Stephanie Laurens - A Gentleman's Honor

Sinking onto the chaise, Alicia clasped her hands in her lap. Both Kit and Leonora looked at her; she drew breath and stated, “In light of the difficulties A. C. seems intent on causing, Torrington has asked me to consider moving this household to Upper Brook Street. To his house.”

Leonora opened her eyes wide.

Kit frowned, tapped her fingers on the chair arm. “Who else is resident there?”

“A widowed cousin and her two young daughters—ten and twelve—are expected tomorrow.”

Leonora’s face cleared; she glanced at Kit. “It would certainly be—” She looked at Alicia and grimaced. “I was going to say an improvement, but by that I mean that while this address is perfectly respectable, Upper Brook Street would place you in the heart of the ton. It would be a statement in itself.”

“Indeed,” Kit agreed. “And given we suspect A. C. knows the ropes quite well, it’s a statement he’ll understand.” She shifted, her bluey violet eyes studying Alicia.

“I know Torrington House—Jack and Tony are old friends. It’s a huge mansion, and currently only Tony lives there—you can imagine him rattling around like a pea in a cauldron. And it’s fully staffed—he’s never been able to bring himself to let anyone go, even though there’s really no call for three parlormaids when there’s only a bachelor to cater for. From what I’ve seen of his butler, Hungerford, he’ll be in alt at the prospect of having a houseful of people to organize for again.”

“It sounds like an excellent suggestion.” Leonora looked at Alicia. “And it certainly sounds as if your household—boys and all—will fit.”

Alicia studied their faces. There was not the slightest hint that either saw anything in any way remotely socially unacceptable in the notion of her living at Torrington House. In the end, she put her question directly. “You don’t think it will be seen as scandalous—my living there?”

Leonora opened her eyes wide, clearly surprised by the question. “With his cousin in residence, I really can’t see why anyone would disapprove.”

She glanced at Kit, who nodded in agreement.

They both looked at Alicia. She summoned a smile. “I see. Thank you.”

Adriana came in, a stunning breath of fresh air in a frilled gown of white muslin sprigged with blue. “Ready?”

The three ladies seated smiled and rose. Linking arms, they headed for Lady Mott’s.

How he managed to keep his tongue between his teeth Tony didn’t know, but he held his peace on the subject of the move for the entire evening.

Kit helped. She swanned up to him in Lady Humphries’ ballroom and claimed his arm for a waltz. Alicia laughed and waved them away, remaining chatting with a group of others, all sufficiently harmless. Reluctantly, he let Kit lead him to the floor.

“Mission accomplished,” she informed him the instant they were safely revolving. “And I was superbly subtle, I’ll have you know. I didn’t even have to mention it—she asked, and Leonora and I reassured her. We told her it was an excellent idea.”

She smiled at him. “So next time Jack’s being difficult about something, remember—you owe me.”

He humphed and whirled her about, and forbore to mention that if Jack was being difficult about something, he’d almost certainly agree with him. “How did she take it?” he asked when they were once more precessing sedately up the room.

Kit frowned. “I’m not sure, but the impression I got was that her resistance stemmed primarily from a concern that in accepting your invitation she’d be committing some sort of social solecism.” She looked up at him. “She’s more or less on her own, with no older lady to guide her. For what it’s worth, I don’t think her resistance is all that entrenched.”

“Good.”

They spoke no more of it; at the end of the dance, he returned Kit to Jack’s side.

Jack sent a significant glance his way. “I’ll be dropping by that other venue later. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow if I learn anything to the point.”

He’d lowered his voice, directed his words specifically to Tony, yet Kit caught not only the words, but their sub-text. “What point? What other venue?”

Jack looked into her narrowing eyes. “Just a little business matter.”

“Oh? Whose business?” Kit sweetly inquired.

“A. C.’s?”

“Sssh!” Jack glanced around, but there was no one close enough to hear.

Kit saw her advantage and pressed it, drilling one finger into Jack’s chest. “If you imagine you’re going out skulking tonight alone , then you’ll need to promise to inform not just Tony but all of us of anything you discover.”

Curling his hand around hers, Jack scowled at her. “You’ll learn soon enough.”

Kit opened her eyes wide. “When you deign to tell us? Thank you, but no—I much prefer to set a time and place for your revelations.”

Tony nearly choked; he was privy to the story of what had happened in the early days of their marriage, when Jack had refused to tell Kit what he was involved in. Clearly, Kit had not forgotten. From the look on Jack’s face, one of chagrin and uneasy uncertainty, he hadn’t either.

When Jack glanced at him, Kit cut in, “And you needn’t look to Tony for support.” She fixed her violet eyes on him. “He already owes Leonora and me a favor. A very telltale favor.”

In her eyes, he read a threat of doom should he fail to capitulate. He sighed and glanced at Jack. “I was going to suggest the club, but let’s make it my library. What time?”

Jack humphed. “I’ll send word first thing in the morning, once I know what I’ve managed to find.”

Kit beamed at them both. “See? It doesn’t hurt.”

Jack snorted. Tony fought down a grin. He chatted for a while, then headed back up the ballroom to Alicia, still safe within Adriana’s circle.

Which circle was growing less and less intent as more of those aspiring to Adriana’s attention vis à vis claiming her hand took note of the glances she shared with Geoffrey, and sloped off to pay court to someone else. One gentleman who remained apparently oblivious of the clear firming of Adriana’s intention was Sir Freddie Caudel.

As he drew near, Tony wondered if Sir Freddie was biding his time, perhaps thinking to give Adriana more experience of the ton before making his offer, or if he was instead merely using her as a convenient and unthreatening excuse to avoid all other possible candidates. If the man hadn’t spoken yet…but then, he himself and Geoffrey were of a more direct generation.

Sir Freddie had been conversing with Alicia. He saw Tony approaching, smiled benignly, and excused himself as Tony joined her.

She turned to him, raised a brow. Wariness showed behind the green of her eyes; with an easy smile, he claimed her hand, set it on his sleeve, and inquired if she’d like to stroll.

She agreed, and they did. Because of the many eyes fixed on them courtesy of the story on so many lips, it was impossible to slip away. Resigned, he reminded himself of the true purpose behind their evening’s endeavors and conducted her to chat with the next fashionable lady waiting to have her say.

They caught up with his godmother in the Athelstans’ ballroom. Dispatched to fetch refreshments, he left Alicia seated on the chaise beside Lady Amery and shouldered his way into the crowd.

Alicia watched him go, then drew breath and turned to Lady Amery. “I hope you won’t think me presumptuous, ma’am, but I need advice, and as the person most nearly concerned is Torrington…”

She and Lady Amery were alone on the small chaise; there was no one else close enough to hear—and she might never have another such opportunity to ask the one person in London who held Tony’s welfare closest to her heart.