Lord Scoundrel Dies (14 page)

And here was where she left truth behind…
‘We were introduced at Lady Garamond’s summer fete last week. Do
you remember? There was such a crush. I think she invited everybody
in town.’ It was a well-placed remark; Margaret Astley did not like
Lady Garamond. Since coming to London, Harry had been surprised by
the ill will that seemed to exist between so many ladies. Society
seemed to be anchored in catty remarks and petty jealousies.

‘That’s Celia Garamond for
you,’ her aunt said disdainfully. ‘The woman never has had any
sense of occasion and
will
invite all and sundry, no matter what anybody
might say on the matter.’

‘So we’re going, then?’ Harry demanded.
‘Tonight, I mean.’

‘Of course we must go. Mrs. Finch… so
charming. As she took the trouble to come herself and offer an
invitation it would be ungracious of us to snub her.’

Harry nodded, head busy
with this unexpected occurrence. She wasn’t at all sure what she
thought about putting in an appearance at his lordship’s house, not
when he had made his disapproval so very obvious. Surely this
wasn’t another attempt to dissuade her from her self-appointed
task? Nobody could be
that
determined to express their opinion. Could
they?

Not that she objected to the outing, not at
all. If Lord Talisker wished to argue his point she was more than
willing to argue right back again. In fact, she looked forward to
doing so for there was something particularly enjoyable about
disagreeing with such a creature, a man who was so sure he was
always right. No, whatever he might have to say to her Harry was
confident that she could rebut it. She had the moral high ground,
after all and even if she hadn’t, it was doubtful she would have
backed down when faced with such insufferable, misplaced
conceit.

So it was that, some hours later, their
hostess greeted her three guests warmly when they arrived at Curzon
Street. It was, as she had said, a small party with no more than
sixty guests and the fair Celeste drew them into a large ballroom
where the festivities were well underway. It was a warm July night
and the French doors that ran down one side of the house stood
wide, allowing the flower-scented evening air into the room. They
had been careful to be neither early, nor late and quite a few
guests were already dancing to the music produced by the small,
excellent orchestra at one end of the room. Livery clad footmen
circulated with trays of drinks and small bites to eat, a novel
idea that Harry had not seen before but heartily approved of. It
was certainly better than having to cluster around buffet
tables.

It was all very nice. But it would be very
nice, wouldn’t it? Talisker was as rich as Midas and had only to
fund such entertainment. He had his delightful sister-in-law to
play hostess and arrange such entertainments without lifting a
finger himself. No wonder the man eluded the clutches of hopeful
mamas. What did he need with marriage when his needs were so well
catered to?

The house in Curzon Street was impressive
but Harry had been told, when Sarah had been elaborating on the
man’s attractions, that his lordship also owned a large place
abutting Hounslow Heath and an enormous estate in Warwickshire. All
this largesse and he was still tantalizingly single. No wonder
females sniffed after him like dogs on the scent. She caught sight
of him almost immediately when she entered a large room that had
been set up for dancing. It wasn’t difficult to spot him, for he
was very tall, well over six feet and possessed a fine set of
shoulders that dominated the space around him. Lord Talisker, she
was forced to admit, would attract attention anywhere. Up until
tonight, she had not paid his undoubted appeal the slightest
attention but without his abrasive personality thrust into her face
it was easier to see why Sarah sighed a little when discussing him.
He was dancing with a large matron whose peach satin gown made the
ample curves they encased gleam, the material emphasizing her
likeness to the fruit.

At least, Harry reflected
sourly, he did not chase after only the pretty young girls but knew
his duty enough to squire
all
the ladies around the floor. She followed Sarah
and her aunt further into the room, trailing Mrs. Finch who seemed
keen on introducing them to her husband. Edward Finch was very much
like his brother, if a somewhat less forceful version. His eyes
were blue, not brown and rather watchful and while he carried an
air of gravity about him, he smiled at them readily enough and
bowed over each of their hands. Harry, who suspected that his
lordship had spun his family some faradiddle to ensure her
presence, was not surprised when Mr. Finch paid particular
attention to her.

‘Miss Honeywood,’ he said pleasantly. ‘How
nice to meet you.’

Harry thought she detected
a look of curious bewilderment in those blue eyes as he looked her
over
. I am not Talisker’s usual type and
his brother cannot understand why he would have insisted I be
invited. I suppose I hardly look the sort to inspire impatient
passion in a gentleman’s breast. What has he said to these poor
people?

‘And you, Mr. Finch,’ she replied, dropping
a curtsey.

‘You have not been in London long?’ Edward
Finch enquired curiously.

‘Two and a half weeks. My family is from
Shropshire.

‘Ah,’ he mulled this over for a moment while
continuing to stare at her pensively. His wife subtly elbowed him
in the ribs.

‘There is Mrs. Messingham and her delightful
daughter,’ she murmured. ‘Please excuse us, won’t you? We must go
and say hello. But I will be sure to come and find you later so
that we can get to know you better. All of you,’ she added
conscientiously.

After she had fluttered away, taking her
husband with her, Sarah turned and raised an eyebrow at her cousin.
‘Is there something we should know?’

‘What?’ Harry said, distracted by the fact
that Olivia Messingham had apparently arrived. The very girl who
had lost the bracelet that had become entangled in Mr. Lampforth’s
hair. How very fortunate. Harry had taken to carrying the items
that had been positively identified around with her for just such
an eventuality. She could not return what she could not immediately
lay her hands on and who knew when she would encounter the owners
of her lost treasure? Once again, it seemed her foresight had been
rewarded.

‘Mr. Edward Finch was behaving as if you are
shortly to become a member of the family.’

‘Nonsense. You are imagining it.’

‘She isn’t,’ Aunt Margaret replied. ‘My dear
Harriet, I believe you must have caught the eye of the most
eligible bachelor in London.’

‘Didn’t you tell me that
the Earl of Beadle was the most eligible man in London? And Lord
Luscombe… what happened to his ranking? I am certain you
called
him
the
most eligible only a day ago.’

‘Don’t quibble. You know what I mean. You
must have made a profound impression on Talisker at Lady Garamond’s
fete. What did you do to interest him so much?’

Once again, the truth would not serve,
although she had certainly interested him. Not in a good way,
however.

‘I have no idea,’ she said. ‘Perhaps he has
confused me with somebody else.’

‘I doubt anybody could confuse you with
somebody else,’ her cousin observed tartly.

Harry gave her a quelling look. Sarah owed
her a little gratitude – if it wasn’t for her cousin she would not
be standing here now, wondering what it was that a difficult
nobleman wanted with her and trying to decide how to manage two
people who clearly thought she was in the running to be that same
nobleman’s wife.

Not awkward, not at all.

Fortunately, she did not have to wait long
before her curiosity was satisfied as to why she was there for Lord
Talisker sought her out within fifteen minutes of her arrival,
appearing at her side with a suddenness that made her start.

‘You must be feeling guilty about
something,’ he murmured, raising a dark eyebrow at her while he
drew her discreetly to one side so they would not be overheard.

‘You startled me. Must you sneak around,
so?’ she retorted, irritated at being taken by surprise.

‘I did not sneak. A viscount does not
sneak.’

She cast him a suspicious glance, wondering
if he were being serious. It did not seem to be a very serious
thing to say and there was a gleam in those dark eyes that seemed
to suggest this was the case. ‘Have you been drinking? You seem
uncommonly cheerful tonight. It is not an outlook I am accustomed
to.’

‘You seem uncommonly irritable,’ he
returned, unperturbed.

‘That’s because I have had no less than
three nosy old tabbies sidle up to me and ask me if the rumors are
true and if I have really managed to secure the interest of a
viscount,’ she told him grimly. ‘And they have all wished me happy,
although clearly none of them can understand how a nonentity like
myself could have done any such thing.’

‘Really?’ He did not seem in the least
disturbed by this. ‘People do love to gossip but I am dismayed by
them drawing such hasty conclusions. It is so ill-bred to
speculate.’

Harry gave him a
fulminating look. Clearly he found the whole thing vastly amusing
but as far as she was concerned, it was anything but. ‘I quite
agree. So
very
ill-bred. What on earth have you been telling
people?’

He looked at her quizzically. ‘Why, nothing
at all. I merely requested that Celeste ask you here tonight. A
moment’s reflection should have told me that it probably wasn’t the
wisest course of action but I wanted to see you as soon as possible
and, as we have yet to be formally introduced, soliciting my
sister-in-law’s help seemed the most expedient course of
action.’

Harry huffed out an exasperated breath. The
most expedient course of action? Honestly! She would be suffering
from the resulting speculation for weeks. ‘Far me from me to
suggest that your behavior was foolhardy –’

‘I appreciate your restraint.’

‘ –
but you of all people
should know that an eligible man never shows an eligible woman any
particular attention unless he is particularly keen on giving rise
to conjecture,’ she said, voice severe.

‘Perhaps it will increase your cache?’

‘How charming of you to think it needs
improving.’

He smiled at this, which
was rather irritating. Truthfully, she wasn’t used to seeing the
viscount in a sunny mood and found it unexpectedly disconcerting.
Perhaps it was the way his smile made him even more attractive with
those deep brown eyes glinting down at her, highlighting unexpected
flashes of tawny gold she had not noticed before, the corners of
his eyes wrinkling up in a very appealing manner. That smile was
really extraordinarily appealing, especially when she had believed
him incapable of any such thing (except if it happened to be in the
most supercilious manner – she had assumed that, if his lordship
smiled, surely it would
have
to be supercilious). She did not want to notice
such things for it seemed to put her at a disadvantage. Her
armaments were for a man swollen with self importance.

‘You are very prickly tonight, Miss
Honeywell. My fault entirely but I do think it best that nobody
knows the circumstances behind how we actually met, don’t you?’

He had a point, of course.
As shocking as it was that they had met during the discovery of a
body, that would pale into insignificance beside the fact that she
had been out unchaperoned
and
dressed as a young lad. Some things were quite
unforgivable. Even so, she still deplored the fact that he had been
foolish enough to subject them to so much scrutiny. With London’s
watchful social set sitting up to take notice of Miss Harriet
Honeywell, she would likely feel dreadfully conspicuous in no time.
And now, more than ever, she wished to appear inconspicuous, the
better to sneak around replacing lost treasures. What a nuisance
the man was.

She sighed, knowing full well that they were
unlikely to be left alone for long. Aunt Margaret might be content
to let the conversation continue without interference – she was
obviously keen to let Harry weave whatever mysterious magic she
believed her niece was working on this most eligible of peers – but
it was doubtful the other guests would be so obliging. ‘Shall we
move on? As most of the room appears to be glancing this way, it
might be as well to get to the reason why you’ve brought me here,
don’t you think? ‘Although,’ she added dryly, ‘a simple note
suggesting a place to meet privately might have done just as
well.’

He paused and from the look on his face she
guessed that this had not even occurred to him. ‘Yes, well never
mind that now. I saw Mr. Lampforth earlier and he told me you have
something that belongs to Antony de Veer.’

‘And?’ The thought of Mr. de Veer made her
think of one of her other beneficiaries, conveniently located in
the same house as she was. Sometime during the night she must get
close enough to Olivia Messingham to return her bracelet.

‘And de Veer is a singularly unpleasant man.
It would be extremely foolhardy for you to try and give him back
his debts.’

‘I might have known,’ Harry
said, disgusted. ‘
This
is the reason you’ve ruined me in Society? To reiterate your
disapproval?’

The words startled him. ‘In what way have I
ruined you?’

‘I think I have already elaborated on
that.’

He frowned, a far more familiar expression
to Harry. ‘You’re being nonsensical. It does you no harm to be
thought of as an object of my interest.’