Page 16 of Her Impeccable Scoundrel
An elderly gentleman nearby stirred, and Morley lowered his voice to a low murmur. “I was there a couple of years before your cousin died. I was on my way to a friend’s in Wiltshire when I ran into Lord Vernon on the road. He insisted I tag along with him and pay a call.” Color touched his cheeks and he glanced away.
“And? Are the gossips right about…” About Blythe. He didn’t have to go on. Morley knew what he meant—he’d raised the subject earlier in his room.
“The earl was there, but the countess wasn’t at home.”
“Away, or just not at home to the two of you?”
“Not there, I suspect. I never saw her.”
“But the other ladies?”
Morley frowned. “Chilcombe had rooms in one of the wings. Had a very fetching nurse fussing over him and two pretty maids winking at Lord Vernon and me.”
“Did you stay for the orgy?”
Morley didn’t so much as bat an eye. “I did not. My wild, wicked days are behind me. Plus… the earl’s appearance put me off the notion entirely. Rail thin and pale as a ghost. Had the tremors until his nurse dosed him.”
Archie had been addicted to opium. That much of the gossip Morley shared must be true.
“I paid my respects and plowed on. Found a second-rate inn in the next town but the food was good. Thought it best to take my dinner there too.”
“Thank you, Morley. If you’re holding back anything else?—”
“Yes, well… When I left Risley Manor, I asked the groom who brought my phaeton round where I might find her ladyship.” He frowned. “I’ve always liked to, er, know things, you know? Told the groom my sister was a good friend of her ladyship and she’d asked me to check on her. Fellow was a little simple and he didn’t disappoint. Wouldn’t say where she was, but he said she always seemed to know when his lordship and his friends were coming and she never was around when they arrived. I asked about her in the taproom at the inn where I dined. One traveler tittered over his ale, but I swear, the locals—rum crowd of farmers and yokels, not your high-class sort—shot him daggers and all of them clammed up.”
A flash of color caught Graeme’s eye. The peacock who’d been seated next to Blythe, Lord Vernon Falfield, was coming their way. He looked like a pinch-faced Lord Byron with amber snake-eyes.
Graeme exchanged a look with Morley. “You didn’t tell me about your travels after we met in Paris,” he said. “Did you go on to Greece before the revolution there started?”
“Never made it,” Morley said. “Florence, though. Had a grand time there.”
“Might I join you?” Lord Vernon bowed and pulled over a chair. “Welcome to White’s. Lord Chilcombe, I saw your arrival at Lady Chilcombe’s. Lord Vernon Falfield. Morley is always running off to France. His stories of his travels will put you to sleep.”
“Is that so? He’s just been telling me about visiting my cousin at Risley Manor.”
“Didn’t stay for the fun, did you, Morley? I say, Chilcombe, you have big boots to fill. Archie was a game fellow, that’s for sure.”
“Was he? I can’t say I knew him well. Our families weren’t close.”
“Particular friend of mine.” He grinned. “The countess too. Now there’s a lovely lady. She won’t be troubling you for support much longer.”
“You mean she’ll remarry?” he asked. “Or are you implying something else?”
Lord Vernon laughed. “Don’t get your temper up, old fellow. I’m not impugning the lady.” He beckoned a waiter. “Another round for you two?”
Graeme glanced at his watch. “Not for me. I’ll bid you both good day.”
“I say, don’t leave yet,” Lord Vernon said. “I was hoping to find you here. My father, Diddenton, wants you to pay a call on him tomorrow.”
“I’m not free tomorrow,” Graeme said. “It will have to be another day.”
“Make it so,” Lord Vernon said, softening the remark with an oily smile. “Diddenton don’t like to wait on earls.” He laughed again, a false, horsey sound. “Pompous old prig, he is.”
One pompous prig to another; the marquess would have to wait on this earl.
“Don’t forget that promised dinner invitation,” Morley said.
“And one for me as well?” Lord Vernon flashed a cheeky grin.
