He strode through the hall. As his butler opened the door and bowed, Nick said, “I’m on my way to the dower house.”
The butler opened his mouth, shut it. “Very well, my lord.”
Fifteen minutes later, he raised his hand to knock on the door when he noticed the knocker was not there.What the hell?He pounded on the black lacquered wood.
After what seemed like an inordinately long time, it was opened by the housekeeper. “What can I do for ye, my lord?”
He unclenched his jaw. “Do you happen to know where her ladyship went?”
“London.”
Just what he had not needed to hear. “When do you expect her ladyship to return?”
“She didn’t say.” The woman stood there with her arms folded across her large frame.
It would be easier getting a recalcitrant jackass to do his bidding than getting information from her. “Very well.”
Blast it all to bloody hell!And not a word to him. Now what was he supposed to do? He’d never liked London, filthy place. Give him clean country air any day. And socializing with thetonreminded him more of going into a battle. It had never mattered what his father or cousin or even some of his fellow officers had to say, war was simpler.
He was half-way back to the abbey when he detoured to the family graveyard and his cousin’s place in it. The edifice that housed Edgar’s body was impressive. Constructed of marble, it had taken almost six months to build. Flowers had been planted around the stone and placed in a vase on top of it. Most likely Mrs. Raeford’s doing. The woman was still in black, while Edgar’s wife was in London. Well, good for Vivian! She deserved to have some fun; her marriage hadn’t given her any. Nick wondered if Mr. Raeford had minded. Probably not, the old earl had paid him a fair amount in coin and land to marry his son’s mistress.
“I made a damned mess of trying to keep my promise to you, Edgar. I told you I didn’t want to do this, but I’ll try again. The problem is that I must now travel to Town. I’ll see you when I return.”
Nick turned and started back to the house. With any luck at all, he’d convince Vivian Beresford to wed him and be back before word got around that he was looking for a wife. After all, he’d never lost a campaign yet. Still, a niggling feeling that he wasn’t doing what he ought to hung on his back like a Barbary ape, digging its claws into him. By doing this was he worsening an already bad situation? And what about Silvia? Despite the way she treated him, he still loved her. If only she would talk to him, tell him what he’d done wrong. Bloody hell, this was a fine pickle, and he couldn’t for the life of him see his way out of it and retain his honor.
CHAPTER FOUR
Rupert tried not to grin as Wigman, his valet, plucked an invisible piece of lint from Rupert’s jacket. It was a ritual they had gone through every day since he was sixteen, when his grandfather Stanstead had insisted Rupert have a valet. Some gentlemen would probably become annoyed with such fussiness, but he believed in encouraging everyone to perform their duties to the best of their abilities. If that meant a few moments’ delay in dressing, so be it. “Am I presentable, Wigman?”
“None more so, my lord.” Wigman gave a small sigh. “I do regret that Mr. Brummell was allowed to hold sway over gentlemen’s clothing. There was nothing like a nice lace cuff or velvet jacket to show a gentleman to perfection.”
“I have no doubt you are correct.” Truth be told, Rupert thought the previous styles had some merit. “Though, I do have an aversion to wigs and hair powder.”
“I must agree with you regarding that particular affectation, my lord.” He handed Rupert his watch fob and quizzing glass. “You are fortunate that you do not require padding. One could more easily disguise additions to a gentleman’s physique before the styles changed so drastically.”
“Fortunate indeed.” Rupert clamped his lips together. If he didn’t depart immediately, he’d be subject to the litany of faults in Wigman’s previous employers. “I have no idea when I’ll return.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Rupert strode out of his Grosvenor Square town house to the waiting town coach. He’d considered walking to Robert’s home on Berkeley Square, but dark clouds had hung low all afternoon, and the scent of rain was in the air. Not to mention arriving at his cousin’s house for their first ball, soaked, was not a wonderful idea. Rupert settled on the soft brown leather seat, a footman closed the door, and his coachman started forward.
He attempted to tamp down the feeling that something momentous was about to happen. His parents and Robert were most likely correct that he wouldn’t meet anyone he didn’t already know. Still, he couldn’t help a surge of excitement when the carriage came to a stop. Somewhere the perfect lady was out there waiting for him. All he had to do was find her.
The coach door opened, and he caught a glimpse of pale blue skirts moving up the steps before they disappeared into the house. The urge to chase after her, whoever she was, was almost too strong to resist. Rupert could feel his pulse beating a tattoo against his cravat; still, he forced himself to calmly take his place in the line. What were the chances it was the same woman who had watched him as he traversed the Mount Street Gardens? Surely she wouldn’t wear the same gown to a ball, yet he had noticed that when a lady favored a certain color, she wore it more often than she did others.
He was being absurd. Even a bit mad. Rupert knew absolutely nothing about the woman, not how old she was, or if she was married, or what she looked like, or if it was indeed the same female. In addition, there were a great many people between him and the lady in blue. Yet there was some force pushing him forward, necessitating that he follow her.
Perhaps this would be an eventful night after all.
“Lord Stanstead.” A soft giggle accompanied his name.
Who the devil . . . ah, he saw her now. The young lady who’d spoken was with Lord and Lady Banks. His lordship frowned, and her ladyship smiled.
Mama had apparently begun her campaign.
“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” Rupert asked as he bowed over Lady Banks’s outstretched hand.
Her smile deepened. “It is indeed, my lord. I think you have already met my daughter, Miss Banks.”
