady Mountheath's two daughters had both been without partners for much of the ball last night. It must gall their mother to now see Rowena —who she clearly regarded as their inferior —with two eligible gentlemen dancing attendance on her.
"I fear you are laboring under a misapprehension, my lady," she said as evenly as she could manage. "I am Lady Hardwyck's friend and neighbor, not her paid companion. You need not fear for the social order on my account."
Now it was Lady Mountheath's turn to blink, as she absorbed this new, and clearly unwelcome, information. "My apologies," she finally murmured ungraciously. "I was merely attempting to save you from folly." Her expression implied that Rowena was still on the path to ruin. She started to turn away.
"And I thank you, my lady," Rowena said, quickly adding, "Those . . . are lovely jewels you are wearing tonight. You have exquisite taste."
Her words had the desired effect, for Lady Mountheath turned again to face her, her smile now appearing quite genuine. "Why thank you, my dear! They were a gift from my husband only last week. So extravagant of him, but he knows how well emeralds become me." She patted her lilac turban complacently and Rowena noticed the wispy strands of faded red peeking from beneath it.
"Yes, very flattering," Rowena forced herself to say, hoping for more detail.
"I wouldn't be surprised to learn he had them commissioned specially," Lady Mountheath continued. "He wouldn't tell me from which jeweler he purchased them, doubtless because he knew I'd be cross if I discovered how much he spent on me." She then fixed Rowena with a stern eye. "A just reward for conventional behavior, Miss Riverstone. See that you remember that lesson."
With a sententious nod of her turban, she sashayed off, clearly satisfied that she had prevailed in the encounter.
"Hmph. I'm not surprised her husband wouldn't say where he bought those jewels, considering it was a pawn shop," Rowena muttered to her retreating back. "Extravagant, indeed."
"A pawn shop?" Mr. Paxton asked in obvious amusement. "What makes you think so?"
Rowena flushed, embarrassed that her companions had heard her words. There was nothing for it now but to explain —or be thought intolerably petty. "Those jewels were my mother's. I discovered only last night that my brother sold them to . . . to meet an obligation." She glanced significantly at Mr. Richards, who had the grace to frown.
Mr. Paxton chuckled. "And that dragon flaunts them as proof of her husband's devotion. If she only knew!"
"Please, you won't say anything?" Rowena turned pleading eyes first on Mr. Paxton, then Mr. Richards.
Both gentlemen shook their heads. "You may depend upon my silence," Mr. Richards said gallantly. "I would not wish your brother —or you— embarrassed in any way."
Was he trying to tell her that he would forgive the remainder of Nelson's gaming debts? But of course she could not ask him in front of Mr. Paxton. She didn't wish to lower his opinion of Nelson —or of Mr. Richards —any further than it was already.
"Nor I," Mr. Paxton echoed after a pause. "Now, shall we continue to the buffet tables?"
* * *
Much of Noel's pleasure at beating the arrogant Mr. Richards at chess had been lost when Miss Riverstone had smiled so sweetly at the fellow, and now she was doing it again. Couldn't she see that he was nowhere near so clever as she'd believed? Hadn't her own match against the man taught her that?
In addition, there was something less than candid about the fellow, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Something about the way his eyes failed to reflect his expressions, perhaps. He'd learned over the years to trust his instinctive response to people, and his instincts told him not to trust Mr. Richards.
Or perhaps it was merely jealousy telling him that.
"The company is beginning to thin," he commented. "Between chess and conversation, the evening has passed remarkably quickly." Perhaps Richards would take the hint.
Miss Riverstone set down her empty ratafia glass and glanced about the ballroom. "It certainly has. I hope Pearl won't scold me for playing but one card game, after all of her coaching —and yours, sir."
"Surely you don't allow yourself to be scolded, Miss Riverstone?" Mr. Richards said, raising one brow. "You acquitted yourself quite well against that harridan, Lady Mountheath, earlier."
She dimpled up at him in a way that mad
e Noel grit his teeth. "Thank you, Mr. Richards. Perhaps we both should have quizzed her on the treatment of her servants, for Pearl hinted to me that it is abominable. As for scolding, Pearl is a good friend and means it in the nicest possible way."
"I am reassured. A woman of your intelligence need apologize to no one, you know."
Miss Riverstone pinkened slightly at Richards' intimate tone, and Noel cleared his throat loudly to remind them both of his presence. "I'm glad to see, Miss Riverstone, that you are not so tired this evening as you were last night."
She turned to him and he held her gaze, smiling down into her eyes until she could see what kindled in his own. Her eyes widened and she pinkened further, clearly remembering as vividly as he how last night had ended.
"That's not surprising." Mr. Richards' scornful voice broke into the private moment. "Chess and cards are scarcely so strenuous as dancing— frivolous pursuit that it is."
"Very true," Noel agreed, still not taking his eyes from Miss Riverstone's. Her lashes were remarkably dark and thick, he noticed. Beautifully so. "Dancing was not quite the ordeal you expected, however, was it?"
She parted her lips to answer, and Noel found himself mesmerized by the shape of those lips, the memory of—
"There you are, Rowena!" Lady Hardwyck's voice came from behind him, before a word escaped the exquisite lips he was watching. "I'd like to introduce Mr. Robert Southey."
Miss Riverstone blinked and turned, the spell broken. She greeted Mr. Southey eagerly, but Noel tried not to take offense. Southey was a celebrated essayist, poet and biographer —someone bound to appeal to anyone of Miss Riverstone's intellect and sensibility.
"Charmed, Miss Riverstone," he said, bowing over her hand. Lady Hardwyck then introduced Noel and Mr. Richards, though it was clear at once that the latter was already acquainted with Mr. Southey —and that the two were not on the best of terms.