Page 14 of Any Rogue Will Do
“Unless you know of another buxom, dark-haired woman who looks as if she’s gone a few rounds in a boxing ring, then yes.” Cal’s expression was far too smug.
Both men stared out the window at the gray stone facade of the house in question.
“London just got more interesting, aye?” The woman who’d been running circles through his thoughts had moved in across the lane from his best friend. What a small world. If he was given the opportunity to see her again, would his disturbing dreams die down? Perhaps his body was telling him there was unfinished business with the brunette. “Uh, you may choose tae read more into this, but brewery business may bring me tae Town more often before the Season. Connor informed me before I left that we need a new brewmaster.”
“My guest room is available for your use, as always. Stay as long as you like. I enjoy the company. The Puppy shows up in the mornings to fence in the gallery and shuffle papers about on the desk over there. But once he leaves, I rattle around the place with only Higgins for conversation,” Cal said.
“I can’t believe you call Hardwick the Puppy. Some friend you are.”
“It fits. You know how he’s all legs and floppy feet? Puppy. Hardwick’s a good sport. Besides, I pay his salary, so I can get away with it. The lad is wet behind the ears but solid.” No doubt the young steward in charge of a small forest Cal refused to do anything with tolerated the name in exchange for a paycheck. “Between the two of you, I might not die of boredom before the Season.”
“So what you’re saying is, you keep me around for the entertainment value.”
“Never doubt it, my friend.”
Chapter Seven
What a pleasure to see you again, Lady Charlotte.” Lady Bartlesby greeted her like a long-lost friend while Lottie struggled to find a single memory of their hostess. “I heard someone saw you shopping with your godmother, so of course I couldn’t resist inviting you to dine with us. Thank you for accepting my invitation on such short notice. I planned this dinner at the last minute, but it simply would not have been the same without you.”
A sense of foreboding struck Lottie. Overly friendly strangers usually had an agenda of their own—and she was almost certain this woman was a stranger.
“Our numbers weigh heavily on the side of the gentlemen this evening. We ladies will have to soldier on while surrounded by some of the finest men in London.” Lady Bartlesby winked.
“That may not be saying much with the lack of company in Town. But keep an eye out, girl. Your dream wastrel may be present this evening,” Agatha teased Lottie in a whisper.
In their hostess’s warning that the numbers were uneven, she did not clarify that the only women present besides Lottie and Agatha were herself and a daughter of marriageable age. Naturally. Because why wouldn’t she throw her innocent daughter into this den of hungry bachelors. Although as dens of hungry predators went, this was a small gathering. For that Lottie was thankful. Agatha stopped to greet an acquaintance while the lady of the house towed Lottie along in her wake.
“You’ll remember Lord Bartlesby, of course.” Her hostess gestured to an older gentleman with the beleaguered air of a man used to swallowing his opinions with copious libations. Lottie had never seen him before. The alcohol fumes surrounded him in a noxious perfume.
Lord Bartlesby gestured to a man at his side. “May I introduce Mr. Leopold Lurch, youngest son of Baron Ellery.”
Mr. Lurch’s eyes were a lovely shade of blue, with lush thick lashes sure to be the envy of any woman. A few excessively long, lonely strands of hair attempted to cover his shiny bald pate in a swirling pattern held in place with pomade. His nose had an unfortunate upward tilt at the tip, giving him an undeniably porcine air, with perpetually flared nostrils. Mr. Lurch’s eyes were sharp, leaving Lottie with the feeling she’d already been scrutinized and found wanting. A strong odor of onions came from him as he muttered something about being charmed and kissed the air above her fingers. Thank goodness for evening gloves.
When Lottie and her hostess turned away, Lady Bartlesby leaned close. “Quite a decent catch, if you ignore the nose. Good family.”
There was bitter truth in Agatha’s earlier teasing. Could she stomach adding Mr. Lurch to her list of potential matches? This wasn’t about attraction. A husband who would be content to leave her in the country in charge of the daily management was just as likely to resemble a farm animal as not. Besides, his padded, sloped shoulders lacked the blunt-force impact on her senses Lord Amesbury caused, which could only be a good thing.
Why would she think ofhimat a moment like this? There should be no comparison.
A footman opened the door behind them, and Lottie’s earlier sense of foreboding returned with force. As if her wandering thoughts had summoned him, Lord Amesbury stood in the doorway in evening dress beside Lord Carlyle. Lord Bartlesby crossed the room to shake Carlyle’s hand, then greeted Amesbury with a stiff nod.
Her unease deepened when their hostess joined the men at the doorway, looking awfully pleased with herself, eyes darting between Amesbury and Lottie. This was a setup from the beginning.
Of course. It made sense now.
As the first hostess to get the Paper Doll Princess and Lord Amesbury in the same room—at her table, no less—Lady Bartlesby held the trump card of hot gossip. Their hostess winked at Lottie with a glittering diamond-hard smile, her earlier friendly facade nowhere in sight.
For a moment, Lottie was that awkward debutante again—a young woman who chose to run from London rather than endure the laughter of her peers. The gossips, led by tonight’s hostess, would feast for weeks on the loaded silence that fell over the room as the guests realized what was happening. Possible plans of action presented themselves. Leaving immediately, remaining silent, or simply pretending she wasn’t bright enough to grasp the situation might work but smacked of cowardice. One by one she rejected her options until only a single clear path remained. This time, Lord Amesbury was a victim of the circumstance as much as she. That put them on the same side of this war, so to speak.
Amesbury and Aunt Agatha wore twin expressions with hard eyes and tight lips. He didn’t exactly appear welcoming, but she’d have to act quickly and hope he played along.
As fast as the feeling of impotent panic arrived, it fled. This situation could be managed, thank you very much. She’d handled worse. If Lady Bartlesby intended to create drama, they would try their best to disappoint.
Donning her most enthusiastic smile, Lottie greeted the new arrivals with her hands held out, as if sure of her welcome. “Gentlemen, what a delight. I hadn’t expected to see you again so soon.”
Lord Carlyle bowed first. “Lovely as always, Lady Charlotte. I trust the rest of your trip to London was uneventful?”
“Thankfully, yes. I think we’ve all had enough dramatics to last for a good long while.” She raised a brow meaningfully at the men. Behind her friendly mask, Lottie counted to three on each inhale and then three again for the exhale as she waited to see if the gentlemen would cooperate with her ruse. If they appeared to be friends, there would be nothing to gossip about, now would there? It was only conflict that fed the chatty cats, and she wouldnotgive their hostess any more fodder to share over tea tomorrow. Even if it meant allying herself for a time with a man who waffled between hero and villain.
