fluttered. “Nonsense. He’s merely angry at me for cutting him, and this is his diabolical way of gaining revenge.”
Penelope thought about that for a moment. “You may be right,” she conceded, “though I think you’re simply overcome. I know I am, and I wasn’t even at the center of it.”
“I wish I hadn’t been. I have no desire to anger His Grace.”
“Lilith.” Her father stalked up to the two of them. “Your brother is a complete idiot.”
“Yes, Papa, I know.”
The viscount nodded stiffly at Penelope. “Apologies, Miss Sanford, but I must collect Lilith.” He took his daughter’s arm. “Best if we not stay about, with Wenford in such a foul mood.”
Finally they were in agreement over the duke. “Papa, has His Grace spoken to you about—”
“We’ll discuss it later, daughter.”
“Lil,” Pen said, taking her hand, “Mama and I’ve asked Lady Georgina Longstreet to the Vauxhall Gardens soirée tomorrow evening. Do come with us.”
Lilith had little liking for the rowdy crowds of the Gardens, and she started to decline. “I—”
“Will Lady Georgina’s mother be in attendance?” Lord Hamble cut in.
“I don’t know if the marchioness will accompany us or not,” Pen replied. “She was invited, of course.”
“Lilith would be delighted to attend,” the viscount answered for her.
No doubt he wanted the ton to see her in the company of the marchioness and her daughter, especially after tonight’s unpleasantness. And in truth, it would be more fun than sitting at home and having Aunt Eugenia deliver another of her endless lectures on propriety and etiquette, as though Lilith hadn’t memorized absolutely everything by now. She smiled. “I’d love to go.”
Aunt Eugenia waited for them at the entryway, outraged indignation on her thin alabaster face. “The nerve of that man,” she snapped, “to practically assault His Grace that way. He’s very bad ton , and I can’t believe he’s still allowed to roam free, after everything he’s done.” She glared at her brother. “And your own son is hanging after him like a dog looking for a bone. For shame, Stephen. Mrs. Pindlewide has already remarked on it, and her husband is very influential with Lord Liverpool.”
“William’s association with that blackguard will end as soon as the fool returns home,” Viscount Hamble returned stiffly.
Lilith could only hope he was right. The more distance placed between Jack Faraday and herself, the safer she would feel.
Chapter 4
N ine o’clock in the morning was far too early for visitors, but the Marquis of Dansbury had a very good idea of who must be pounding at his front door. With a groan he sat up and rubbed his temples. William Benton had grumbled and whined to be taken to the Society club, and rather than listen to the continuous drivel, Jack had given in, little liking as he had for the snobberies there. His aching head was proof enough that his encounter with the Duke of Wenford had irritated him more than he had realized. The Remdale clan always seemed to bring out the worst in him.
His valet scratched tentatively at the door. “My lord?”
“Come in, Martin. I’m awake, and fairly civilized this morning.”
Martin stepped into the room and handed over a cup of hot, strong American coffee, generally used to placate him when his mood was less civilized. Jack took a grateful sip as his valet headed for the mahogany wardrobe. His servants were a generally impudent bunch, which was how he liked it, and Martin would get around to telling him who was at the door in his own good time.
“Which demeanor do you wish to present this morning, my lord?”
Or perhaps he wouldn’t tell . “Who’s at the blasted door, Martin?” he growled.
“Peese says it’s Randolph Remdale. He’s waiting, quite impatiently, I believe, in the morning room. I had thought him a gentleman of good breeding, but to come calling at this hour, I must say—”
“The nephew, hm?” Jack
Penelope thought about that for a moment. “You may be right,” she conceded, “though I think you’re simply overcome. I know I am, and I wasn’t even at the center of it.”
“I wish I hadn’t been. I have no desire to anger His Grace.”
“Lilith.” Her father stalked up to the two of them. “Your brother is a complete idiot.”
“Yes, Papa, I know.”
The viscount nodded stiffly at Penelope. “Apologies, Miss Sanford, but I must collect Lilith.” He took his daughter’s arm. “Best if we not stay about, with Wenford in such a foul mood.”
Finally they were in agreement over the duke. “Papa, has His Grace spoken to you about—”
“We’ll discuss it later, daughter.”
“Lil,” Pen said, taking her hand, “Mama and I’ve asked Lady Georgina Longstreet to the Vauxhall Gardens soirée tomorrow evening. Do come with us.”
Lilith had little liking for the rowdy crowds of the Gardens, and she started to decline. “I—”
“Will Lady Georgina’s mother be in attendance?” Lord Hamble cut in.
“I don’t know if the marchioness will accompany us or not,” Pen replied. “She was invited, of course.”
“Lilith would be delighted to attend,” the viscount answered for her.
No doubt he wanted the ton to see her in the company of the marchioness and her daughter, especially after tonight’s unpleasantness. And in truth, it would be more fun than sitting at home and having Aunt Eugenia deliver another of her endless lectures on propriety and etiquette, as though Lilith hadn’t memorized absolutely everything by now. She smiled. “I’d love to go.”
Aunt Eugenia waited for them at the entryway, outraged indignation on her thin alabaster face. “The nerve of that man,” she snapped, “to practically assault His Grace that way. He’s very bad ton , and I can’t believe he’s still allowed to roam free, after everything he’s done.” She glared at her brother. “And your own son is hanging after him like a dog looking for a bone. For shame, Stephen. Mrs. Pindlewide has already remarked on it, and her husband is very influential with Lord Liverpool.”
“William’s association with that blackguard will end as soon as the fool returns home,” Viscount Hamble returned stiffly.
Lilith could only hope he was right. The more distance placed between Jack Faraday and herself, the safer she would feel.
Chapter 4
N ine o’clock in the morning was far too early for visitors, but the Marquis of Dansbury had a very good idea of who must be pounding at his front door. With a groan he sat up and rubbed his temples. William Benton had grumbled and whined to be taken to the Society club, and rather than listen to the continuous drivel, Jack had given in, little liking as he had for the snobberies there. His aching head was proof enough that his encounter with the Duke of Wenford had irritated him more than he had realized. The Remdale clan always seemed to bring out the worst in him.
His valet scratched tentatively at the door. “My lord?”
“Come in, Martin. I’m awake, and fairly civilized this morning.”
Martin stepped into the room and handed over a cup of hot, strong American coffee, generally used to placate him when his mood was less civilized. Jack took a grateful sip as his valet headed for the mahogany wardrobe. His servants were a generally impudent bunch, which was how he liked it, and Martin would get around to telling him who was at the door in his own good time.
“Which demeanor do you wish to present this morning, my lord?”
Or perhaps he wouldn’t tell . “Who’s at the blasted door, Martin?” he growled.
“Peese says it’s Randolph Remdale. He’s waiting, quite impatiently, I believe, in the morning room. I had thought him a gentleman of good breeding, but to come calling at this hour, I must say—”
“The nephew, hm?” Jack
Similar Books
