Page 44 of A Date with Dishonor

‘What is it you wanted to discuss, Whittiker?’ Alex demanded exceedingly quietly.

James sensed a dangerous atmosphere fomenting and it occurred to him that the viscount had guessed what he was about to say. Perhaps Alex had recognised Lily in the park and had been expecting a visit from him. He stroked his chin, adopting an air of regret as he said, ‘It is a very sensitive matter that you won’t want aired in public.’

Alex leaned back against the fireplace, his impatience intentionally apparent as he crossed his arms over a white linen shirt that displayed the muscular breadth of his shoulders.

‘Miss Elise Dewey will not like it to become common knowledge that a friend of mine spotted her alone with you in the bushes at Vauxhall.’

‘Are you threatening to make such an accusation?’ Alex’s expression and stance hadn’t altered an iota.

‘I will if I need to,’ Whittiker returned in a rush. ‘And I’ll name my witness. On the other hand, if you pay me...’ He shot back a step and blinked nervously as the viscount suddenly moved from the mantelpiece to pick up the decanter.

Alex refilled his empty tumbler and sipped, remaining silent and inhospitable as he stoppered the bottle without offering his guest a drink.

‘You might deny it ever happened to protect her, but Miss Dewey seems an honest chit and I imagine will tell the truth under questioning.’ Whittiker wished that the viscount would look at him or answer him. The lengthening silence was more unnerving than a bawled denial or counter-threat.

Suddenly Alex lifted his head and James could feel hard despising eyes boring into him.

‘I imagine you’ve prepared well for the consequences of trying to blackmail me. Have you?’ Alex asked quite mildly.

‘The consequences need only be a banker’s draft for three thousand pounds. And I’m willing to give you a week to consider.’ James edged towards the door, feeling it wise to retreat before the simmering rage he could sense heating the atmosphere became explosive. ‘It’s not as though you can’t afford it,’ he added sourly before slipping out into the corridor and hurrying towards the vestibule. He was smiling—but not as firmly as he’d expected to when he’d passed in the opposite direction a short while ago.

Chapter Thirteen

‘Isn’t that Alex Blackthorne’s phaeton?’

‘I believe it is,’ Dolly Pearson replied. ‘And look who is sitting beside him.’

Raising her lorgnette, Edith Vickers studied the splendid carriage’s passengers more closely. ‘It’s not surprising he’s smitten. Celia Chase is a lovely lady, isn’t she?’

Dolly disdainfully eyed the flimsy muslin garment clothing the young woman. ‘Pretty?’ she sniffed. ‘Maybe... Lady? I doubt it...’ Her muttering tailed off and she smiled brightly on noticing one of her nieces had turned away from the display of fabrics cramming a shop window.

‘We have noticed that the viscount is out and about today.’ Edith Vickers helpfully pointed out the sleek vehicle, oblivious to Dolly’s frown.

‘So he is,’ Elise breathed. She stared at the high-flyer drawn by two elegant greys. Even had she not overheard her aunt name the viscount’s companion she would have guessed that he was taking his mistress for a drive. The woman looked to be about her own age and devoted to him. Celia had a possessive hand on his sleeve while gazing up at him with an intimate smile.

He, on the other hand, was watching her, Elise realised as she glanced at his face to see if he was mirroring his mistress’s ardour. She pivoted away, hating the fact that he’d caught her gawping at the two of them.

‘Shall we move along and investigate other shops?’ Elise beckoned to Bea, indicating that they were ready to walk on.

The sisters had barely set foot on Regent Street before bumping into their aunt and Mrs Vickers, who’d also been of a mind to get outdoors for a constitutional before the weather again turned to showers. The two older women had seemed eager to join them and Elise had welcomed their company. Bea had barely surfaced from her fit of the glums during the cab journey to the centre of town. As they’d all slowly promenaded among the crowds, stopping to peruse the shop displays, her sister’s spirits had seemed to improve.

Elise took a surreptitious peek from beneath the brim of her bonnet, noticing that the phaeton was on its way again having escaped the knot of vehicles that had brought the traffic to a temporary standstill. An odd tension curdled her stomach as she watched the couple disappear into the distance and a lump formed in her throat. She gulped in a breath, inwardly scolding herself. Just because he’d once kissed and caressed her, making her, idiotically, feel overwhelmed didn’t mean he was special to her any more than she was to him. He was just a man who happened to be a practised philanderer and was friendly with the gentleman her sister wanted to marry. The sight of him with his mistress should not have affected her at all for it was none of her business what he did. She realised the sooner places were booked on the mail coach for her and her sister to travel home, the better it would be for everyone.

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