Never Love a Lord, page 4
part #4 of The Wedding Vow Series
As they neared the end of the pavement, Huber stepped in front of her and held up a hand. The driver of the lorry trundling closer yanked on his reins and came to a breathtaking stop. Riders reined in. Dust sparkled in the air.
“It is safe now, your ladyship,” Huber announced.
The drivers and riders craned their necks, as if they thought a princess royal was flouncing through their midst. Tuny smiled apologetically before raising her chin and following Huber across the circle of traffic.
Perhaps there was something to be said for traveling with an Imperial Guardsman after all.
“Is there a reason you did not wish to speak with the prince’s advisor?” Huber asked as they followed Regent’s Street around the curve, past shops with wide front windows full of all manner of goods.
“I am still determining my strategy,” Tuny told him. “That’s one of the reasons I want to speak with Lady Larissa, Lady Callie, and Lady Belle.”
He nodded at the names of the three daughters of the Duke of Wey, who had been her best friends since childhood. Larissa and Callie were betrothed to the two men he normally served. And Belle had an understanding with Owen Canady, a gentleman Huber had met at the house party earlier this month.
“Determining strategy is wise,” he allowed as they turned onto Vigo Street and the shops grew more crowded and less enticing again. “But action is better. We have little time before he gives the prince his thoughts.”
They fell silent until they reached Clarendon Square, where the duke had a fine stone townhouse. Mr. Underhill, the dark-haired, polished butler, was quick to let Tuny inside, but he narrowed his eyes at Huber.
“I did not see the royal carriage,” he mused as he shut the door behind them.
“Mr. Huber has been assigned to watch over me,” Tuny explained.
The butler’s brows went up before he carefully brought them down. “Very good, Miss Bateman.”
“Lady Moselle,” Huber ordered, hand once more on his knife hilt, as if he suspected Mr. Underhill of hiding a dagger under his black tailcoat.
The butler went so far as to bow to Tuny. “Forgive me, your ladyship. I had quite forgotten. May I be one of the first to congratulate you on your elevation? Well deserved.”
Much more of this, and her face would be flaming. “Thank you, Mr. Underhill. Where might I find Larissa, Callie, and Belle this afternoon?”
“In the library, your ladyship. Shall I announce you?”
“No need. I know the way.” She took a step, and Huber fell in beside her. Tuny jerked to a stop.
“Stay,” she said, pointing at a corner of the entry hall. “There. I doubt anyone would trouble me in the home of a duke.”
He seemed content with the thought as well, for he positioned himself in a corner of the entry hall where he could see the door, the corridor, and the stairs.
Tuny ventured down to the library. It was a cozy space, lined with bookcases and dotted with upholstered chairs that begged one to sit and read.
“The lady of the day!” Belle heralded from where she stood perusing the books, her pearly pink skirts eclipsing the dark wood shelves.
“Lady Moselle,” Callie agreed with a grin from her spot at the desk, her green gown like a spot of grass in the room.
“Lady Annoyed, more like,” Tuny said, dropping down on the chair closest to Larissa. “Truly, what was Leo thinking?”
“That you are a rare gem and worthy of acclaim,” Larissa said, arranging her own blue plaid skirts.
Tuny snorted. “So worthy he assigns me to charm Lord Ashforde.”
“Ooh!” Belle snapped shut the book she’d selected and ventured closer, golden curls bobbing. “I hadn’t heard that part.”
“I had,” Callie said, surprising no one. She had an innate ability to remain unremarked in company, and people tended to say things in her presence they would have avoided otherwise.
“Leo is hoping Tuny can persuade Lord Ashforde to see his side of things,” Larissa explained as her two sisters seated themselves on the remaining chairs.
Belle frowned. “But you abhor Lord Ashforde.”
She had lounged in these chairs any number of times and never found one so hard. “I don’t abhor him. I’m just not comfortable with him. But I want to help Leo, and his father, regain their lands, so I must find a way to speak to Lord Ashforde. The question is, how?”
Larissa spread her hands. “Simply open the topic of conversation and present your case.”
“And Leo can’t do that?” Tuny demanded.
Larissa colored. “Leo has tried. Lord Ashforde is reticent.”
“Lord Ashforde,” Tuny said, “is always reticent.”
Callie cocked her head, pale curl brushing one cheek. “But he favors you. Remember how he bid for that painting at our benefit for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals?”
How could she forget? She and Callie had sponsored a dinner and art auction to raise funds for the society. Lord Ashforde and Owen Canady had fought fiercely over one particular painting, until his lordship had bid an outrageous amount. And he’d looked right at Tuny while doing so. It was as if he were throwing down a glove to challenge her to a duel.
“That doesn’t mean he favors me,” Tuny told her friend. “He likes getting his own way. That’s all.”
“Is it?” Belle asked, glancing among them. “He seemed attentive at the house party.”
So much so that she’d had to pretend affection for Owen to keep him at bay.
“He was only being polite,” Tuny insisted. “Who else was he to pursue when it became clear that Owen was in love with you, not me?”
Larissa was watching her. “Tuny, I know you are certain he cannot care for you, but you’ve never explained why. I don’t want to pry…”
“Then don’t,” Tuny said.
“It’s all right,” Callie said quietly. “We care about you, Tuny. If he’s done something horrid, we’ll be on your side.”
“And if he’s done something particularly horrid, I’m sure your brother can show him the error of his ways,” Belle reminded her.
Tuny couldn’t help her chuckle. “I keep thinking about that, too.” She sobered. “I know I told you I fancied myself in love with Lord Ashforde, but I never shared the rest of the story with anyone.”
Her dear friends waited patiently. So patiently. She drew in a breath. “It was my first Season, and he was the finest fellow I’d ever seen. You remember how surprised I was when he showed interest, Larissa.”
Larissa smiled. “You said it must be your lucky day.”
Callie glanced at her sister. “Oh, very good. I’m usually the one who remembers.”
“He was hard to forget,” Tuny said. “He was so attentive. And sometimes, when he looked at me, I thought I was the most beautiful girl in the room.”
“Oh, Tuny,” Belle said with a happy sigh.
“It wasn’t true,” Tuny told her, the pain crashing in on her anew. “It was all in my mind.”
“But how can you be sure?” Belle persisted.
“Because he told me so in no uncertain terms. We were out in the garden at one of Lady Carrolton’s soirees, and we stopped in the moonlight, and I was certain he was going to kiss me and propose. My hopes must have shown on my face, for he said he was sorry he’d given me expectations and he had no intention of offering for me.”
“The dastard!” Belle cried, and Callie nodded.
Larissa reached out a hand to hers. “I’m so sorry, Tuny. That’s cruel.”
“It was honest,” she said, hurt burning like a coal in her chest. “I wasn’t good enough to be his baroness. Girls like me shouldn’t fall in love with men like him. What lord wants a wife whose father worked in a mill and died drunk in a ditch?”
“Where your father worked and how he died has nothing to do with you,” Larissa said, in such ringing tones that no one would have argued with her. “You have sterling qualities any husband should prize. Intelligence, kindness…”
“Practicality,” Callie offered.
“Loyalty,” Belle put in.
“I’m a paragon, I am,” Tuny said.
“Yes, you are,” Larissa said. “I had no idea that Lord Ashforde was so very dull-witted that he missed that, and I’m sorry Leo asked you to speak to him. I’ll tell Leo to find another.”
“Is there another?” Tuny asked hopefully.
Her friend smiled ruefully. “Likely not as well positioned as you. But I’m sure Leo will contrive.”
Perhaps he could. And perhaps he couldn’t. If Tuny’s silence cost him his kingdom, how could she live with that? And Lord Ashforde had been more congenial lately.
“No,” she said. “I’ll do it. I merely have to determine a location and time that suits me. No more dark gardens and private walks. Not that I could have one with an Imperial Guardsman at my side.”
Callie grimaced. “I told Fritz that wasn’t necessary. He insisted, and Leo agreed. They don’t want you in any danger because of this assignment. They might have assigned a guard to Lord Ashforde as well, but that might have made it appear as if they were trying to hold him hostage.”
“I understand,” Tuny said, “even if I don’t like it much. And having a guard at my side will serve to keep Lord Ashforde at a respectable distance.”
“What you need is a public location where you can bump into him and have a conversation,” Belle mused, tapping her chin with one finger. “Unfortunately, I haven’t seen him at many events.”
“He’s more like Father,” Callie said. “A bit of a hermit. He may need an excuse to attend.”
“Then we will give him one,” Larissa said. “Mother and Father are hosting a ball on Saturday. I’ll make sure he’s on the guest list. We can work on him then.”
Tuny sent her a look. “We?”
“Of course,” Larissa said. “You didn’t think we’d leave you alone on this assignment, did you?”
“What are friends for but to plot triumphs?” Belle agreed.
Tuny smiled all around, feeling pounds lighter than when she’d entered. “Thank you. I begin to hope we’ll have some success after all. Lord Ashforde won’t know what hit him.”
^^^
“Is everything all right, my lord?” Peaves asked late Wednesday morning.
Ash kept his gaze on the shelf of books in front of him. Amazing how rearranging titles both calmed the nerves and inspired the spirit. He hadn’t read Thomas Brown’s Lectures on the Philosophy of the Human Mind for a while. He would have to remedy that. And how had he forgotten how much he enjoyed the Scotch novels? Surely the author had something new out. His favorite clerk at Hatchards Bookshop would know.
“Fine, Peaves,” he told his butler. “Was there something you needed?”
“Well,” his man said, and Ash heard tentative footsteps across the polished wood floor, “Mrs. Clowers is wondering whether you will be wanting tea. I understand she has a lovely seed cake she could serve with it.”
“Tell her not to go to any trouble,” Ash said, reaching up for a book. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“Yes, my lord.” Once more, his man sounded disappointed. The footsteps retreated.
They worried. They fretted. Many of his staff remembered the dark days of his father, when the former Lord Ashforde might not return home for days, and, when he did, he would be in no fit shape to deal with decisions. Truth be told, he hadn’t been much use in making decisions even on the good days. For his father, life had been about pleasure, indulgence. Anything else was simply a waste of time.
At the moment, was he any better? He knew what must be done. And he stood in the library and sorted books.
The footsteps returned, firmer, with greater purpose.
“Yes?” Ash asked. “Has Mrs. Clowers remembered she has a fine Stilton cheese as well?”
“No, my lord,” Peaves said. “Lord Wellmanton is here to see you. Where would you like to receive him?”
Not whether he wished to speak to the fellow but where. Still, Peaves was right. It wouldn’t do to be, well, peevish. A smile tugged at his lips.
He flattened it and turned. “You may show him into the library, Peaves.”
His butler’s look was triumphant. “Very good, my lord.”
Ash had just taken his seat behind the desk his father had never bothered to use when the older lord strolled in. Wellmanton always dressed his ample frame soberly, somberly, but his round face was forever beaming, and even the light grey of his well-combed hair seemed to gleam.
Ash nodded him into the chair in front of the desk. “Wellmanton. How might I be of assistance?”
“Assistance?” He paused in the act of sitting. “No, no, you mistake me, my boy. I’m here to offer you assistance.”
Ash leaned back in the chair. “I wasn’t aware I required any.”
“Perhaps not yet,” Wellmanton allowed, settling himself in the seat as if he planned to stay a while. “But you will soon. The Batavarians have ears everywhere.” He glanced around the library as if expecting to find Prince Otto Leopold or his brother hiding behind a shelf.
“I can think of nothing I’ve said or done that would offend,” Ash said.
“Of course not,” Wellmanton agreed, smile once more affable. “You are well known for your sagacity, your tempered consideration. It is not in you to offend.”
He could think of one he had offended all too well, but he wasn’t about to mention her to the viscount. “Then why do you offer assistance?”
Wellmanton eased forward on the chair. “Because it is well known that you and I are among those chosen to advise His Majesty on this Batavarian question. Some will seek to influence us.”
Ash shrugged. “They are welcome to try.”
“And they will try,” Wellmanton assured him. “Make no mistake. You may be offered honors, funds, to sway your decision.”
Ash shook his head. “I have a title that suits me, and I am content with the funds I have.”
“So it would seem,” Wellmanton said with an envying look about the beautifully appointed room. “But there are other ways to convince you to speak their words. A Shakespearean First Folio, perhaps?”
Ash nodded across the room. “I have one.”
“A Thoroughbred foal.”
“I have two at my estate near Cheshunt.”
Again Wellmanton inched forward. “The Ashforde rubies?”
Ash frowned. Prince Otto Leopold could not have laid his hands on the set of rubies Ash’s father had sold to finance his lavish style. Even the Bow Street Runner Ash had hired to look into the matter had discovered few leads. Was this conversation about what the prince might offer him?
Or about what Wellmanton could offer him?
“As much as I would like to recover my family’s jewels, I am unwilling to change my opinion,” Ash told his visitor. “You may rest assured that no one will bribe me in that regard.”
Wellmanton sat back at last. “Good to know, good to know. And what of the ladies? I am certain His Royal Highness would not be above sending a seductress to tempt you. I would not want you to be swayed by a pretty face any more than you were swayed by pretty words.”
Ash offered him a smile. “You have no need to worry on that score. No lady exists that would prevent me from relying on logic to make a decision.”
Chapter Five
Tuny was almost glad that Mr. Roth was on duty during the day Wednesday. One of the more senior of the Imperial Guards, he had coal-black hair and steely grey eyes that could narrow to rapiers of suspicion. She had a feeling Lord Ashforde might finally have met his match when it came to arrogance.
But she returned from a brief stroll of Covent Garden market with Betsy to find that she had missed Lord Ashforde entirely, and she could not understand why that fact made the day seem less bright. She ought to be relieved that she didn’t have to spend time looking at his handsome face, listening to his intelligent conversation, wondering if their hands might meet.
Oh!
Mr. Tanner was on evening duty. Of the members of the Imperial Guard, she had had the least contact with him, but she was pleased to see he was a presentable fellow with russet hair a shade darker than Charlotte’s and a ready grin. If the Season had been in full swing, he would have had to accompany her to some soiree or ball. As it was, most of the fine lords and ladies were rusticating at their country estates and avoiding the last heat of summer in London. Only a few had begun trickling back because it was rumored the Prime Minister might bring up the Batavarian question during a special session, if the king’s advisors could not ease his mind.
Daphne and Rose were delighted that Huber returned on Thursday. They must have been watching from the upstairs window, for they escaped Mrs. Quince again to come pelting down the stairs to welcome him.
“Really, your ladyship,” Tuny heard the governess say to Charlotte when she must have noticed her charges’ disappearance, “I do not see how I can keep working under these conditions. People coming and going at all hours. Tiny living quarters so far from my charges. Armed guards in the house. It’s made me feel quite unwell.”
Charlotte sighed. “Take the rest of the day off. Perhaps you’ll feel better tomorrow.”
Tuny resigned herself to helping her sister-in-law deal with the two little girls.
As Mrs. Quince toddled away with shaky steps, Huber rose from where he had crouched while speaking to Daphne and Rose.
“That woman is not good with children,” he informed Charlotte. “Miss Winchester is seeking a permanent post. Hire her instead.”
Charlotte’s brows climbed. “I am unused to being ordered about by the Imperial Guard, sir.”
He had the good sense to look abashed. “Forgive me. It was not my place. But your daughters are bright and adventurous. These are traits to be nurtured, not denigrated. I know Miss Winchester would agree.”
