Kasey Michaels - How to Beguile a Beauty

Tanner shot him a dark look, but then smiled. “Remind me why I’m your friend.”

“You don’t see me in the role? I could be the black sheep with a tarnished past but a heart of gold.”

“You have a heart? That’s good to know.”

“Ouch! Now I’m wounded to the quick. But, as I seem to be a glutton for punishment, I think we have hidden my shameful self out here long enough. And if I haven’t thanked you for standing my friend in there, I do now.”

“What you need, Justin, is a new scandal, to take everyone’s attention away from you. That shouldn’t take too long, I imagine. In the meantime, you might want to consider not, well, forcing yourself on Society.”

“After this evening, I have no invitations at all, so that’s not a worry. But you’re correct. I shouldn’t be jumping back in with both feet quite so dramatically, should I?”

“I’m sorry, Justin…”

“Don’t be. I could have been hanged, you know. Having Molton and a few others dealing me the cut direct is at least not fatal. Ah, and as if I just conjured him up. Tanner, go away. You don’t need to be involved in this.”

Tanner saw Lord Molton advancing toward them, his cheeks flushed with drink and false courage. He stepped forward, putting himself between Justin and the viscount, placing his palm against his lordship’s chest. “Not the time nor the place, sir,” he warned quietly.

“Robbie Farber was m’friend.” Molton leaned around Tanner to point an accusing finger at Justin. “And he killed him, shot him down like a dog while poor Robbie stood there with an empty pistol.”

Tanner took one step to the side, once more blocking Molton’s path, staring pointedly into the man’s wild eyes. “Because he’d turned and fired on two. Do you remember that part? I do, because I was there. Farber bears at least as much blame as Justin here. Let it go. It’s over. Let the dead lie, and leave the rest of us to get on with our lives. Robbie’s death was unfortunate, but it was eight long years ago. The baron is sorry. Of course he is. We’re all sorry your friend is dead.”

Molton once more shifted his fevered gaze to the baron, who was standing with his arms at his sides, his relaxed posture and amused smile not really aiding the tense situation, and then back at Tanner. “He doesn’t care. Do you see that? He doesn’t care.”

Molton turned on his heel and stomped back inside the ballroom.

“You could have said something, offered him something,” Tanner pointed out to Justin.

“I suppose I could have, yes. We could then have asked everyone to form a line and I could apologize in turn to each and every person who thinks that firing in self-defense is a crime for which I should beg forgiveness. I apologize once, Tanner, and it would never end.”

“You challenged the man to a duel, Justin. You do remember that part, don’t you?”

“Did I have a choice? Answer me that, my friend.”

Tanner had been present to hear what Robert Farber had said about Justin’s wife. About how she had the beauty of a Venus and the sexual prowess of a block of stone, about how he could have serviced himself with more satisfaction, and saved the effort of having to talk her into bed. Robbie Farber had been an idiot, and to make such a statement in Justin’s presence could by some be considered suicide, and not murder.

“No, you had no choice. You had to defend Sheila’s honor. But you do have a choice now.”

Justin raised one well-defined eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“I don’t know what I mean. You’ve served notice that you’re back, that’s most definite. But will you continue to butt your head so forcibly up against the ton, or perhaps pull back for a space, let the ton become accustomed to seeing you in the park, on Bond Street, wherever. You seem to be trying to do it all in one go—rather pushing everyone’s faces in the fact that the Crown has pardoned you.”

“You keep saying that. And I’m beginning to understand the merit in your words. Very well, one more dance with the fair Lady Lydia, and I will take my leave.”

“Justin?”

The baron smiled and shook his head. “You’re right again. She should not be involved. Please extend my apologies to her, and excuse me as I tuck my tail between my legs and depart the scene of my latest crime.”

“Justin, for the love of God—”

“No, I’m being serious, Tanner. I should have gone directly to my estate in Hampshire, remained there as word slowly filtered back to London that I have returned, and only shown my face after a goodly amount of time had passed. Which is what I will do now.”

“You’ll leave London? When? I’m sure Lydia would wish to say goodbye.”

“I won’t be stealing out of town before dawn, Tanner. I’m sure we’ll meet again before I continue my penance in the country.”

“While wearing a specially made hair shirt from your favorite tailor, no doubt,” Tanner said, which put a smile on his friend’s face.

“We’ll meet again before I go. Oh, but before I forget. I feel the need to ask a most personal question. Are you experiencing some sort of financial pinch I might be able to help you with, my friend? And feel free to tell me to mind my own business.”

Tanner looked at him curiously. “Why would you ask that? No, I’m more than well-to-go, thanks to my father’s prudent stewardship. He wasn’t much of a father, but he did hold every penny most dear.”

“Interesting,” Justin said, glancing toward the ballroom. “So the necklace gracing your cousin’s beautiful neck is not then a part of the famous Malvern jewels?”

“The emeralds? No, they’re part of the collection. It seemed sensible to provide Jasmine with the loan of a few minor pieces for the Season. Why?”

“Why? Because they’re—no, I couldn’t be sure without my glass. Does the jewelry reside with her, or with you?”

Once again, Tanner glanced toward the ballroom. “With me. Justin, are you saying—”

“The emeralds are paste, yes, that’s what I’m saying, or trying very hard not to say. Very good paste, but paste just the same. Tomorrow at ten, Tanner? I don’t believe I have any other engagements. Most especially after I desert the dear lady whose invitation eased my way in here tonight. Perhaps I’m not a nice man, after all. I’ll bring my glass, just to be certain. But I doubt I am wrong.”

Tanner nodded mutely, and then watched as the baron made his way down the flagstone, only entering the ballroom at the end of the balcony, close to the stairs, to collect his hat and gloves and be on his way.

The duke remained where he was for several moments, mentally counting up the pieces of the Malvern jewelry he’d brought with him to town, and wondering if he should contact his solicitor for a more complete accounting of his funds.

Thomas Harburton had been keeping the journals at Malvern for nearly a decade, even while Tanner’s father was alive. He’d know if the estate was solvent, wouldn’t he? No, best not to ask him, not until he knew what questions to ask.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, the sound of violins intruding on his uncomfortable thoughts. Another set was forming, and Lydia was expecting Justin to come claim her.

He set off across the ballroom.

JASMINE HARBURTON WAS fanning herself so violently that the crimped ruffling around Lydia’s neckline was actually moving in the resultant breeze.

“We have become part and parcel to a scandal, Lady Lydia,” the girl said, her eyes wide with what could be horror, or delight. It was difficult to know with Jasmine. “I understand Tanner’s feelings of obligation—Lord knows nobody should know that more than I—but how outrageous of him to foist the baron on us both, causing the pair of us to become the center of so much attention.”