The Dangerous Viscount (14 page)

With a harrumph of exasperation Sebastian turned away and hailed a hackney, headed down the street in the wrong direction. While the driver maneuvered the turn he turned back to Minerva whose expression had progressed to defiance.

“To think I thought you a sensible sort of female,” he said. “I should have known better. You are just as boneheaded and totty-brained as any of them.”

“Why are you so angry?” Minerva demanded. “You didn’t seem to think me totty-brained when I told you about the petition.”

“How can you be so heedless of your sister’s feelings?” he demanded, as he bundled her into the hackney.

Minerva settled back in the seat, folded her arms and thrust her lower lip forward. “I tell you, she’ll never know. She’s out driving with Blakeney this afternoon. I won’t even be missed.”

“Blakeney!” Sebastian almost shouted. “She’s driving out with Blakeney?”

His plans for a peaceful, woman-free evening melted away. Not having seen Blakeney in Diana’s company at any event, he’d assumed his fickle cousin was no longer interested. It was time to make the next move before Blakeney’s position became entrenched.

Minerva’s rebellious pout softened to a demure little smile. “You are right,” she said. “And I was wrong. Very wrong.”

Shock, combined with a lurch as the carriage made the turn into the Haymarket, nearly landed him on the floor.

“I shouldn’t have risked worrying Diana,” she went on, “although I still say she’ll never know. But I’m sorry I did it. I thank you for rescuing me and for your escort. And I am grateful to you for making me see the error of my ways.”

Sebastian eyed her suspiciously. Was she serious?

“Diana is giving a dinner party to celebrate my birthday. I would like to invite you to join us.”

At four o’clock precisely Diana’s butler opened the door to admit the Marquis of Blakeney.

“Is your mistress ready?” he asked. “I don’t like to keep my horses waiting.”

Diana, pacing nervously in the hall, rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “Thank God you are here, Blake.”

“Didn’t you get my note telling you to expect me at four instead of three?”

“Yes, of course. Minerva has disappeared. I’m worried to death something may have happened to her.”

Blake patted her hand. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No! I want to go out and look for her.”

“First tell me what happened.”

“Two hours ago she said she had a headache and went to her room. She gets headaches sometimes, though she’s very brave and ignores them more often than not.”

“Yes, yes, go on.” Blake sounded impatient.

“When I received your note postponing our drive I went to my own rooms to attend to some matters there. A quarter of an hour ago I crept into her room to see how she was and she wasn’t there.”

“Where in blazes would she have gone?”

“She wanted to see the petition delivered to the Home Office. My guess is she’s gone to Whitehall.”

Blake slipped an arm about her waist but she was too agitated to enjoy the sensation. “Cheer up, my
dear. We’ll pop down in my curricle right away.”

“Oh yes, please let us leave at once. I fear something may have happened to her.”

“I doubt it,” Blake said, rather carelessly in Diana’s opinion. “And I’ll be sure to give her a good scolding for such a hoydenish escapade. She’s ruined our afternoon.”

“I should have arranged for her to see the petition delivered, then she wouldn’t have had to resort to this deception.” Although Diana knew Min had behaved badly, she found Blakeney’s attitude galling. She had every intention of punishing her sister, but it was her job, not Blake’s.

“The main thing is that we find her safe,” Blake said, thereby retrieving his position. He put his other arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “Let’s go.”

Even as he spoke there came another knock at the door and the butler opened it at once to admit Minerva, smiling broadly and clinging to the arm of a tall gentleman with spectacles.

“Look who brought me home,” she said cheerfully. “Sebastian, I mean Lord Iverley, has agreed to come to my birthday party.”

“Lord Iverley,” Diana began, then faltered when she saw Sebastian’s expression. What she read there certainly wasn’t boredom or indifference. Neither was it the admiration and desire she’d seen at Mandeville. Even through the glass of his spectacles she couldn’t mistake the raw fury in his eyes.

It only lasted a moment then he smiled blandly and inclined his head. “Lady Fanshawe. Blake. I’ve had the honor of escorting Miss Montrose home.”

Sebastian strode through Mayfair, the walk to Piccadilly only increasing his seething hatred.

“I need to learn how to box.”

“Nice to see you, too, Sebastian,” Tarquin drawled in response to Sebastian bursting into his dressing room without so much as a word of greeting. “Obviously you need a drink.” He nodded at his valet, who laid down the waistcoat Tarquin was about to put on.

The man returned a minute later with a decanter of sack and Sebastian tossed back a glass, the dry but rich wine enhancing the feelings of aggression that already expanded his chest.

“You look as though you want to kill someone,” Tarquin said calmly.

It wouldn’t come to that, Sebastian assumed. But he wasn’t guaranteeing that he wouldn’t inflict considerable bodily harm on his cousin Blake before this was over.

He growled.

“I suppose I could arrange some lessons,” Tarquin continued. “Meet me at Jackson’s tomorrow at noon. Now get out and let me dress in peace.”

“L
ord Chase is a marquis,” Minerva said.

“Yes,” agreed Diana and wished she hadn’t punished Minerva for her escapade by depriving her of newspapers for a week. Her sister had too much time to brood. Tomorrow, thank the Lord, she could go back to reading
The Times.
Meanwhile she sat in the drawing room looking bored and worrying about the seating arrangements for her birthday party.

“And so is Lord Blakeney. But he will be a duke one day.”

“Quite so.”

Minerva, Diana observed with interest, was kicking her heals against the legs of her chair. She’d never actually seen anyone do that.

“So is Blakeney’s precedence higher?” Min asked. “Or is Lord Chase higher because he’s a real marquis, not just one by courtesy? Or is precedence decided by the date of the title’s creation? And if so, which title?”

“For the hundredth time, Min. I don’t know and I don’t care.”

Minerva looked sulky. “I bet Lord Blakeney cares. He’s quite full of himself.”

Diana set aside her embroidery, which she hardly worked on anyway. She’d never learned to sew as a child, neither Montrose parent having regarded stitchery as a necessary skill. She’d taken it up to please Tobias who thought she looked pretty bent over the frame, fussing with colored silks.

“Stop making nasty little remarks about Blakeney, who may be about to become your brother-in-law. I know you have this ridiculous notion that I should prefer Lord Iverley but it will never happen. Not least because Lord Iverley is not at all interested in me.”

“Yes he is.”

No. He isn’t.”

“Well, he was. Before, when he came to see us at Wallop.” Minerva saw a good deal too much.

“If he was, he isn’t anymore. He scarcely speaks to me when we meet.”

Minerva gave her a hard look. “Did you do something to offend him? Because if so, you should apologize.”

Cringing inwardly, Diana tried to shake off her guilty conscience. He couldn’t have found out, could he? Apart from her, only Blake and Lamb knew about the bet and they swore they hadn’t said a word. But nothing else explained the way he almost snubbed her. And she hadn’t imagined his anger when he brought Min home.

Her sister wouldn’t leave the subject alone. “You just prefer Blakeney because he’s going to be a duke. Isn’t a viscount good enough for you?”

“That’s absurd. You know I’ve wanted Blake for years. And it’s too much coming from you. I’m not
the one who’s obsessed with precedence.” There were times when Minerva was too annoying for words.

The arrival of visitors saved Min from grave injury and put a temporary end to the sisterly wrangle. Diana’s new friend Lady Chase was accompanied by her sister-in-law, Lady Esther Godfrey, who was the same age as Minerva.

“Thank goodness you’ve arrived, Juliana. We are about to have a small luncheon. Will you join us? Minerva’s driving me quite mad. Perhaps you can settle her questions about the order of precedence.”

Lady Chase, or Juliana as she had become over the course of a couple of meetings of the disorganized, sparsely attended, and still unnamed Books and Bonnets Club, looked alarmed. “I seriously doubt it.”

“But you are a marchioness,” Minerva said.

“A very new one. Esther might be able to help.”

Lady Esther was admiring Diana’s gown and disclaimed any special knowledge in the area.

“I’m trying to decide on the seating arrangements for my birthday party,” Minerva explained.

“I thought it was to be a small, informal affair since you aren’t out,” Juliana said.

“Di said I could have it the way I wanted and I wish to practice for the future. There will only be about a dozen at the table but I want to get it right. You will be the highest ranking lady present.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean I have to go into dinner with Sebastian Iverley.”

“No,” Minerva assured her. “Probably Lord Blakeney. I’d
like
to sit next to Lord Iverley.”

“It’s your party. Why don’t you?”

“I have no rank at all. I shall be at the very bottom of the table, next to Mr. MacFarland. That’s all right. He’s great fun.”

“You’d never guess,” Diana remarked to her visitors, “that my sister is a Radical.”

“In order to exert influence,” Minerva said earnestly, “you have to win the ear of those in power and you do that by playing by their rules in inessential matters.”

Juliana regarded the girl with awe. “Is she always like this?”

“I know,” Diana said with a nod. “She’s terrifying. But I love her anyway. Most of the time.”

Marsden arrived to announce the meal and the four ladies descended to the dining room where cold meats, salad, and fruit awaited them.

“We came to issue an invitation of our own,” Juliana said. “We’re removing to Gloucestershire at the end of the month. Cain and I thought we’d invite some friends to visit us for a week or two. Please say you and Minerva will join the party.”

Diana accepted with pleasure. Markley Chase Abbey was a famous Elizabethan house that few people ever visited.

“I shall be glad to have the support of a friend,” Juliana went on. “My mother-in-law just moved to the dower house and this is the first time I shall be the hostess at the Abbey. You seem to have a much better grasp of entertaining than I do. Look at this lovely array of food, just for chance callers. Not,” she added, looking at Diana’s plate, “that you seem to be taking advantage of it. Is that beetroot?”

Diana looked down at the slice of boiled chicken
accompanied by three unappetizing slices of carmine vegetable that bled into the white meat. “It’s my new reducing diet,” she said. “The old one, where I only ate foods I enjoyed, didn’t work. No danger of that with this regime.”

“I can’t imagine why you think you need a regime,” Juliana said. “You always look beautiful.”

“Thank you for saying that, but Chantal doesn’t agree and I am in thrall to my maid.”

“I’ll make sure we have plenty of beetroot in the house when you stay with us.”

“I wish I could feel more grateful,” Diana said. “I really don’t like it very much.”

“She’ll probably have changed her diet by that time,” Minerva remarked. “This is the third one she’s tried.”

“Enough of your impudence. Try a little respect for your elders!” Diana said severely, then spoiled the effect by laughing. “Min’s right, unfortunately. But I really think this one is working. I feel thinner after only two days. Beetroot must have some magical reducing property. Chantal says I need to lose an inch off the bosom to make the new fashions drape correctly.”

Juliana looked at her quizzically. “I doubt Lord Blakeney would agree with that opinion.”

“Nor Sebastian,” Minerva muttered.

“Should we invite Blakeney to Markley Chase? My husband is acquainted with him, I believe.”

“He won’t come unless you have lots of hunting, shooting, and fishing,” Min said. “The more animals he can kill the happier he is.”

“Be quiet, Min. It’s entirely up to you, Juliana. I’ll
just say that things are progressing well in that area. Very well indeed.”

Without going so far as to claim enjoyment, Sebastian was beginning to find his excursions among the
ton
at least bearable. To begin with, he no longer felt any awkwardness in company. He could talk to anyone with ease. And though much of what passed for conversation in the vast ocean of society was insipid, he discovered islands of sense, not all of them male.

He accepted an invitation to dine at the house of a married acquaintance and found it quite endurable, despite the presence of his friend’s wife and sister-in-law. To his surprise he learned that Diana wasn’t unique in all her sex in possessing the ability to conduct an intelligent discussion.

The company went on to the theater and, making the promenade in the interval between the tragedy and the farce, Sebastian caught sight of Diana as he descended the grand staircase. Lady Georgina had seen him and thrown him an encouraging smile, but suddenly he couldn’t stomach another exchange with the woman. Pretending not to notice, he marched past her in the crowd and forged on in Diana’s direction so that he could brush her arm in passing. He’d become quite an expert at the maneuver but the thrilling shock of her touch never diminished.

“I beg your pardon, Lady Fanshawe,” he murmured.

“Lord Iverley,” she replied. She looked at him warily, as though expecting a snub, and started to turn away.

On impulse he decided to alter his tactics. She was certainly puzzled and probably annoyed at the way he had almost ignored her. Now that he’d secured an invitation to her house, it was time to move on from subtle neglect and start charming her in earnest.