My Wayward Lady (19 page)
Thankful that he had let go of the reins, she again dug in her heels and moved toward home, leaving Adrian to wish that he had been able to offer her more than a vague plan to neutralize the threats of Sir Neville Fletcher. Looking down into her eyes, bright with unshed tears, he had longed for nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and cover her face with kisses, promising her safety, security, and protection from anything that might threaten her happiness even for an instant.
But much as he might wish to hold her and comfort her, Adrian knew that it was action Harriet needed. There was no time like the present to confront her persecutor. A man of debauched tendencies. Sir Neville Fletcher was very likely in bed at this hour sleeping off a night of excess. He would 174
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therefore be at his most vulnerable. As someone who had enjoyed similar evenings himself, the marquess knew that a person was not at his best the morning after. Thus resolved, he turned Trajan in the direction of Grosvenor Gate and thence to Fletcher's lodgings in Curzon Street where he tossed half a crown to a likely looking lad, asking him to walk his horse while he conducted his business inside.
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Just as the marquess had suspected, Sir Neville had not yet arisen. It took some doing, but when at last Lord Chalfont had convinced the surly manservant that he was not about to quit the premises until he had spoken with his master, he was asked, none too graciously, to wait while the man went to rouse his master.
Left alone, Adrian glanced about the room, but there was nothing about it, beyond a general untidiness and lack of distinguishing taste, to give any clue as to the character of its occupant. Other than a half a bottle of port, an empty glass, and a mound of what looked to be crumpled up vowels hastily flung down on the table next to them, there was little else of interest in the sparsely furnished chambers. The door opened and Sir Neville, in a hastily tied dressing gown of rich brocade, marched out. "I would like to know what is so damned important that I am imposed upon at this ungodly hour." Recognizing his visitor he came to an abrupt halt, the expression of annoyance turning into one of anger.
"Oh, it is you, is it? Come to stick your nose into something that is none of your affair?"
"Ah, but all despicable behavior is my affair"—Lord Chalfont responded blandly as he brushed a nonexistent speck of lint off the lapel of his dark blue coat of Bath superfine—"particularly when it threatens a person whose boots you are not fit to lick. I have merely come to inform you that you are to have no further communication with the 176
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person in question; and, if I discover that you have not heeded my friendly warning, you will find yourself utterly and thoroughly ruined, at the very least. I trust I make myself clear. Good day."
And, without giving Sir Neville a moment to reply, the marquess turned on his heel and strolled out, leaving his outraged host to clench his fist and splutter furiously before sinking into the chair by a dark and cold fireplace. "Well, what are you looking at, imbecile?" Sir Neville snarled at the ghoulish-looking servant who hovered anxiously nearby. "Get me another bottle of port and be quick about it." He tossed down the remains of the open bottle and stared unseeingly into the empty grate.
Slowly a wolfish smile spread over his swarthy features and he chortled gleefully to no one in particular. "So, Lady Harriet, you think you can fight me. We shall see, my pretty little spitfire. You should have taken my offer of marriage when you had the chance. Now you shall not be so lucky. What need have I for a wife of good standing in the
ton
if I am to be ruined anyway? No, Lady Harriet, I shall take you simply for the pleasure of taming someone who has caused me far too much trouble as it is. We shall see who wins this battle yet, you or I. And when I make my move, there will be no chivalrous gentleman to rush to your aid: of that you can be sure." And rubbing his hands together in an ecstasy of spiteful merriment. Sir Neville began to plot furiously. Striding purposefully back to Mount Street, Lord Chalfont was also cudgeling his brain. He did not delude himself for a moment into believing that he had intimidated Sir Neville into 177
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leaving Harriet alone. In all probability this confrontation with the man was more likely to precipitate some action rather than forestall it. Adrian would have to move quickly if he wanted to be ahead of the game.
Upon reaching his chambers, he instructed Richards to keep an eye on Lady Harriet at all times. The valet, who had been a seasoned soldier long before the marquess had made him his batman, offered only the faintest of protest for he, like his master, had been missing the excitement of their previous existence. "But, my lord, who will do for you if I am to take upon myself this surveillance?" he asked.
"Why, no one. I shall do for myself," Adrian responded with considerable surprise. Then, catching sight of his henchman's worried expression, he laughed. "Relax, Richards. I am only asking you to do this for me because I can trust no one else to do it so well or to be as loyal to me as you are. Tonight I shall be attending Lady Morecambe's ball, which undoubtedly will be honored by the presence of the young lady in question so you need not begin your watch just yet. However, I would appreciate it if you would learn all you can about the affairs of Sir Neville Fletcher, a man of dubious reputation who is no better than he should be. I need facts to back up the unpleasant hearsay that follows him wherever he goes."
Richards grinned, as much in relief as at the prospect of adventure. "Yes, sir. Very good, sir. When shall I begin? Now, sir?"
"Immediately."
"Thank you, sir. Rest assured, I shall find out something." 178
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"I have complete faith in you, Richards. Anyone who could continually produce a roast chicken with vegetables in the godforsaken places we have been together should have no trouble uncovering damaging information about a thoroughly unsavory character. I await your report." With a wink and a nod, the servant was gone, only to appear a few hours later with the information that it was universally believed that Sir Neville had acquired his considerable fortune by cheating at cards. Furthermore, it was rumored that upon one occasion he had actually been accused of it, but since his accuser was the notoriously unsteady Lord Harry Markham, younger son of the Duke of Silchester, who was also in his cups at the time, it had been quickly forgotten. Richards had inveigled this information from a servant at a fashionable gaming hell who had witnessed the entire episode.
Upon receiving this report, Lord Chalfont leaned back in his chair, smiling through half-closed eyes. "Very good, Richards. You have outdone yourself. I trust you paid the man handsomely for the revelation and gained his assurance that he would back up Lord Harry's story if necessary."
"But of course, my lord." Richards looked wounded at the very thought of his failing to insure the man's compliance.
"Now it is up to me. And I fancy I shall meet with everyone I need to at Lady Morecambe's, except, of course. Sir Neville."
Lord Chalfont had not been mistaken. Among the first people he saw when, with Alicia and her mother on each arm, he finally escaped from the press of people in the imposing 179
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entrance hall into the brilliantly lit ballroom were Lady Elizabeth and her fiancé, Lady Harriet and Lord Aylward, with Aunt Almeria and Harriet's father deep in conversation behind them. At the sight of Lord Aylward, the marquess's eyebrows drew together in the faintest of frowns. He had seen that fellow more than once in Lady Harriet's company. Surely she was not interested in that dullard? Aylward was a pleasant enough sort, but no match for the scintillating Harriet.
"Chalfont, you are not attending." Alicia's silvery voice broke into his thoughts. She continued to nod to acquaintances, smiling brilliantly, but there was an edge to her tone that hinted at her severe displeasure in not being the focus of his attention. Not for the first time Adrian wondered if she even cared about who the person was behind the Marquess of Kidderham.
Just then Harriet turned and, catching sight of him, smiled. It was nothing more than a friendly smile of recognition, but it was completely spontaneous and genuine, as though she was truly glad to see him. Adrian found himself grinning foolishly back at her as his pulses quickened in a most uncharacteristic manner. What was wrong with him?
Thousands of women had cast far more alluring looks in his direction without eliciting such a reaction. He must be entering his dotage if he was now responding that way to a pretty girl's smile.
Guiltily he turned back to Alicia, trying to concentrate as she related one little tidbit of gossip after another. Did he know that the Favells were quite done up and were leaving immediately without waiting for the end of the Season? And 180
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Letty Harleton had finally caught poor Lord Dorling, though it was really the handsome income and snug little manor house that her father had settled on her that had done the trick. Nodding automatically, Adrian let it all flow by him as he thought about how he was going to procure a dance with Harriet. He had been so preoccupied with ending Sir Neville's pursuit of her that he had totally neglected to tell her he had followed her suggestion and called on some of the most influential men in the government whose political views coincided with his. The prospects they had offered him were quite exciting and he wanted Harriet to be the first person to share it with him.
At long last, he was able to break away from Alicia and her mother just as Lord Aylward was returning Harriet to her family after standing up with her in the quadrille. Good. It was now his turn for surely the man was too discreet to ask her to stand up with him again.
"May I have this dance?"
The deep voice at her elbow startled Harriet who had been gazing abstractedly over the multicolored throng and wondering how she was to endure another suffocating evening of aimless dances and even more desultory conversation. She whirled around. "Oh, it is you, my lord." Then, realizing that this sounded as though she had been waiting all evening for him to approach her, she broke into a flood of inanities: the weather, the sad crush of people, her dance with Lord Aylward.
Adrian grinned and held up an admonitory hand. "Enough, enough. You have convinced me that you were not hoping to 181
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talk to me in the least." A vivid blush rose to her cheeks and, taking pity on her, he held out his hand and led her to the dance floor, remarking, "I have been waiting to have a moment alone with you even if you have not been waiting to talk to me." He lowered his voice until Harriet could barely make out his words. "I have spoken with Sir Neville and warned him in no uncertain terms that should he have any contact with you again it will go very badly for him. That should stop him for a time; however, I shall continue in my efforts to discourage him from remaining in London." Harriet smiled shyly up at him. "I am forever in your debt, my lord, and I wish ... I wish there were some way I could thank you."
'Think nothing of it; you already have." She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I have?"
"Yes. By encouraging me to sit up and take stock of the world around me. You are entirely in the right of it; there is a great deal to be done. I have already met with Brougham, Lansdowne, and Grey—even Burdett, Cochrane, and Romilly—
in an effort to learn more about the problems besetting us and the solutions being proposed. I am now pledged to take my seat and devote my energies to the questions at hand as you suggested I do. I cannot thank you enough for provoking me into action. For the first time in months I feel as though I can still accomplish something with my life even though I am no longer in the army."
The light in his eyes and the energetic tone of his voice were abundant proof of the truth of this statement. Harriet could not help feeling gratified at her role in this 182
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transformation. "It is very kind of you to give me such credit, but I am persuaded that in time you yourself would have come to such an inevitable conclusion." Involuntarily Adrian glanced in Alicia's direction. How very different her cool, patrician beauty was from the vivid face turned up to his. He wondered if his betrothed would even countenance his entering into politics to improve the lives of the poor soldiers and desperate laborers looking for work. Certainly she never would have suggested such a thing, and she would have laughed at the absurd notion that he was searching for something to do that would give meaning to his life and interest to his days. How little she knew him, his exquisite fiancée; and would she even care that she did not?
Adrian resolved to put this question to the test as soon as he returned Harriet to her family.
These were the reflections of a moment, but Harriet, intensely aware of her partner's every move, was able to come up with her own reasonably accurate interpretation of the sudden change in his expression from one of vitality and enthusiasm to something close to resignation. She herself considered Alicia to be as dull as a stick what with her airs and graces and her slavish devotion to the rigid dictates of the
ton.
But Harriet had always been uncomfortably aware that men were not so nice in their judgments where great beauty was also involved. However, here was one gentleman, at least, who did not appear to be awestruck by the sight of the Honorable Alicia De Villiers. Harriet was unusually silent for the rest of the dance, a thoughtful frown wrinkling her 183
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