The Diamond Key by Barbara Metzger

voice, as if poor taste were her only reason for rejecting so ardent a suitor. Torrie noted that his own waistcoat was a light gray, with narrow dark blue stripes that matched his Bath superfine coat.
    “No,” she said. “I have other reasons for believing that Lord Boyce is not the man for me.” He was foolish and boring and narrow-minded, to list a few, but mostly she did not love him.
    “Well, I am not the man for you, either.”
    She held firm to her beliefs, and to the talisman at her neck. “I asked for a favor, and you arrived.”
    “You were not making a bargain with your maker, then, you were cutting a deal with the devil.” He held his arms out. “Look what such a foolish barter brought you. You should have negotiated for better terms, if you were wagering your soul.”
    “I was hoping to live,” she said softly. “And I see a gentleman, I think, one who is better than some. Many men would have leaped at the thought of wedding my father’s wealth.”
    “You see a man worse than most, barely entitled to be called a gentleman. Forget your smoke-born fancies. They were phantasms, only. Why, I am not even accepted in your world.”
    “You would be, with my father’s help.”
    “I make my own way.” He turned his back on her then, calling the dog to heel so they could leave. “And you know nothing about me.”
    “I know they say you killed a man in a duel.”
    “They say a great many things.”
    Torrie noted that he had not outright denied the charge. She had no way of finding what she needed to know except by asking, and nothing to lose now except a primrose plant the dog kept digging at. “Did you murder Lord Lynbrook?”
    “I shot him. He died. Does that answer your question?”
    Not exactly. Torrie persisted. Although the viscount still faced away, he had not left yet. “No one is certain if the duel was fought over his wife or his mistress.”
    “Why not both? The ton certainly considered me capable of it.”
    “If you were the guilty party, they say, you should have deloped.”
    “What, and let that dastard shoot me? That is the most buffle-headed thing you have said yet, my girl. He would have shot me through the heart, yes, and left me lying in the field for the crows to pick. Even my fate was better than that.”
    “But you were the one blamed.”
    “Lynbrook and his brother had the ear of the king’s ministers, who decided to make an example to other wild youths. As a second son, I was considered expendable in the name of justice. Since my own family believed the worst, they were pleased to have me shipped off, rather than be held to trial where I might have defended myself. The gossip would die down faster that way,” he added in a bitter tone.
    “So your actions were defensible.”
    He did not answer, but Torrie could see the way his shoulders straightened and his head rose. Here was a proud man, not ashamed of his deeds. Either he was totally without scruples, or he believed he was right. More thankful than ever that Aunt Ann had stayed inside, Torrie dared to ask: “Tell me, my lord, do you approve of a married man keeping a mistress?”
    He spun around. “Good grief, have times changed so much since I have been gone that gentlewomen speak of such matters in public?”
    Torrie could feel the blush rising in her cheeks, but she answered, “We are not in public, sir.”
    “Where is that devil-spawned dog?” Ingall muttered, calling out to Homer again. The dog ran over, and jumped in Lady Victoria’s lap, leaving muddy footprints on the pink silk. “Dash it, I am sorry. Let me—”
    She clutched the dog closer, bent on holding it hostage until she had her answers. “You were giving me your opinions, my lord?”
    He was giving her a set-down and they both knew it, but the viscount answered, more or less: “Do I approve of a married man having a light skirt in his keeping? I do not believe a man has the right to keep his wife pregnant every year of their marriage, until