A Lady's Virtue

by A. S. Fenichel

  “You didn’t answer my question. Is Hallsmith courting you?” As his voice lifted and the fire in his eyes shone in the moonlight, there was no doubt about his anger.

  It should be easy to lie and say yes. It would be the best thing to do. Once he came to his senses, Anthony would be glad she’d released him. “I don’t need your worry or your pity, Tony. You can rest easy in the knowledge that my reputation is secure. Miles is a good companion, and we enjoy each other’s company. He has not made any formal overtures, but I see no reason to discourage him.”

  “But you see reason to discourage me.” If this went on much longer, he would be in a full rant.

  “You are the Earl of Grafton. You should consider that in everything you do. Now that the ball is behind you, you will find your opportunities within the ton will increase. Your businesses will prosper from connections you make. You have to think about that, and not some warped sense of duty because hateful people like to gossip.”

  If she hadn’t heard him breathing, she might have thought herself alone on the veranda. His silence unnerved her to the point where she backed toward the open door. Her heart lodged in her throat, and she was ready to bolt for the foyer where Mrs. Horthorn would be waiting by now.

  “Is my guilt the only possible motivation I might have to court you?” Danger rang in every word.

  Another step, and she was inside the ballroom.

  His shoes sounded against the wooden floor as he followed her in. The only light was a sliver shining through from the foyer. “Could it be that I have developed feelings for you?”

  “No. I must go, my lord. You will see that by the time we meet again, I was right. I appreciate your concern, but anything more is unnecessary and unwanted. I will not ruin you for London nor stop you from your pursuit of happiness abroad.” Sylvia ran for the light without looking back. Her lie had been a kindness to them both. If Hunter could hurt her, then Anthony could destroy her. She couldn’t take that chance.

  Pulling the door open, she masked any expression before she entered the foyer.

  Mrs. Horthorn waited by the door. “There you are. Is everything in order?”

  “Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Shall we go?” Sylvia half expected Anthony to burst from the ballroom demanding she stay and talk to him, but the threshold remained empty, and she hurried out to the waiting carriage.

  Wells handed her up. “A fine ball, Miss Dowder.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad it all turned out well. I doubt I’ll be back at Collington House, Wells. I will tell you goodbye now.”

  He bowed. “Take care, miss.”

  She thought she caught the hint of a smile from the stoic butler as the carriage rolled down Grosvenor Street.

  Chapter 12

  Brooding day and night wouldn’t do. Anthony had to do something to find out why Sylvia preferred Miles Hallsmith to him. What had Miles done or not done that secured the lady’s affections?

  When they kissed, his world contracted, and it was impossible she could counterfeit that kind of longing. Her desire had been so raw and intense, it had crashed through him. There was no way he could have been mistaken.

  Miles had no title, and that seemed important to her. March had made her skittish against titled men, and rightfully so.

  The clock in the hall chimed eight times. Miles was the man with answers, and sitting behind his desk wouldn’t bring Anthony any closer to getting them.

  Tugging on his coat, he called into the hallway, “Wells!”

  Wells appeared, expressionless in the doorway. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Have the carriage brought round. I’ll be going to White’s this evening after all. Please give Cook my apologies and have the staff enjoy whatever she prepared. I’ll dine at the club.” He made a note to devise a plan to win Sylvia, and the first item on his list was Miles Hallsmith.

  While Wells didn’t reply directly, he excused himself and returned a few minutes later. “The carriage will be ready in ten minutes, my lord.”

  “Too long. I’ll catch a hack.” Anthony rushed to the door.

  “But, my lord. You have a perfectly good carriage. Three of them. You must only wait for the driver to get the horses harnessed and bring them around. By the time you find a hack at this hour, you will have wasted twice that time.”

  It was hard to argue with the butler’s stoic logic. “You’re right. I’ll wait for Jonas to bring the carriage.”

  “Very good, my lord.” With a bow, Wells exited.

  By the time the carriage was ready, Anthony was tapping his foot on the front steps and looking like some rabble rather than the earl who owned the house. “White’s, Jonas,” Anthony said while jumping up without the benefit of the step or driver.

  He would get to the bottom of it and gauge Miles’s interest. Even if he could not have Sylvia, he wouldn’t allow her to be hurt by yet another man. Between March and himself, she had been through enough.

  It was the longest drive to St. James of his life. Jonas must have traversed half the city before he finally pulled up to the well-to-do gentleman’s club. Without waiting for the driver, Anthony opened the door and jumped down. The wet street greeted him with a puddle, but he didn’t care. Up the steps and he was admitted. He searched the gaming tables, but no sight of Miles.

  “I hope you don’t intend to join a game, Grafton,” Thomas Wheel called from a cluster of chairs where he was drinking brandy alone.

  Anthony joined him. “No. I’m looking for Miles Hallsmith.”

  Thomas downed his brandy, put the glass on the table and leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees. “You have a quarrel? I thought the two of you were friends.”

  “We are. No. It’s nothing like that.” Maybe he’d lost his mind.

  “You forget, Anthony, everything you think is written on your face just like your sister.”

  Trying to hide his distress, Anthony changed the subject. “Speaking of the ladies, why aren’t you at home with your lovely wife? You rarely come to White’s since your marriage.”

  “Dory is having a lady’s gathering with your sister, Sophia, and Elinor Rollins. Her Grace is in town for a few days without that brood of children, so they are taking advantage.” Thomas was a far better bluffer than Anthony, and while he sounded annoyed, Anthony knew better. Not only did he love that brood, as he called it, he admired the women occupying his wife’s time for the evening.

  “A nice night for you to get out of the house. Why isn’t Daniel with you? I can’t imagine my brother-in-law is at home chatting with those three when they’ve been apart for so long.”

  Thomas made a horrified face. “Perish the thought. They will be on about children and husbands and who knows what else. No. Daniel went to see his mother, as she too is in town this week. Now, what do you want with Hallsmith?”

  The footman came over and offered him a brandy.

  Anthony sipped the drink and closed his eyes. “It’s nothing, Tom. I just wanted to ask him some questions.”

  “It’s about a woman.” Thomas laughed but kept his voice down.

  “How do you know we’re not in discussions about me using some of his brother’s land to graze my cattle?”

  Thomas grinned and sipped his refilled drink. “For a number of reasons. First, Ford Hallsmith is an ass who refuses to let anyone graze his land. I have tried on several occasions, and Miles cannot talk him into it. I think he’d buried gold under the grass and is afraid some cow will unearth his fortune. Second, the look on your face when you entered was far too intense for cattle. And third, while we have been away for a few weeks, I did hear the rumor about you and a certain lady. In fact, she is a lady who I have met on many occasions. Miss Sylvia Dowder, I believe is the lady in question.”

  Sure that his annoyance was plainly written on his face, Anthony rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I for
get you were a spy in the war, Tom. Remind me not to sit with you when I’m trying to keep something to myself.”

  Thomas shrugged. “What I want to know is what does it have to do with Miles Hallsmith.”

  “It really is none of your business what I need to talk to Hallsmith about.”

  “Did I hear my name?” Miles approached from behind Anthony.

  Frowning at Thomas, who obviously saw him walk in, Anthony said, “I was looking for you.”

  “I didn’t touch her, Tony.” Miles held up his hands in self-defense.

  “I know that. I just want to know why she prefers you over me?” It sounded like the question of a petulant child or a jealous lover. Dear God, what had happened to him? A funny, smart slip of a girl had gotten under his skin and invaded his heart. That’s what happened.

  Miles sat down and called for a drink. “I don’t believe she does, though I wouldn’t mind the attention. I like her. She’s funny and not hard to look at.”

  “She told me she preferred you.”

  Puffing up like a pigeon, Miles grinned from ear to ear. “Really? Well, isn’t that a nice change? A lady who would rather be courted by a third son than an earl. Still, it seems to me she was far more interested in me when the conversation was about you.”

  Thomas cleared his throat. “Grafton, what exactly did the lady say?”

  The entire conversation was a nightmare. “She told me that Hallsmith here is a good companion and she liked his company. I think she also said she wouldn’t discourage him, but I was so furious by then my hearing was muffled by the blood flowing through my ears.”

  “What did she say about your desire to court her.” Thomas was too direct even for Anthony when it came to such an embarrassing subject.

  “I don’t know. Something about me being an earl and how I should think about my title and how I was acting out of pity. I can assure you both, I do not pity Sylvia.” Anthony drained his brandy.

  “Maybe she just prefers me.” Miles’s grin was too big, and Anthony’s fist itched to punch him in it.

  “Maybe.” It came out like a growl.

  Thomas grinned, too, and both men were starting to try Anthony’s patience. “It is possible that your title is the issue. We all know what happened when the last man she trusted was elevated in title.”

  Why did it always come back to March? Anthony had been so happy with the way she’d reacted to March’s overtures at the ball. Then his jealousy had turned toward Miles. “Well, I suppose I could give up my title, but it hardly seems practical. Besides it’s a bit prejudicial to hate me because I’m an earl.”

  Miles said, “I like her, but it was obvious to me that her heart lay elsewhere. I assumed it was with you. She seemed extremely interested in the fact that you had given up Mrs. Minot. I’m not sure she believed me. However, her attention was riveted, and she couldn’t take her eyes off you. I was actually sorry I had said anything about you, since before that the flirting had been very pleasant.”

  Anthony ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m a fool who is doomed to get exactly what I asked for.”

  Both Miles and Thomas laughed at that.

  Thomas said, “I suggest you fire the lady then make a fool of yourself. She might be more receptive to your groveling if she is no longer in your employ.”

  “I did fire her once, or maybe she quit me. I can’t remember. We argued, and I asked for another lady.” The same misery plagued him as it had the week he’d lost his Everton lady.

  “You know what I think?” Miles stood. “I think we should go back to your very stately home and get stupidly drunk on your very fine Italian wine.”

  Thomas stood and slapped Miles on the back. “An excellent idea.”

  The idea did have merit. At least if he were drunk, he might be able to think of nothing, instead of his constant thoughts of blue eyes and soft brown hair attached to a woman with a quick wit. “Let’s go. I’ve had a new shipment from my cousin, and it’s the finest bottle yet.”

  Three hours and five bottles later, Thomas stumbled to his carriage and headed home.

  Miles put his glass down on the low table and lay back on the divan. “I have had enough. All this talk of women and wine is fun, but now I’m drunk and there is no woman in sight.”

  Laughing, Anthony had to agree. Yet the only woman he wanted was out of reach both literally and figuratively. “I think I’ve ruined everything, Miles.”

  “I doubt it. You’ll just have to win her over and prove you won’t betray her the way March did. You may be sure you won’t have any competition from me. Well, unless you want some.”

  Head spinning, Anthony didn’t know what the right answer was. A rock the size of his fist settled in his chest. “I want her to be happy. If you are the one who can make that happen, I think I would step aside, Miles. I love her, but if she doesn’t have those feelings for me, then I’ll learn to live without her as long as she’s happy.”

  Miles sat up, but then held his head for a long time opening and closing his eyes. “This is more than an infatuation, isn’t it? You’re serious.”

  Anthony contemplated the dark burgundy liquid rolling around in his glass. “My sister hates wine. Isn’t that funny? We come from a mother whose family is known for their wine, and my sister has never liked it. We had wine on the table at lunch and dinner every day growing up. I was having a taste from the time I was twelve and telling Mother what was good or bad about the wine. Sophie just spit it out saying it was terrible. To me wine is like life, the very nectar that pumps my heart. I usually have a glass every night with my meal. I savor it like it was the fruit of the gods. But if you gave me a choice between wine and Sylvia, I would not hesitate to smash every bottle in my cellar. I would die for her, but I’d like to live for her. I think she is the only woman who can make me happy, and I know she is the only one who I want to try to please every day for the rest of my life.”

  Mouth hanging open, Miles leaned back but kept his feet on the floor. “You, my friend, are in trouble.”

  * * * *

  When the carriage rolled up to the front door of Riverdale, Anthony’s heart pounded with excitement over seeing Sylvia after three long weeks, and he knew Miles was right.

  Flowers bloomed around the front of the picturesque home. It was simple but beautiful, and that, too, reminded him of Sylvia. He sighed and breathed deep the floral scents.

  The front door opened. He prayed that his Sylvia couldn’t wait any longer to see him and had arrived early.

  Mrs. Horthorn and the Riverdale butler, Kravitz, exited, sending Anthony’s hopes into a miserable spiral. If he’d thought about it sooner, he would have known her journey from the country would take her longer.

  He plastered a pleasant smile on his face and jumped from the carriage. “Mrs. Horthorn, how good to see you. You are early.”

  “Indeed. I apologize for my hasty arrival, but I have two wards this week, and it wouldn’t do to be tardy.” She curtsied and smiled in that bland way she had.

  His excitement ramped up again, but he was careful to mask his emotions. It would be exhausting to keep his feelings from his face all week, but he couldn’t have everyone know he was in love the second they saw him. No. That wouldn’t do at all. “Are your charges arriving today, madam?”

  “Yes, my lord. Miss Dowder wrote to tell me she would be a day early to see that everything was in order.” Mrs. Horthorn glanced at Kravitz, who’d stayed a few steps back.

  A million questions rolled through his head, and he stifled each one in turn. Asking for the minutest detail of Sylvia’s arrival would certainly alert her chaperon to his emotional state. Anthony turned to his butler instead. “And, Kravitz, will the lady find everything is in order?”

  “I sincerely hope so, my lord. We have prepared the house, garden, an area by the lake and several other items just as Miss Dowder
requested in her letters. In my humble opinion, we are ready for your party to arrive.” Kravitz bowed then pushed his shock of brown hair into place. His impassive expression never wavered.

  Oh, what Anthony wouldn’t give to be able to show so little emotion. “Very well.” He offered Mrs. Horthorn his arm. “Shall we tour the garden while we wait for the ladies Dowder?”

  Taking his arm, she blushed. Finally, someone besides him showed something in this stoic country. “How many will be in the party, my lord?”

  They walked around the house and left Anthony’s luggage to the staff. “This will be a small group. I hope the week will be fun but a relaxing break from London. There will be only nine of us: your two charges, my sister, her husband, Miles Hallsmith, Lord Stansfield, and I assume, the good mother of the Dowder sisters.”

  “Oh no, my lord. Mrs. Dowder will not be attending. Something keeps her at their country estate. That is why I was called into action.”

  Joyous news! Sylvia would not have to deal with Felicia during their relaxing week. “The party shall miss her, but we will soldier on.”

  Mrs. Horthorn giggled. “Indeed.”

  The gardens were on the wild side for English taste, but the meandering path, overgrown grasses, and clusters of wildflowers suited Anthony. “If I may ask, what brought you to the Everton Domestic Society, madam?”

  “Boredom.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She nodded then stopped to admire a yellow daisy. “I was bored. My husband had died a few years earlier and left me a pile of money. I love to sew and knit, but really that’s not enough to make a life of. Since I’m not titled, the invitations dwindled and I was left sitting home alone every evening. I know I’m not young, but it was terribly tiresome.”

  “I can see how that might be so.” He’d never thought about what widows do with their time. Frankly, he had no idea what young women did on the day to day.

  “One morning while breaking my fast, I read an advertisement in the newspaper for the Everton Domestic Society. It said they help families in need, and when necessary a dowager chaperon would be provided. I got to wondering about it and paid Lady Jane a call. She hired me on the spot. That was two and a half years ago, and I’m so happy I joined Everton’s.”