A Wicked Gentleman (12 page)

“Sherry, if you please,” the viscount said, and Nigel, who would have preferred a bumper of Madeira, hastily concurred.

Aurelia poured two glasses and perched carefully on a Chippendale chair with a rickety leg. “Are you enjoying being in town, Nigel?”

“Oh, famously,” he said, tipping back the contents of his glass. “You wouldn't believe, Ellie, how high the fellows play.”

A quick frown crossed Aurelia's eyes. She was aware of the viscount, impassive in the corner of the sofa, one leg crossed casually over the other, his glass resting on the arm, and she swallowed the anxious query that would have come naturally in the family informality of the country.

She was spared further difficulty by Cornelia's arrival. “Did I hear the door knocker?” She breezed in, a workbox under her arm, then paused as she took in the visitors. “Oh, it's you.” Her eyes were on Harry, then she turned aside to set down the workbox.

“That's no way to greet a cousin, Nell,” Nigel protested, assuming the ambiguous greeting was directed at him. “I told you I'd call upon you as soon as I was in town. I have to say I've a much more comfortable billet than you, coz. Regular funeral parlor this is.” He held out his glass.

“We're improving on it gradually,” Cornelia said, fetching the decanter from the sideboard. “And Lord Bonham, I did not expect to see you.” She'd been about to add,
so soon
but checked herself. She filled Nigel's glass and offered the decanter to the viscount.

“I happened to run into your cousin at White's,” Harry said, accepting a refill. He couldn't help noticing that her gaze was unreadable, her complexion as smooth as Devonshire cream. “Your cousin's steps took him here, and I had a mind to inquire of Lady Farnham as to the health of her daughter.”

“How considerate,” Cornelia murmured, pouring herself a glass of sherry. “Amazingly so for a man with so many demands upon his time, Lord Bonham.”

“And you are aware of the many demands upon my time, Lady Dagenham?” He sounded faintly incredulous. “Such perspicacity…I am amazed.”

Cornelia smiled. “Forgive me if I jumped to conclusions, viscount. I assumed that a gentleman in your position would have much to occupy you…your clubs, balls, rout parties, racing…” Her shoulders lifted in a graceful shrug. “I confess I know little of such matters, sir. As I said yesterday, I am a country mouse.”

Aurelia stifled a choke. Nigel stared in open astonishment at his cousin. Viscount Bonham merely raised his sherry glass in the semblance of a toast, and said, “Indeed, ma'am. And as I recall we disposed of that particular description yesterday also.”

Cornelia sipped her sherry. Her skin was tingling. She thought she could actually feel the sparkle in her eyes, the glow in her skin as a real sensation. Even her scalp was reacting to whatever excitement was being generated. She had to force herself to remember that Nigel and Aurelia were in the room.

“Did Ellie tell you, Nigel, that Stevie lost his first tooth this morning?” she asked, aware of the absurdity of the non sequitur but unable to think of any other way to strip the atmosphere of its charge. A charge she was certain Nigel and Ellie couldn't miss, let alone the viscount.

“Uh…yes,” Nigel said. “Exciting for him, I expect.”

“No, terrifying, actually,” Cornelia corrected. “He was convinced for a while that he was losing parts of himself and that eventually he would disappear altogether.”

“I remember losing
my
first tooth,” Harry stated, wondering as he said it where the memory had come from, and why now. “I felt the same way. I'd been so proud of having it, then it fell out.” He laughed softly. “It took a deal of persuasion to convince me that the little white bump in my gum was going to replace it, and I'd be as good as new.”

Cornelia glanced across at him as she set down her workbox. That had been a curious intimacy. One that she found endearing, against her better judgment. He was playing some kind of game. Did he still harbor hopes of buying the house, wearing them down by a refusal to accept Liv's decision? This wasn't purely a social call, she was convinced of it.

She remembered that Letitia had said that the viscount had a house on Mount Street. No need to let on that she knew that already, and it would give her an opening. “So, do you have a house in town, Lord Bonham?” she said. “I wonder, since you appear so anxious to possess this one. Perhaps you only have lodgings?” Her tone was casual, her smile showing only a mild curiosity.

“Indeed, ma'am, I have a house on Mount Street,” he responded. “I am hoping to purchase a house on a quiet square for my late sister's family. I believe children need space and a garden. My own house is a bachelor establishment, you understand, but I wish to keep the children under my eye. This house and its situation seemed ideal.” He gave a careless shrug.

“Oh, how very sad,” Aurelia said with ready sympathy. “How many children?”

“Five,” he said truthfully enough. Annabel most certainly had five children, and was probably expecting a sixth by now. She was a formidable breeder, a fact that deeply gratified her expansive, genial country squire of a spouse. He became aware of Cornelia's sharply focused gaze and wondered for an instant if she'd somehow detected the one duplicitous word in his explanation.

“Yes, how very sad,” Cornelia concurred. “Was she a younger sister?”

He allowed a somber nod to answer the question. Annabel was a good enough sport to enter into the spirit of this lie, but the time had come to close the subject.

“There must be other more suitable properties in town, sir,” Cornelia said, still regarding him closely. “In fact this house isn't really in a fit condition for children.”

“Indeed,” Aurelia said, “the nursery quarters leave much to be desired. Linton hasn't stopped complaining since we arrived.”

“Best not let the earl hear that,” Nigel put in with a chuckle. “When he discovered you'd all left against his orders, I thought he'd have an apoplexy. He was going to send an armed brigade after you.” He got up to refill his glass.

Cornelia shot him a restraining look. She didn't want private matters discussed in front of Lord Bonham. Nigel, however, interpreted the look as applying to his third glass of sherry.

“Oh, don't look so disapproving, coz,” he said, waving his glass at her. “I've seen fellows drink a bottle of claret before breakfast.”

“I hope they feel the better for it,” Cornelia responded. She had no interest in policing her cousin, but at least his assumption had changed the topic.

“So where's Liv?” Nigel asked, as if suddenly aware of the absence of one of the women.

“She's gone to buy a dog,” Cornelia informed him succinctly.

“Buy a dog?”
Nigel stared at her. “Liv doesn't care for dogs. They scare her. She won't go near the stables when my father's pointers are out.”

“I believe she's gone to buy a dog that won't scare her,” Aurelia said, laughing as she and Cornelia exchanged glances.

“Yes, but we have to hope it will scare others,” Cornelia said, her lip quivering.

Harry sipped his sherry, his relaxed posture and easy smile concealing his intense interest in the turn the conversation had taken.

“Why?” Nigel demanded. “I'd have thought you'd enough on your hands with this tumbledown mausoleum without livestock.”

“Unfortunately, it seems a necessary precaution,” Cornelia informed him. “We have some nocturnal visitations. We don't know whether they're human or mere spirits, but they cause Morecombe to discharge his blunderbuss, a fearsome weapon with an even more fearsome sound. It scares the children, you see. And that upsets Linton.” She smiled serenely. “A dog seems the lesser of all evils.”

“Lord,” Nigel said. “Who'd want to break in here? There's nothing to steal.”

“You wouldn't think so, would you,” Aurelia agreed. “But maybe there's something we haven't found.”

“A treasure trove?” Nigel's gray eyes glittered with enthusiasm. “A cache of gems, perhaps. D'you think the old lady hid treasure…in the attic…or the cellar? Let's take a look.” He jumped to his feet. “Come on, a treasure hunt.”

“Nigel, you really are just a boy at times,” Cornelia said, laughing as she waved him down again. “I've been down in the cellar, and the only treasure I found there was what you're drinking. But Morecombe and the twins don't have any idea about anything being hidden, and believe me, they would know.”

“Perhaps they want it for themselves?” Nigel suggested, unwilling to give up the prospect of hidden treasure.

Aurelia shook her head firmly. “No, they're utterly and absolutely loyal to Aunt Sophia. They'd take nothing that belonged to her that she hadn't gifted to them.”

“I noticed a cat on the area steps,” Harry said, still smiling his easy smile. “Perhaps he, or is it she, is responsible for the bumps and bangs?”

“She's called Puss,” Cornelia told him as she reached behind her for her workbox. “Not very original, I grant you. But she's the reason Morecombe insisted on leaving the kitchen window open at night. However, that doesn't happen anymore.” She raised the lid and trawled through the silks looking for a particular shade of pink to trim one of Susannah's bonnets.

“Well, I'm sure you're wise to take precautions,” Harry said, getting to his feet. “I must take my leave, ma'am…Lady Farnham. I'm so glad the child has no nightmares about drays and cart horses.” He bowed over Aurelia's hand before turning to Cornelia.

She closed the lid of the workbox as she rose to give him her hand. “Good morning, Lord Bonham.”

“Lady Dagenham.” He raised her hand to his lips. But instead of his lips merely brushing the air over her knuckles he kissed her hand firmly, his long fingers warm and tight around her own, in a gesture that was shockingly intimate between mere acquaintances.

Aurelia's eyes widened, then she moved towards the door with a distant smile that implied she had seen nothing out of the ordinary. Nigel, on the other hand, stared in open amazement, until Aurelia, as she passed him, knocked him with her elbow, and he recollected himself.

Cornelia withdrew her hand, and said coolly, “I wish you success in your house hunting, sir.”

He bowed again and took up his hat, gloves, and cane from the gatelegged table where he'd laid them on entering the parlor. There was a faintly mocking gleam in his green eyes as he smiled at her. But the mockery was directed at himself as much as at Cornelia. Something was going on between them that he didn't understand enough to acknowledge any more than she did.

“Dagenham, do you accompany me?” he inquired pleasantly as he turned to the door. “Or shall I leave you ensconced in the bosom of your family?”

Nigel was torn. The prospect of walking through the streets in the viscount's company was more than appealing, and it would do him no end of good socially, but he was also inclined to stay for a lively chat with his cousins.

As he hesitated, the viscount said with a light laugh, “Ah, don't fear, Dagenham. I shan't take offense. Any man worth his salt would prefer the company of your cousins.” He nodded his farewells and left the parlor.

“I'll see you out, Lord Bonham.” Cornelia spoke softly behind him as she stepped into the hall, closing the parlor door gently. “I doubt Morecombe is around to act as doorman.” She moved past him to the front door and reached for the bolt. She was intensely aware of him standing behind her, and as she wrestled with the heavy, unoiled bolt he reached around her and laid his hands over hers to pull back the bolt.

It creaked and came loose. He let his hands fall, and Cornelia pulled open the door, letting cold sunlight into the dingy hall. “What's going on here?” she asked, facing him. “Do you want something from me, Lord Bonham?”

He laughed. “Oh, what a fearsomely direct creature you are. Doesn't it occur to you that quite simply I find you a most attractive woman?” He took both her hands again, holding them lightly.

“I've never been susceptible to flattery or empty compliments, sir,” she responded.

His eyes darkened as his fingers closed more tightly over hers. “What makes you think they're either, Nell? Believe me, I'm not in the habit of indulging in such meaningless flippancies myself.”

She did believe him. This was not a man to waste his time or energy on pointless pursuits. “Are you trying to get your own back for that trick I played on you?” It was all she could think of.

He shook his head. “We've had done with that, Nell, and you know it.” He laughed again, a warm laugh strangely at odds with his next words. “Although, I have to say that if I
were
trying to get my own back, you'd be under no illusions as to what was happening.”

He took a step back, holding her at arm's length as he smiled at her, then he released her hands and, as he'd done before, lightly brushed her mouth with his fingertip. “No illusions there either,” he said softly. He raised a hand in farewell and strolled casually down the steps to the street.