Beloved by Stella Cameron Page A

to come to her aid if ever she needed him. There would be no peace for him until he proved to her that he could not
     fulfill his promise because he was a changed man.
    “Do you know what they say of you here in London?” Saber frowned at Devlin. “No doubt you will tell me.”
    “They say that you and Margot are lovers, that you are her protector. Suggestions are made that the mysterious Earl of Avenall
     has unusual sexual preferences and that you pay Countess Perruche well to fulfill them.”
    “Who are these chatterers to whom you refer?” He was aware that there was some talk, of course, but not that he’d become of
     any great interest to the
ton
.
    “
They
are those who matter, Saber. You know how perverse our incestuous little circle of the Blessed is. The Upper-ofthe-Upper
     feeds upon morsels such as a beautiful, widowed countess who spends large amounts of time with a reclusive earl—alone—in his
     house.”
    “Let them feed.”
    Devlin shrugged. “I’m simply warning you of what you will confront if you decide to proceed with this plan of yours to go
     about again.”
    “I never said I intended to go about again. One clandestine foray doesn’t mean I shall make a habit of frequenting such absurd
     affairs. Not that my presence will be missed.”
    “
Au contraire.
You have become the most whispered about rake in Town.”
    “Rake?” Saber asked, amazed. “In God’s name. They call me a rake?”
    “Indeed. The enigmatic Saber, Earl of Avenall. The man your downy chicks cheep about behind their fans—and exchange deliciously
     titillating speculations about behind their mamas’ backs. And their mamas are clucking about you, too, my friend. After all,
     you’re quite a catch, old man.”
    “How can I be—”
    “You are,” Devlin said, interrupting. “I would not tell you lies. The moment you put in your appearance, you will be on every
     husband-hunting parent’s list. At the top of their lists. So, be warned.”
    “And what of you?” Saber asked shortly. “Who doesn’t at least guess at the depth of your pockets? North of the shipping Norths,
     they must say. Man’s related to Midas. Wonder you’re still a free man.”
    Devlin raised his arms and stretched. “Let’s say I sympathize with you, old chap. Fighting ’em off left and right is such
     a bore—but I manage.”
    Saber could not help but be amused. “As you say. I’ve no doubt you manage very well. However, I shall leave the pleasure to
     you. There is only one thing I need to accomplish here—with your help. I want to meet with Ella. Alone.” He indicated the
     chamber behind him. “I will be in there.”
    Devlin dropped his arms. “I say. I’m hardly going to find it easy to get a gel to come upstairs with me on her own.”
    “You’ll find a way,” Saber told him. “Pull her aside and give her this.”
    “What is it?” Devlin asked, looking at the folded square of paper Saber had pushed into his hand.
    “Ella rather likes notes. She sends a great many of them. One more should cause her no particular surprise.”
    “But—”
    “Find a way to give her the note. Make a suitable opportunity for her to come to me. The matter will then be finished, I assure
     you. After tonight she will shudder at the very mention of my name.”
    Ella wished she could close her eyes and be somewhere far away when she opened them again. The handsome Earl of Eagleton and
     his lovely wife had greeted Mama and Papa as old friends. Lady Eagleton had treated Ella with particular kindness, but everything
     else about their elaborate soiree was horrid.
    Why couldn’t she go home to Scotland? Now that she knew she must give up on Saber, there was no point in remaining in London.
    Mama nudged her and murmured, “Chin up, Ella, please. And
do
smile. James and Celine will think you are not enjoying yourself.”
    “I’m not,” Ella whispered back vehemently. “They are a charming couple. They also don’t appear to notice anyone or