My Lord Murderer by Elizabeth Mansfield

Still, it was surprising that he had declared himself so vehemently and then dropped from her life. Perhaps he’d reconsidered—regretted his impulsive behavior and realized that it would be useless to persist. Gwen admitted to herself that she felt disappointed at his withdrawal. He should have put up a stronger fight for her. Oh, she would have enjoyed refusing him again!
    She had imagined that he would pursue her all over London, and she had pictured several delightful scenes in which she would revenge herself upon him. He would approach her at Almack’s, and she would give him the cut direct. And all the dowagers would snicker at him behind their fans, and his friends would turn away from him in embarrassment. Or he would ride up beside her in the park, and she would send him away with a sharp rebuff, turn her horse, and gallop off—leaving him red-faced and miserable in a cloud of dust. Or he would find her alone in a side sitting-room of the house of a mutual acquaintance, and he would fall on his knees before her and plead his case, but she would merely laugh scornfully, and he would stumble out of the room and run from the house in despair.
    These were childish imaginings, she knew. It was far better that he’d withdrawn from the campaign. The best course for her was to put him firmly from her mind. She whipped the covers off with an air of determination and jumped out of bed. From this moment on, she would banish him from her life and her thoughts. And for that, she needed to arrange for herself a very, very busy day.
    Lady Hazel had also arranged a busy day for herself. She did not often leave the comfort of the house, but today she determined to pay a call. She told Gwen that she was going to pay a call on Lady Ogilvie, although she had no such intention. Gwen kindly offered to accompany her, but this would interfere with Hazel’s plan. Lady Hazel knew, however, that Gwen found Bess Ogilvie a dreadful bore, so it was not difficult to urge her to remain behind. Hazel had never before lied to Gwen, but she hoped the end would justify the means.
    It was a little past eleven when she knocked at the door of the Selby house in St. James Square. When the butler opened the door, she saw Lady Hester standing in the hallway tying on her bonnet. “Oh, dear,” Hazel said in obvious disappointment. “You are going out.”
    “Lady Rowle!” Hetty exclaimed, running to the door and grasping Hazel’s hands. “How lovely to see you!”
    “Thank you, my dear, but I don’t want to keep you…” Hazel began.
    “Nonsense. I was only going to call on that detestable brother of mi—” Hetty said unthinkingly, then stopped in embarrassment.
    Lady Hazel patted her hand. “Then of course you must go. I won’t have you keeping that charming young man waiting on my account.”
    Hetty looked at Lady Hazel in surprise. “Do you know my brother, ma’am?” she asked hesitantly.
    “I had the pleasure of meeting him briefly a few weeks ago, when he came to … er … call on my daughter-in-law. I must admit I was quite taken with him.”
    “It’s very kind of you to say so … under the circumstances,” Hetty said with appealing frankness.
    “Not at all,” Lady Hazel said crisply. “We must not permit a tragic accident to cause unnecessary bitterness between our families.”
    “Oh, Lady Rowle,” said Hetty, reaching up and hugging the older woman impulsively, “you are so good! So good!”
    “But you must hurry along, Lady Selby. I believe I hear your carriage at the door.”
    “I shall send it back to the stables, of course. I can visit with Drew at any time. Please go into the drawing room, Lady Rowle, and I’ll join you in a moment.”
    “Well, if you’re sure Drew won’t miss you…” Hazel murmured in relief, and turned to do as she was bid.
    When, a few minutes later, Hetty joined her guest in the drawing room, she found Lady Hazel looking about the room with interest. Hetty, always pursuing the latest