Code of Honor

by Andrea Pickens

  Justin had the grace to color. He poked for a moment at the food left on his plate. "Nonetheless, the Icy Earl is a man to be avoided. Promise me that you will have no further conversation with him."

  Alex folded the paper and put it aside. "You have given me no real reason to act in such a silly manner. Besides, it would be extremely difficult — unless you expect me to spend an entire day in silence. And it would hardly polite, I might also add, seeing as he has kindly offered to drive me to Kew Gardens to see the newly arrived specimen plantings."

  The fist came down with a thud that rattled the china. "Aunt Aurelia!" This time Justin was nearly shouting.

  Aurelia laid her reading material on the table as well. "Are you two children having a spat?" she inquired over her spectacles.

  Justin ran his hand through his hair. "Has no one in this family any sense but me? Surely you cannot condone Alex's association with a known rake and murder..."

  Alex's quelling look cut off the last word.

  Lady Beckworth surveyed the agitated faces of her niece and nephew. "Justin, Alex is more than of an age to decide for herself what acquaintances she wishes to make. A ride in an open carriage with a gentleman's tiger accompanying them is perfectly acceptable. And Lord Branford is received by even the highest sticklers of Society. "

  She paused. "But Alex, your brother's concerns are quite legitimate. You must admit you have little experience with the working of Society here in Town. He is right to caution you to have a care. A reputation is not like a dress — once torn is it almost impossible to mend."

  Both of them shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Lady Beckworth picked up her book. "If you will excuse me, I am eager to finish a certain section of my translation before evening. And please don't forget we are promised to the Killington's rout tonight."

  She gathered her things and left the breakfast room, leaving the two young people with much food for thought.

  It was an even greater crush than the night before. Lady Killington's reputation as a splendid hostess ensured that her invitations would not be overlooked by those privilege enough to receive one. The sounds of violins and cellos floated through the immense ballroom, the flickering of hundreds of candles winked off the shimmering silks and jewels, creating a gallimaufry of color. Masses of exotic flowers added a special touch, their subtle fragrance wafting through the soft trill of laughter and animated conversation.

  Alex tugged at a flounce on her sleeve to mask her discomfort. Why did she always feel so deucedly awkward at such evenings? Why couldn't she seem to master the art of dazzling smiles and fluttering eyelashes that other young ladies seemed to find so effortless. She sighed. It was simply no use. And why was she even thinking about it? Normally such frivolous thoughts about her demeanor or her appearance never even occurred to her. She sighed again. At least in such a crowd there should be a few members of the Botanical Society present with whom to converse so the evening wouldn't be a complete waste.

  "Miss Chilton."

  There was no mistaking the rich baritone, though it was spoken quite softly. She turned to face a pair of glittering sapphire eyes.

  "Good evening, my lord." She smiled, quite effortlessly because it was real. "Quite a crush tonight, is it not?"

  Branford raised an eyebrow. "Come, Miss Chilton. You disappoint me. Surely you do not make a habit of uttering the usual polite platitudes." His face was deadpan, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

  "What would you prefer, sir? That I recite the phylum, genus and species of that... " she glanced quickly around "... rare orchid over between the delphiniums?"

  "Which you no doubt know."

  "Or perhaps you would prefer something more practical, as in if you move your right elbow a fraction of an inch you will send Lady Killington's no doubt priceless crystal vase to its demise."

  Branford straightened with a start, narrowing averting disaster. How the devil hadn't he noticed the arrangement of flowers? He wasn't usually so clumsy.

  Alex struggled without success to suppress a grin.

  "Impudent chit," he murmured as he took her elbow and guided her to the dance floor.

  "I should like to know more about your work, Miss Chilton. Tell me about the manuscript you are working on," said Branford as they began to move to the lilting melody. Once again, he couldn't help but notice how in tune she was with his movements, how she matched his steps with an effortless grace.

  She looked up at him warily, as if searching his face for some hint of mockery. He merely cocked his head expectantly but said nothing further.

  "It is not a manuscript," she answered slowly. "Rather it is a series of watercolors on the wildflowers of — shire."

  "You are an artist, then?"

  She smiled at the thought. "Indeed not. I create no heroic scenes from history like Fragonard nor capture the likenesses of important people like Gainsborough. I merely record, as faithfully as I can, the nuance of detail and color in such everyday things as flowers. To me, the simple elements of the natural world have an inherent beauty as special as any face..." She stopped abruptly, as if afraid she had revealed too much of her feelings.

  He didn't reply, but regarded her thoughtfully.

  When the music had finished, Alex glanced around the crowded room. "Oh, I do so hope Mr. Simpson and Mr. Hepplewith are in attendance tonight. I wanted to ask them a question concerning a certain lily." She trailed off as she continued to search the crowd.

  Branford's height offered him a better vantage point. ""I believe Mr. Simpson is over there." He guided her through the crush towards a large potted palm tree near the entrance to the card room. "He is with an elderly, rotund gentleman who appears to be wearing a rather outdated wig."

  Alex smiled. "That is Mr. Hepplewith. He is quite interesting despite his odd appearance. I think you would like him, sir."

  Before he could answer, she hurried ahead through the last few couples in the way. "Good evening, gentlemen. How nice to see you here. At least I shall be assured of some intelligent conversation for the evening."

  Behind her, Branford cleared his throat.

  "Oh!" Alex's hand flew to her mouth. "Of course, I didn't mean..."

  Mr. Simpson stared wide eyed, first at her, then at the earl, mesmerized as if waiting for a snake to strike its helpless victim.

  Branford threw back his head and let out a hearty laugh. "I shall endeavor not to bore you excessively during the next waltz."

  Alex managed a weak smile. "You are teasing me, Lord Branford."

  "Which you richly deserve."

  "Is this the author of the descriptions of Riverton, then?" inquired Mr. Hepplewith in a reedy voice. He exhibited none of the inhibitions of his colleague regarding the earl. "You have promise, young fellow. if you will apply yourself to the subject, we may make a botanist of you yet."

  Alex's smiled broadened. "Mr. Hepplewith is president of The Botanical Society. Mr. Hepplewith, this is indeed Lord Branford."

  The two men bowed politely.

  "Mr. Simpson you already know." Branford nodded in the man's direction, noting the fellow no longer jumped at his glance.

  "Now, my lord. I have a question concerning the symmetry of the East gardens at Riverton.," began Mr. Hepplewith. "Mr. Simpson is under the impression..." He paused to sample a lobster canapé and take a glass of champagne from a passing footman.

  "Alex!" A tall young man perhaps a few years older than she, approached. He was dressed fashionably enough, but the cut and material of his evening clothes clearly bespoke his lack of title or plump pockets. His face was not nearly so plain as his dress. He had well-cut, regular features and expressive brown eyes, now alight at the sight of his friend. The mouth, parted in a warm smile, was full , yet masculine, hinting at a strength of character, perhaps even stubbornness. Dark brown hair fell in curls that many a gentleman would have spent hours in front of the mirror to achieve.

  "Hello, Charles."

  Branford noted that he held the hand that
Alex extended towards him a trifle longer than was necessary. He also noted that Alex's smile was quite radiant when she was truly happy to see someone. For some reason, he felt a flash of irritation which he quenched with a long swallow of champagne.

  "A country set is forming. I pray that you will allow me the honor?" asked Charles Duckleigh.

  "Will you excuse me." It was a statement rather than a question for she was already moving towards the center of the room with her partner.

  Branford's lips compressed. Damn the chit, he thought, abandoning him to the Botanical Society — and just who was the pup to be on a first name basis with her?

  "Ah, as I was saying Lord Branford..."

  The earl's manners made him stifle the urge to turn on his heel. But though he only intended to listen with half an ear, he found himself drawn into the conversation. It was novel to be spoken to as a fellow enthusiast rather than... murderer, or worse. Even Mr. Simpson seemed to lose the wary look on his face as he became animated in defense of his theory on how to arrange certain shrubs to ensure maximum bloom. And, in fact, the men were quite interesting.

  As soon as Alex and her friend were out of earshot of the other men Duckleigh leaned towards her. "Alex, I had heard rumors that he was bothering you..." He eyes strayed meaningfully in the direction of the earl's broad back.

  "He is not bothering me in the least," she answered tartly.

  The young man looked perplexed for a moment, then his face brightened. "Of course. You are much too smart to fall prey to his advances. Well, I am heartily glad to hear you have sent him about his business."

  The steps of the dance took them apart for a bit. When they came together again, Alex adroitly changed the subject of discussion to the last lecture of The Botanical Society. That brought a light to Duckleigh's eyes and all mention of the Earl of Branford was forgotten.

  When Alex returned, her face was slightly flushed from the exertion of the dance, a rosy glow that made her features appear alive and vibrant. Her eyes flashed with amusement at some remark Duckleigh had just whispered close to her ear.

  Branford put down his glass and excused himself from the others. "I hope you are not too tired to grant me my waltz." He drew her hand onto his arm without waiting for a reply. "I believe the music is already starting."

  Charles regarded him with narrowed eyes but stepped aside without a word.

  Branford and Alex were also silent for the first few measures of the dance.

  "Another member of your Society." he asked abruptly?

  "If you mean Charles, he is a cousin of Lord Halford and serves as his secretary. And yes, he is a member, an enthusiastic one. He is very interested in herbs."

  "Among other things," said Branford under his breath. "Looks like a dull dog," he remarked out loud.

  Alex cocked her head to one side. "To a man of your interests, perhaps."

  "And just what do you mean by that?"

  Alex looked at him unwaveringly. "It is well known that you are a true Corinthian, sir — an expert whip, a superb rider and a deadly shot..."

  "Have a care Miss Chilton," he said softly. "Few men would dare to bait me thus."

  Alex's eyes widened in surprise, then took on a look of acute embarrassment. "My lord," she faltered, "I meant no... that is... " She let out a sigh. "Oh, it must be very unpleasant to be the subject of rumors and innuendo, is it not?"

  It was Branford's turn to look surprised. It was not the response he had expected. But then again, he was quickly learning that with Miss Chilton one rarely knew what to expect.

  "Just which of the rumors you have heard?"

  "Well, there are the two duels."

  "Ah yes, the duels. Pray, tell me how do they go at the moment?" There was an edge to his voice. "Do I simply put a period to some poor fellow's existence because I wish to continue dallying with his wife, or has it gotten more interesting? Perhaps he has actually found me between the sheets with his bride and demands immediate satisfaction, " he said in a bitter tone. "Forgive me, Miss Chilton, if I shock you."

  "Actually, as the story goes, it is the wife who demands satisfaction. Before she allows you to leave her bed to deal with the enraged husband."

  Branford struggled to keep a straight face. "You should be spanked, young lady. How the devil do you have any notion of..."

  "Because my brother credits me with enough sense to speak to me as he would to one of his male acquaintances."

  "Then he should be spanked too."

  "Yes, well he actually implied that himself just this morning."

  "For what reason?"

  "I told him in no uncertain terms that I was perfectly capable of deciding who I may dance and converse with."

  The humor immediately drained from Branford's face and Alex felt his arm stiffen around her waist. There was a perceptible pause before he spoke again. "What else have you heard?"

  "Everything, I imagine." She met his gazes squarely and there was no question that he saw a welling of sympathy in the depths of her eyes.

  "Then you are either very brave or very foolish," he said coldly.

  Alex frowned. "I think I am neither, sir."

  Damn the chit. She was truly keeping him off balance and it was a strange feeling.

  "Give you no countenance to rumors?"

  She didn't answer for a moment. "Growing up, I would hear things that were... twisted versions of the truth. My father was the subject of much speculation due to his inquiries into the natural world. In Cornwall he was rumored to have been a witch due to his nocturnal ramblings and collecting of odd plants and specimens. Needless to say, we were soon forced to leave the area. So I prefer to judge for myself."

  A ghost of a smile reappeared on Branford's face. "The scientist in you, Miss Chilton. Empirical knowledge only." He steered her back towards the potted palm. "I believe your Society eagerly awaits your return — a safe haven. I hope I have not reneged on my promise not to bore you." He bowed slightly. "Good evening."

  "My lord..."

  But he had already turned and disappeared in the crowd.

  Branford wandered through the card room and helped himself to a glass of brandy. He needed something stronger than champagne to ease the knot deep inside. He swore to himself as he threw back the last of the spirits. Usually he had his emotions under tight rein. What has happened tonight to cause him to feel so on edge? It was disconcerting to be so..."

  "My lord. I would like to have a word with you, if you please."

  The voice was at his shoulder, trying hard to sound both deep and self-assured.

  The earl turned to face a young man not quite his own height. The face was only vaguely familiar but the flashing color and intensity of the eyes were all too recognizable.

  "Who the devil are you," muttered Branford, though he knew full well what the answer was going to be.

  "We were introduced last night. I am Justin Chilton, sir. Miss Alexandra Chilton's brother. I wish to have a word with you." He nodded towards the hallway. "The library is empty."

  When the door was firmly closed, Justin took a deep breath, his chin coming up in precisely the same manner as his sister's when she felt challenged.

  "Sir. I must ask you to refrain from dancing with my sister again. In fact, I would prefer that you refrain from any further contact whatsoever."

  Branford regarded him with an icy stare that usually set men to quaking in their boots. The young man's jaw clenched, but he refused to blink.

  "Your sister is of an age to make her own decisions. She knows what she is about."

  "She does not know what she is about here in Town. She knows her books and her plants, and her eccentric friends at the Botanical Society, not the rules and the... the games that Society and the Ton likes to amuse themselves with. Therefore I must insist that you cease your attentions."

  The earl's voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "Just what are you implying, Mr. Chilton?"

  Justin took a deep breath, his brows knitted together. "I have
very little experience in this sort of thing," he said honestly. "No doubt I shall say it badly." He took another breath. "I mean no disrespect to you, sir. How you choose to... conduct your affairs is not for me to comment on. It is my sister I am concerned about. Despite her age and her ideas on the world she has very little experience with...well, the opposite sex. I do not wish to see her hurt. I thought that if I spoke to you, man to man, you might agree to seek... what you wish with someone who understands how things are done here."