Silvia’s cheeks bloomed as the footman assisted her into the coach.
Rupert, although he’d not said a word, had kept hold of Vivian’s arm and appeared reluctant to let her go.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Think nothing of it.” He gave a slight bow. “I am yours to command, my lady.”
Her stomach tightened painfully. “Thank you. Until to-morrow.”
At first she thought his lips had tightened, but one corner tilted up. “Indeed.”
She slid onto the bench next to her cousin, while Silvia sat on the rear-facing seat. Clara gave Vivian a calculating look, and she decided to deflect attention from herself. “Silvia, did you straighten things out with Lord Beresford?”
The younger woman chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m not sure. Although, I can say I have a different perspective of him than I did before.” She placed her reticule on her lap. “Time will tell.”
“I do believe,” Clara said as she turned from the window, “Lord Oliver is on his way to my house. Pity we won’t be there to greet him.”
From the tone of her voice she was anything but disappointed.
Silvia frowned. “I thought you favored him.”
“Oh no, my dear.” Clara settled back with a smug mien. “I favored the effect he was having on others. Now that the situation is close to being resolved, I have no further use for him.”
Stratagems. Vivian was simply happy they were not directed at her. Why did life have to be made so complicated? Not that she had any right to talk. Allowing Rupert to think she was another woman wasn’t exactly simplifying her life. Maybe being dutiful should have been enough for her. Still, Rupert had a way of making her feel like a precious jewel, and Vivian could not yet give him up.
Sir Walter Scott had it right when he’d written in his great workMarmion, “Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!”
“Did you say something, my dear?” Clara asked.
“Nothing of import.” Vivian knew herself too well to think she could keep up her pretense for more than a few weeks. First Cleo would have to disappear, then, a week or so later, Vivian would take a journey out of Town to view properties. That would give Rupert time to find a wife, something he should be attending to rather than dallying with her.
If only he did not dally so well.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ablock away from Lady Telford’s house, Rupert brought his phaeton to a halt. “Lord Oliver. A word if you please.”
The man inclined his head. “I’d be happy to, but another time would be better. I have a matter I must attend to first.”
“On Mount Street?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Lord Oliver made to start his horses again.
“I just came from there. The ladies have gone visiting.” Rupert watched the other man carefully. Despite what Beresford had said, Rupert wanted to assure himself that Lord Oliver’s feelings were not engaged. That would make marrying him off to Miss Chawner more difficult than it would probably already be.
“Devil a bit.” A look reminiscent of a panicked horse entered the man’s eyes. “I don’t have time to waste chasing her all over Town. Do you know when they’ll return?”
“I was not privy to that information. However, if you’re considering asking for Miss Corbet’s hand, I think you’ve missed your mark.”
“What do you mean?” Lord Oliver’s already fair complexion paled even further. “I’ve been dancing attendance on her for weeks now. You must be mistaken.”
“Hardly that long. I believe Lord Beresford and Miss Corbet have an understanding. You should know I am rarely wrong.” Rupert glanced around. “We should not speak of this here. Give your carriage to your groom, and we’ll go to a tavern I know of not far from here. I believe I can help you.”
“How can you possibly—”
“The world of thetonis quite small.”
He waited, watching while myriad thoughts and emotions crossed Lord Oliver’s countenance. Mostly anger, but there was fear as well. Fear won out.
