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Lady Julia, clearly, had not felt the same remorse. Fortunately, Stephen didn’t often encounter Sir Archie. Whenever he did, though, he wondered if Sir Archie knew to what lengths his wife had gone when, no doubt together, they’d hatched the plan for her to divert Stephen on his way back from pissing in the chamber pot farther up the passage. Yes, Sir Archie was indeed complicit in the plan whereby he and his friend Barston would swap the tiny male spider Stephen had confidently predicted would be vanquished by the female, with another. The reversal of what Stephen knew to be a natural act of nature had been engineered into a false outcome, seeing Stephen lose every last farthing he possessed in the world, and more.
True, Lord Partington had engineered matters so Stephen could have his revenge, but the fact was that Sir Archie had acted with thorough ignobleness, though Stephen knew he now held some position which required that he had dealings with the Home Office. Fortunately, their paths did not cross.
Yet, did Sir Archie suspect how far his fair wife had gone in their shared quest to distract Stephen? Did he know—Stephen shuddered at this—that when she’d almost pleasured Stephen to the pinnacle of his endurance, she’d unexpectedly hiked up her skirts and straddled him, climaxing at the very same moment Stephen had? As if she’d truly found their lovemaking as incendiary as he had? No wonder Stephen had—for about ten minutes—entertained thoughts of jumping astride his charger the very next day and taking Lady Julia into the sunset with him. What had he been thinking? She had twin boys in the nursery. He hadn’t given a thought to that little fact. He’d thought she was choosing love with Stephen above all else.
And then, the next day, Stephen had met Sybil. Simple reflection of her calm sweetness made his insides stop their churning. She was everything he needed. Everything and more.
“Wild days,” said Tunley. “It seems you left your past behind when you arrived back on English soil a little less than three years ago. You can’t pretend you don’t know you’re in the sights of every designing mama who has a debutante to launch. You are in London on Government business, and you dutifully attend many social events, yet you show no discernment, and as soon as possible, you return to the country.”
Stephen licked dry lips and managed a weak smile. “I had no idea my movements were so minutely scrutinized. What interest might you—or others— have in my conduct if it has so little impact on anyone else?” He was deeply worried now. All this time he’d thought he’d been so clever, avoiding interest, gossip and, ultimately detection. The thought that Tunley, so self-effacing, should have taken such a keen interest, bordered on terrifying.
He dismissed the irrational notion Tunley’s question might be prompted by suspicion that Stephen had something to hide; that Stephen had joined the ranks of the blackmailed, almost before it had even lodged in his mind. Of course, Tunley knew nothing of Stephen’s secret life. What Tunley was demonstrating, however, was that he took account of minor matters in an almost scientific way; that he played a key role in the move to nail down the increasingly active blackmailer who was wreaking havoc among the ton.
He wanted to prize from Stephen anything that might be of minor interest, something that might be potentially useful.
Tunley shrugged. “I’m suggesting that while I can conduct my observation from afar, you might be able to tell me more of interest, given that you move in more exalted circles than I do.”
The comparison flashed through his mind that Tunley’s impecunious situation was not dissimilar to Stephen’s if one turned the clock back three years. Both had been born into wealthy families and brought up as gentlemen, but shackled in their expectations since a fat pocketbook wasn’t part of the deal.
Stephen had found luck, of course, by being invited early to The Grange as Lord Partington’s acknowledged heir. Tunley was hoping honest toil would see him rewarded. Presumably, that was the intention when he took on the role of secretary to Lord Debenham—or rather, continued in it.
“You’re an asset to King and Crown, and we serve the same master,” said Stephen, “but I don’t know that it makes me ready to divulge my secrets to you.”
“Your secrets? Why, that’s a confession if ever I heard one.” He peered more closely at Stephen. “And if perchance you ever received a poison pen letter, you’re insinuating that you’d rather hold onto your secret than tell me?” He shook his head. “You’d choose to trust that your blackmailer will be satisfied with the filthy lucre he mines from you, rather than divulge your secret to a man who might be able to help you?”
Stephen nodded, decided. “I trust you enough to concede that I have a secret, but I’m afraid I would go to any lengths to keep it hidden,” he said.
“Even if that means satisfying the ever greater demands of a ruthless blackmailer?”
Stephen nodded.
Chapter 12
Octavia’s hand felt small and insubstantial in Silverton’s grip as he led her onto the dance floor. He could tell she was nervous, so his smile was bolstering for her benefit.
The light was kind to her sallow complexion. He’d thought she looked tired and somehow diminished from the last time he’d observed her back in the country. But then, she’d been com
fortable in the domain over which she reigned; assisting his mother with her jam-making, he recalled, being the last time he’d seen her. He’d not expected then to make her an offer.
He’d never expected to make her an offer. He’d acted rashly, of course, penning her the letter inquiring after her thoughts on matrimony with him after he’d learned Kitty was to be marrying Lord Nash.
The whole Nash affair had been a debacle. And if Silverton felt he’d been shackled to a marriage he did not desire, it was through his own lustful impetuosity.
Kitty had been in the church saying her vows to Nash, for God’s sake, when Nash’s father had objected, seeming to bear up the fact that Nash was planning a sham marriage. When Kitty had rushed out of the church, Silverton had felt only the most enormous relief. Now he could have her at last.
She’d all but admitted she loved Silverton, but would marry Nash because she was fond enough of him to accept what she wanted above all else—honest matrimony.
How ironic that Silverton’s hasty seduction had put paid to Kitty’s chances. Yes, she had the man she loved, but she’d never get the marriage Nash offered. And that was because of Silverton. His lovely, good-natured Kitty had not appeared to harbor a grudge. Besides, that was not Kitty’s way. Her sweet purity was what he loved about her.
He forced himself to remember that Octavia had a similar sweet purity. What did it matter that Octavia was plain and shy and disliked the social whirl? That, other than her good and pure heart, she couldn’t be more different from Kitty?
Another pang.
“Are you all right, Silverton?”
He glanced with surprise at Octavia as he positioned himself opposite her for the cotillion.
She looked concerned. “I wondered if a sudden pain had beset you.”
