The Saint of St. Giles

by Millard, Nadine

  So why would someone as safe and dutiful as the Duke of Barnbury frequent it so often?

  Alison turned to study the duke once more, and her breath caught when she realised he was already studying her.

  Well, she wasn’t going to smile at the blighter again, just for him to scowl at her.

  Though her heart hammered in response to whatever stormy emotion was darkening his navy eyes, she turned her head and ignored him.

  “Lord Fulham, I’m sure my brother-in-law and sister would be happy to have you join us in the Montvale box at the theatre this evening.”

  It was bold.

  Probably scandalous in this world of virtue and judgment.

  But she wanted to spend the evening with a man who wanted her company, instead of thinking about a man who could barely tolerate it.

  Lord Fulham’s smile was triumphant.

  “I would be honoured. Thank you, Miss Langton.”

  He took his leave and almost immediately, his place was filled by yet another gentleman, with yet another bouquet of flowers.

  Alison tried not to find the entire thing tedious.

  She risked a glance once more at Lord Barnbury.

  He had left. And hadn’t said goodbye. Hadn’t even said hello, for that matter.

  Alison ignored the dip of disappointment in her stomach and instead settled in to listen to whatever nonsense she was about to be privy to.

  Chapter Ten

  What the bloody hell was he doing here?

  Nic berated himself, not for the first time, as he watched the hordes of people in and around the entrance of the theatre.

  As with most ton events, he didn’t particularly like or dislike them. He attended. He was cordial. He spent time with whichever of his friends and acquaintances were there, and then he went home feeling no worse and no better.

  This evening, however, he was on edge.

  He watched everyone closely, searching against his will for a glimpse of golden hair, or impossibly bright blue eyes, or a smile that looked like pure devilment.

  Earlier, he’d heard Alison Langton invite that cretin Fulham to join her at the theatre.

  She obviously hadn’t checked with Rob or Abby if this would be acceptable, because there was no way in Hell Rob would let someone like Fulham near Alison.

  It was none of Nic’s business, of course. Yet here he found himself, at the opening night of a play he had no interest in, standing like a damned watchdog waiting to protect a lady who he wasn’t even sure he particularly liked.

  If his friends could see him now, or at least see the emotions roiling inside him that he was so careful to keep hidden below the surface, he’d never live it down.

  Going to Rob’s house that afternoon had been a mistake.

  Coming here this evening was a mistake.

  His famous self-control was slipping by the day, and he had no idea what to do about it.

  He’d managed to spend an entire week away from Alison Langton and all the temptation she presented. Why did his resolve have to crack today of all days, so he felt compelled to act as a chaperone for the girl?

  The worst part was that he’d rushed over here, hell-bent on keeping an eye on Alison and Fulham, and hadn’t given a thought as to who he would sit with or what he would do.

  Though he put little store in the opinion of the beau monde, even he knew that sitting alone in his box would be – odd.

  He would, of course, be welcome to sit in Robert’s box, but that meant sitting between Rob and Abby, and Fulham and Alison.

  That didn’t exactly appeal, either.

  Although he would be close enough to wring Fulham’s neck if he acted anything other than the perfect gentleman.

  Damn it. This was a mistake.

  Nic was just admitting defeat to himself and turning to slip quietly away, when he heard a familiar voice.

  “Crack a smile, Saint Nic, or a dog might mistake you for one of these statues and pi– oof.”

  Nic turned around in time to see Lady Dashford give her husband a quick elbow to the ribs, stopping his scandalous statement before he could finish it.

  Nic smiled his first real smile in days as he stepped forward to kiss Amelia’s cheek and shake Simon’s hand.

  “The wanderers return.” He grinned, his eyes taking in one of his oldest friends, not quite believing the change in him.

  Simon looked as he ever did, jet-black hair, brown, almost black eyes. But his countenance was different.

  No longer dissolute and displeased with everything he saw, no longer dangerous and debauched.

  The former Devil of Dashford looked – content. That was it. Truly happy.

  And for the first time in a long time, Nic felt a knife of jealousy stab at him.

  He was happy for his friend, of course. The devil and his bluestocking bride belonged together. They were perfect for each other.

  And Nic was as pleased for Simon as he had been for James when he’d married Senna, and Rob when he’d married Abby.

  But never before had he felt the ugliness of jealousy mar his happiness.

  So, why now?

  “Why are you out here alone?” Simon asked.

  Nic would rather walk over hot coals than admit he’d been watching for the arrival of Miss Langton.

  “I was waiting to hear about all of your wonderful adventures, of course,” he said equably.

  Simon’s frown said the earl knew he was lying, but just as Nic had hoped, the mention of the couple’s travels through Europe was enough to set the history loving Amelia off, and she launched into a detailed description of every archaeological site they’d visited and what she’d discovered there.

  Nic listened politely to the lady’s chatter. Amelia was as bright as she was beautiful, and her marriage to the devilish earl had changed her, too.

  Gone was the shy wallflower who used to sit in corners and mumble to herself.

  In her place was a regal, confident countess bedecked in satin and diamonds and taking the attention she was garnering in her stride.

  The news of the debauched Devil of Dashford’s marriage had caused nothing short of an uproar amongst the ton. And given that Simon and Amelia had hightailed it off to Scotland as soon as they’d married, then on to Norway, then Italy, nobody had gotten the chance to really ogle the pair until now, and by the sounds of the whispers and looks of raised eyebrows, the ton were taking full advantage now.

  “You are quite the sensation,” Nic said wryly when Amelia paused for a breath.

  She frowned slightly, her spectacles slipping down her nose.

  “Odd creatures,” she said matter-of-factly, before shrugging and turning back to Nic.

  “Tell me, how does Alison get on?” she asked now, and Nic tensed immediately. Foolish but true.

  “I have no idea,” Nic answered as evenly as he could. “I have seen her but rarely.

  “You haven’t seen her?” Simon asked, his shock evident in his tone.

  “I have, of course. A bit.” Nic scrambled for equanimity, hating the speculative gleam in Simon’s eyes. “But I’ve been busy, and –”

  “Amelia!”

  An excited cry rent the air, saving Nic from answering, and they all turned to see Miss Langton bounding up the steps, unaware or uncaring about the sensation she was causing.

  Amelia seemed as unconcerned in what people thought as Alison was, and she rushed to meet her friend halfway.

  Simon and Nic watched as the ladies threw their arms around each other, Nic desperately trying not to be jealous of the countess.

  “So,” Simon said casually. Too casually.

  “So?”

  “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Nic swallowed hard.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

  The silence was deafening, but he refused to break it, just as he refused to look at his friend. He couldn’t have anyway, even if he’d wished to. For at that moment, Alison was joined by Lord Fulham, who p
laced a proprietary hand on her lower back.

  Nic muffled a black oath as he took in the scene.

  “Nicholas Fyfe, as I live and breathe, I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Nic turned to scowl at Simon, his anger flaring at his friend’s delighted look.

  “Shut up, Simon,” he said, uncharacteristically irritable.

  This just served to amuse Simon more, and he chuckled softly.

  “Go to Hell, Simon,” Nicholas bit out.

  “Been there, my friend,” Simon laughed. “Until Amelia. And it would appear that you’ve taken my place.”

  Alison was trying to pay attention to the performance on stage, yet there were far too many distracting things going on around her.

  For one thing, Lord Fulham seemed to brush against her an inordinate amount of times.

  And from the growls emanating from Robert, she wasn’t the only one to notice.

  She told herself to feel flattered by Lord Fulham’s attentions. He was a handsome, wealthy Peer. And whilst Robert had rung a peal over her head when he’d found out that she’d invited him to the theatre that night, Alison was sure he wasn’t that bad.

  It had only been Alison begging Abigail, and Abigail subsequently doing whatever it was she did to make Robert agree to things that led to Lord Fulham accompanying them.

  This vaguely uncomfortable feeling Alison got when he sat a little too close, or his hand brushed the exposed skin between her short-sleeved pink evening gown, and white satin glove, was just her inexperience and nothing more.

  Besides, even Lord Fulham’s attentions couldn’t quite hold her focus.

  Not when Robert’s box was directly across from Lord Dashford’s.

  Not when she could see Lord Barnbury from where she sat.

  Throughout the entire first half of the performance, though she made a valiant effort to concentrate on the actors, or on Lord Fulham’s comments, Alison’s gaze was repeatedly drawn over to the Dashford box and the navy-eyed duke within.

  And every time she looked over, her stomach fluttered wildly.

  Because he was watching her.

  Neither smiling nor frowning, at least from what she could tell at this distance.

  Alison had no idea if he were pleased or displeased.

  All she knew was that he was watching.

  And though she didn’t want it to, that fact made her heart sing.

  By the intermission of the play, Alison couldn’t have said what theatre they were in let alone what performance they were watching.

  All around them, people were shuffling about, either to partake in refreshments or visit each other’s boxes.

  “My dear Miss Langton, allow me to fetch you some ratafia.”

  Alison smiled graciously at Lord Fulham’s attentiveness.

  When he left, she felt her shoulders sag in relief.

  That probably wasn’t supposed to happen during a courtship.

  “What did you think of the performance, Ally?” Abigail asked.

  “Oh, er –” She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t seen any of it! “I-I’m not sure.”

  “Hmm. Perhaps that’s because you paid no attention to it.” Abigail grinned.

  Alison felt her cheeks heat.

  “I might have been a little distracted,” she finally admitted.

  “And what distracted you? Lord Fulham’s attentions, or –”

  Abigail was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Lord Barnbury, Lord Dashford, and Amelia.

  Before any of them could issue a greeting, Lord Barnbury whirled around to face Robert.

  “What are you about, letting that blackguard paw at her in full view of the theatre?”

  There was a shocked silence in the face of Lord Barnbury’s furious outburst as all eyes stared at the man who had never before lost his composure.

  “What the hell do you mean?” Robert finally snapped, his temper obviously flaring in the face of Lord Barnbury’s criticism.

  “I mean, why weren’t you bloody well watching her?” Lord Barnbury snapped back.

  Alison jumped to her feet, feeling guilty and uncomfortable that the two old friends were arguing. About her.

  “Don’t be so ridiculous,” Robert spat. “How much danger do you think she could have been in, in a theatre box?”

  “I don’t know,” Lord Dashford interrupted, most unhelpfully. “I was able to do an obscene amount of damage in a theatre box. In fact –”

  “That’s not helpful, Simon,” Abigail interrupted whatever salacious thing Lord Dashford was about to say.

  “Right, carry on.” He grinned unrepentantly.

  “You need to do a better job watching her,” Lord Barnbury said now.

  Alison was getting mightily sick of them talking about her as though she weren’t there.

  “Robert, Lord Fulham was not behaving untowardly,” she spoke up. “I –”

  Suddenly, Lord Barnbury rounded on her.

  “Perhaps in America it is acceptable for single ladies to act in such a manner, Miss Langton,” he bit out. “But in England, we tend to have standards about these things.”

  Alison heard gasps of shock all around her, but her focus remained on the pompous, overbearing, stuffy man in front of her.

  “Perhaps in England it is acceptable for arrogant, self-important, boring old men to tell young ladies how they should behave. But in America, we tend not to pay them any mind. A custom that I think will serve me very well on this side of the ocean.”

  Without awaiting a response from Lord Barnbury or from anyone else, Alison turned on her heel and dashed from the box.

  She didn’t want to speak to anyone.

  She didn’t want to see Lord Fulham again after the horrid things Lord Barnbury had said.

  More than anything, she never wanted to see or speak to that odious duke again.

  Chapter Eleven

  “That was quite a night last night.”

  Alison looked up with a grimace as Abigail swept into the morning room, resplendent in a seafoam day dress.

  Alison hadn’t been able to sleep much and when the birds began to sing as dawn broke, she had given up and come downstairs.

  The servants had only been starting their chores, so she had wandered around listlessly getting in everyone’s way.

  The truth was that she found the mornings a tad boring.

  When Lottie was up, it was marvellous. She could play all day with her golden-haired niece.

  But Lottie was still abed, as were Robert and Abigail. And so, she’d wandered aimlessly around the house, for the first time missing home.

  At home she would have her friends. People she had known since finishing school, on whom she could call without the strictures of polite Society.

  She would have her horse, and the space to ride it however long she wanted.

  She would have her charity work, too. Something that she missed greatly.

  It was a source of some embarrassment for Mrs. Langton that Alison had involved herself so heavily with the orphanage that Mama had patronised.

  Whilst Mama had told them it was expected for a lady of good breeding to be on the board of some charities, she was loathe to have her daughters actually go near the places.

  But Alison hadn’t cared. She had visited the orphanage, and the hospital for wounded soldiers, and spent hours reading to the men and teaching the children to read and sing and do all sorts of things.

  Here, she wouldn’t even know where to begin.

  At Montvale, she had helped Abigail with her duties as duchess, but the truth was that Montvale and its surroundings were thriving, as were all of Robert’s holdings. His tenants were very well looked after. And the children were provided with a school and an excellent tutor.

  Alison hadn’t been much use. And here in London, she was even less useful.

  She’d breakfasted on tea and toast, lost in her maudlin thoughts, which is how Abigail found her now.

  “I’m sorry for my behaviour, Abby,
” she said, her cheeks flushing with shame at her actions the previous night. “I allowed my temper to get the better of me, and I made you and Robert leave early. I didn’t even bid Lord Fulham farewell. I behaved dreadfully.”

  She studied the pattern on her cup, refusing to meet what was sure to be censorious gaze.

  When her apology was met with silence, however, Alison couldn’t bear it any longer and risked a glance at her sister.

  Abigail, rather than looking ashamed, or furious, was smiling kindly.

  “You know, I have never in my life seen Nicholas anything other than completely calm and collected. It was quite a shock, to see him so overset.”

  Mention of the overbearing duke immediately awoke Alison’s temper.

  “You’ve mentioned that before,” she said bitterly. “I’ve only ever known him to be an unbearable, insufferable bore.”

  Abigail’s eyes widened and bizarrely, she looked as though she were trying to hide a smile.

  “Yes, I’ve noticed. It’s certainly strange.”

  Alison squinted suspiciously at her older sister, but Abigail just stared innocently back.

  Before she could question her sister’s antics however, the door to the morning room opened and Robert swept in carrying Lottie in his arms.

  He walked straight over to Abigail and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Though it was brief and not at all inappropriate, there was such a feeling of love between the two of them that Alison felt as though she were encroaching on a private moment.

  And she wanted the same thing. So very desperately.

  She knew Robert credited Abigail with saving him from a life filled with pain and despair.

  The drowning of his younger sister when he, James, Simon, and Nicholas were children had affected them all. But none more so than Robert, who had tried and failed to save her.

  Abigail loved to tease Robert about how mean he had been to her when they’d first met. And though Robert didn’t deny it, Alison found it hard to believe.

  He adored his wife, and, unlike other Peers, he wasn’t afraid or ashamed to show it.

  Abigail held out her arms for the baby, and Robert handed her over before moving to take his seat at the head of the table.