“As I told you, I will tell you more as the week progresses. We cannot speak further this evening. You must find a way to speak with me on the morrow. We cannot be overheard. And you mustn’t tell a soul. Especially not your friend, Lady Crossley. You wouldn’t want word to spread, would you?”
Vicky was torn between fear and suspicion. She was fairly certain the strange man was playing it a trifle too brown. But there was a slim chance he wasn’t full of feathers. Could she take that risk if there truly was a threat to her family? She doubted waiting at least a day or two before acting would make a difference. Vicky knew full well no one in her family could be accused of disloyalty to His Majesty.
“Very well, my lord, I will do my best. But I’m still quite certain that you must be mistaken.”
“I’m not, my lady. I’ll bid you goodnight.”
Vicky’s chin almost dropped open when he walked away just like that. It was the strangest thing she’d ever experienced. She longed to turn to someone for help, but she knew she’d have to keep this to herself. For someone with four sisters and a best friend, she wasn’t familiar with keeping something a total secret. She wondered if the knowledge would eat her alive.
This house party was getting more and more complicated.
Vicky felt a frisson shiver up her spine and quickly scanned the room. Sure enough, Ashford Northcott was watching her. He didn’t even bother to hide it this time. He often shifted his gaze away when hers caught him looking at her, but not this time. His eyebrows lifted as if in question. Vicky felt as though her face had frozen. She wished anew that she had the skill of hiding her emotions like her older sisters had developed, but it wasn’t normally in her sunny disposition to hide anything. She dragged her gaze from its entanglement with Ashford Northcott and turned away with the intention of distracting herself.
Miss Smythe was getting settled at the pianoforte, so Vicky stepped forward, ostensibly to get a better vantage point to best enjoy the performance.
Chapter Nine
Ashford watched Vicky’s fidgets throughout the evening. After Miss Smythe’s performance, everyone joined in singing for a time, and then tables were set up for a few rounds of cards. He was surprised when Vicky opted to watch rather than participate. From what he remembered of her, she had always loved to play whatever games were available. But tonight, she seemed unable to settle. It adversely affected his concentration, so it was a good thing Lady Crossley had declared any games were merely for amusement and no gambling was to take place under her roof.
He wanted to take Lady Vigilia aside and question her, but Ash knew it would not be seemly. He hoped he would be able to steal a few minutes with her the next day, as he was becoming concerned. When she dropped the bag of pointers his table was to use and then nearly burst into tears, it took all his concentration not to pull her into his arms to offer the comfort she so clearly needed. The countess did it for him, and Ash watched helplessly as she soon had Vicky laughing instead of crying. The moment passed almost unnoticed by anyone else, but it was very obvious to Ashford that something wasn’t right. And it hadn’t been since his arrival.
In a certain way, it hadn’t been right since Vigilia’s arrival in Town. She hadn’t been her usual warm, inviting self. At least, not toward him. He wondered what had happened to her during her time in mourning. He hadn’t thought she was so close to her grandmother that her grief would affect her interactions with others, but it was evident that something had altered in their interactions. He had even begun to think it was only specifically in connection with him but watching her this evening, it was clear something was definitely off with the young woman.
Ash didn’t want to be paranoid or unreasonably self-centered, but he suspected her behaviour tonight had something to do with Bertram’s efforts to undermine him. He had caught her very brief, wild expression while Bertram was speaking with her. She had look terrified for the briefest moment before she collected herself, but it had taken everything he had not to rush over to her side. While he had his suspicions about the young woman’s association with his enemy, he couldn’t watch any woman suffering and not feel inclined to intervene.
In this case, though, it might do her more harm than good if he were to try to do anything for her. Drawing attention to her could jeopardize them both. He had no desire to find himself in a forced relationship with anyone, not even someone as lovely as Lady Vigilia.
But when she again dropped something, this time while she was shuffling the deck of cards in place of Lady Mead at the next table, Ashford was ready to take his chances and intervene with the girl. Before he could do anything foolish, though, Lady Crossley was there again with her arm around Vicky’s back, guiding her from the room. A few minutes later, the countess returned alone and announced that Lady Vigilia was feeling the effects of too much travel and would rejoin the group refreshed after a good night’s sleep.
That seemed to be the signal to some of the others to take to their beds. Ashford stifled his amusement as all the young ladies hurried to take their leave. It appeared as though no one had wanted to be the first to admit they were overtired from their journeys, but once the way had been cleared, they all wanted to follow suit. The room emptied quickly of all the female members of the party, and Ash once again found himself with only the gentlemen for company. Even they began to drift away, more slowly taking their leave, as though a little reluctant to do so but deciding to catch up on their rest.
By Town hours it was very early, but even Ashford thought longingly of his bed until it was just he and Crossley left in the room.
“That was certainly interesting,” the earl commented drily.
“I beg your pardon, my lord?”
“I’ve known Vigilia for five years. I know that’s not a very long time in some ways, but seeing as my wife is best friends with her, it’s longer than you would think. She has been living with us for a couple of months, adding to what I thought I knew of her. I have never seen her clumsy. In fact, it is one thing everyone remarks upon about all the Sherton sisters. They are the most graceful young ladies you could imagine. For her to drop things twice in one evening is remarkable, but to add in the fact that she nearly burst out crying when it happened makes me very concerned.”
“I am not as experienced with females as you are, not having sisters of my own, but I have been made to understand that they can be more emotional at certain times.”
Crossley laughed. “That might be an understatement, Northcott, under usual circumstances, but I have never observed Vicky to be like that. It actually annoys my wife on occasion. She says it’s because Vicky was the middle child in those five girls. But she never seems to be disturbed by anything.”
“Do you think she’s ill?”
“Not in the least. I think it’s Bertram. I don’t know what that lout thinks he’s doing dropping in uninvited to my wife’s house party, but I really ought to send him on his way with a swift kick to his rear for his troubles.”
“Why don’t you then?”
The earl glanced at him speculatively. “With your history with the man, I would think you’d be as curious as me or perhaps even more so to know why he would decide to attend our little party without a by your leave.”
“Well, of course I want to know what the bounder is up to.”
“We’ll never know if I don’t let him stay,” Crossley pointed out. There was a pause as both gentlemen thought about all the ramifications. “But I cannot allow him to upset the lady. And she was clearly upset about something. I ought to question her, but that thought gives me chills, I’m man enough to admit.”
Ash laughed over the earl’s wording. “Could your wife question the lady?”
Crossley stared at him for a moment before grinning. “I’m almost certain she has or will. But whether or not she will reveal what she finds out is another matter all together. As you mentioned, you aren’t so familiar with women. I can assure you, while I had thought I was very familiar with them, finding my
self wed to a woman with a childhood best friend is telling me that I knew nothing. The bond between them is remarkable. I would almost be jealous if not for the fact that they are generally very conscious not to make me feel excluded.” He stopped and shook his head. “I never would have pictured myself envying another’s relationship, but there is definitely something to be said for the loyalty those two exhibit for one another. And that is why I cannot say for sure if my lady will tell me what she finds out.”
Ash nodded, even though he barely understood what the other man was saying. He would find out what he could for himself. Past experience had already taught him that nobles often lived by their own strange set of rules. He usually understood them, having grown up the son of an earl himself, but that didn’t mean he intended to live by them. Not that he wanted to make Vigilia uncomfortable, but he hadn’t achieved the success he had in life by shying away from uncomfortable situations. Complicated seemed to be his specialty. But he needn’t tell the earl that.
Accepting the glass of brandy the earl was handing to him, Ash admired the other man’s self assurance. He wished his own brother could be as comfortable in his own position. He supposed the difference could be excused as the fact that Crossley had already inherited whereas Robert was still waiting for his title. It must be the most awkward and awful position to be in, awaiting your father’s death. As the fourth of five sons, Ashford needn’t worry about that. He had known since childhood that he would have to make his own way in the world. And he had started on that when he was little more than a boy.
One of the many things he had learned when he was very young was how to cope with his impatience. This was one of those times when that skill would come in very useful.
“Thank you, my lord, for your hospitality and your insights.”
Crossley snorted. “That was polite nonsense, Northcott. I haven’t given you any insights.”
“Well, at the very least you let me know what not to expect.” Ash laughed along with the earl. “And knowing that your wife and Lady Vigilia are to be considered a package of sorts is helpful as well.” He tossed back the last drops in his cup before placing it on a nearby table. “I think it’s time for me to follow everyone else’s example and seek my bed.”
“I will trust you not to allow your issues with Bertram to hurt my wife or her feelings. She has worked hard to make this gathering a success. She is my priority, always. Not you or this ridiculous feud.”
Ashford chose to ignore the veiled insult. The statement certainly didn’t need to be made. Ash would never allow a woman to be hurt by the ridiculous situation with Bertram. With a nod and without a word, Ash turned on his heel and left the room.
As he walked away he remembered the brief discussion he had had with the earl the evening before. When Ash had explained in more detail his history with Bertram, Crossley had been less than sympathetic to either the viscount or Ashford.
“You must have bungled the business Northcott. There’s no call for the man to object to his father’s selling one of their properties.”
At the time Ashford had laughed and agreed. You would think a grown man would understand that it was merely business that had been behind the transaction. Ash certainly hadn’t had anything personal against Bertram at the time. Now on the other hand, if the bounder was dabbling in treasonous activities that was another matter altogether.
Crossley, of course, had rejected that idea as well.
“The man’s a viscount,” he had said. “It’s bred into him from the cradle to support the Crown. Surely you jest.”
Ashford really should have ended Bertram years ago. But he had thought he could manage the situation without needing to be overly forceful with the man. He had allowed his judgment to be clouded by sympathy. That had been a mistake. And now, it was going to be messier than necessary. Ash shook his head. It had been foolish to allow the remnants of the loyalties that had been bred into him as a boy to colour his thoughts as a man. Bertram didn’t deserve his loyalty. It didn’t matter that he carried a title. He might be a nobleman, but he was far from noble. And if Crossley was blinded by considering the bounder to be his equal, then Ash wouldn’t be able to count on him for assistance.
But that was fine, Ash reminded himself. He had realized years ago that he was the only one he could truly rely upon. And Bertram really wasn’t that much of a challenge. He would have the matter sorted before long. It would just be harder for the other man in the end if he had, in fact, involved a lady in their conflict.
~~~
Vicky felt as though her entire body were consumed with her blushes. How could she have made such a cake of herself in front of everyone? Her mother would rightly be mortified were she to hear of it. But Vicky had never learned to control her feelings or emotions as well as her older sisters had. And really, given the content of the message Lord Bertram had for her, she didn’t think even they would have been able to contain their reactions. How was she supposed to act when someone was uttering threats against her family?
When Georgia had tried to talk to her about it, Vicky hadn’t known what to do. She longed to get her best friend’s thoughts on the matter, but she didn’t want to involve Crossley, despite what she had told Lord Bertram about it being better to speak to the earl. The expression on Georgia’s face let Vicky know she didn’t believe her when she claimed she was just fatigued. But much to Vicky’s surprise, George hadn’t pursued the matter overly. She supposed having a houseful of company would do that to a woman. But Vicky was absolutely certain she wouldn’t be able to get away with it for long. Surely, first thing in the morning, Georgia would be knocking on her door demanding answers. She only hoped she had some to give.
At least her maid wasn’t a chatterbox, nor one to pry. Vicky was almost able to relax as the servant ran the brush rhythmically through her hair. Normally, Vicky didn’t have the patience to sit through the one hundred strokes her maid deemed necessary to maintain the health of her hair, but that night she welcomed the mesmerizing relaxation of it. She shouldn’t have been surprised when a frown gathered on her maid’s face.
“Is all right with you, m’lady?”
Vicky sighed and then laughed a little. “Why do you ask?”
“You never sit still this long, m’lady. I don’t mean to be too forward, but it’s not like you to tolerate my brushing so meek like.”
Vicky almost nodded but, mindful of the brush wielding maid, she stopped herself. “I suspected it might be that which made you ask. I find the brush is so relaxing tonight that I am nearly asleep. It is exactly what I needed after the past few days of travelling and then preparing for the guests’ arrival. Before long, I’ll be asleep right here where I sit.”
“Well, if you can hold out a little longer, m’lady, I’m nearly to one hundred. And then I’ll help you up into the bed.”
“Thank you, Dolly,” Vicky answered as meekly as the maid had said she was. She hadn’t been exaggerating with the servant, she felt as though she were about to topple off the stool. She hadn’t thought she was so tired, but it was blessedly overriding even the intensity of her shame and embarrassment from the evening. Tomorrow was a fresh new day. She would live through the awkwardness. And perhaps, she thought, trying to bolster her own lagging spirits, no one even noticed that I was being a dolt.
That was a senseless but comforting thought that lulled her swiftly into a deep sleep after Dolly steadied her up the stairs into the high bed. Vicky knew nothing else for many hours.
When her eyes opened to the bright light streaming into the airy bedchamber she had been assigned, Vicky was happy to embrace the new day, even though all the events of the previous one flooded into her consciousness.
Her usual optimistic disposition came to her rescue, and she was almost able to laugh about her clumsiness the night before. With a mental shrug, she consoled herself that not all the gentlemen had witnessed her lack of dignity. She had no romantic interest in Lord Bertram nor Mr. Northcott, and Lord Crossley wa
s already married so he didn’t count, so it didn’t even matter if they had seen her disarray the night before.
With a nod at her reflection as Dolly stepped back from arranging her hair, Vicky acknowledged that she would do. Her features were regular and her colouring was exactly the blonde hair and blue eyes that was deemed to be most acceptable. She was no longer overly pale nor blushing wildly. And with her hair expertly arranged and her fashionable attire, no one should be finding any fault with her appearance. Now, if she could manage to keep her composure strictly under control she would have nothing to complain about that day.
Except that Lord Bertram had promised to tell her what he was on about the night before.
After a solid night’s sleep, Vicky was a little less muddled on the subject. She should have dismissed the man directly. She knew full well that every single member of her family was fully loyal to their monarch, even if they were mostly all female. There was nothing traitorous that could be accused of any member of the Sherton household. While she was still getting to know her brothers-in-law, their allegiance to the throne was not in the least bit questionable. She should have told Lord Bertram that he was a fool. She wondered how to word that in a less offensive matter. The thought made her grin.
She was still smiling when she reached the breakfast room and found she was the only female present. Her steps hesitated at the threshold but, lifting her chin, Vicky wouldn’t allow herself to be intimidated away from breaking her fast. She only hoped her stomach didn’t growl loudly and inform the assembled gentlemen just how indelicate she really was.
When the few gentlemen in the room stood upon her entrance, though, Vicky knew the fiery blush that heated her cheeks was surely revealing her discomfort, but she tried to ignore the sensation as a footman hurried to help her fill her plate. She wasn’t even sure what had made it onto her plate before she quickly sat on the chair the young man was holding out for her.
A Gentleman to Avoid: Sweet Regency Romance (Sherton Sisters Book 3) Page 8