Barbara Pierce (36 page)

A disparaging sound rumbled from the earl’s throat. “You were not attentive to many things, madam. Unless your notion of chaperoning is akin to a petticoat merchant displaying her prized virgins before every lusty rake who has enough blunt to impress you.”

The hostility and contempt Kilby heard in the earl’s tone toward the viscountess was bewildering. He had just met the lady. “Lord Ordish, I take exception to your condemnation of Lady Quennell’s character.”

“Kilby,” Priddy quietly interjected.

“No. I will not sit quietly and permit him to speak such utter slander.” Kilby was not exactly sure what had occurred before her arrival; however, she intended to find out. “I have valued your opinions in the past, my lord. Nevertheless, I cannot allow you to insult a lady who has my utmost respect and love.”

The earl’s gaze hardened at her censure. “You have picked up the Carlisle arrogance quick enough.”

Kilby felt the implacable pressure of Priddy’s fingers on
her arm as the older woman tried to prevent her from standing. “On the contrary, Lord Ordish, my arrogance was bred into me, passed on by my father.”

“Are you so certain? It seemed to me that you came to London with a few doubts,” he said silkily.

“Enough, my lord,” the viscountess said, her anxious gaze switching from Kilby’s to his. “Please.”

“Oh, very well,” Lord Ordish sourly replied. He gestured at Lady Quennell. “Why don’t you tell her about Darknell and her brother? By her expression, I can see the girl has a dozen questions rattling around in her head and it is cruel to keep her in suspense.”

There was an awkward pause of silence.

Kilby did not like how the earl was staring at Priddy. He eyed her as if she were his prey. “Where are they? Did you summon the magistrate?”

Lord Ordish chuckled. “Maybe it will all make sense if I explain. Actually, it is an amusing tale, one I think you will enjoy.” He reached for the teapot. “But first, permit me to make amends for my earlier rudeness by pouring you the cup of tea Lady Quennell neglected to offer you.”

“There is no need . . .” Kilby sighed and gave up. If drinking cold tea would hasten them both into explaining Priddy’s odd note, then she would graciously accept it.

Unused to the task, the earl shifted his position in the chair, using his walking stick as a counterbalance. His hands trembled with the added weight of the teapot.

“Here, my lord. Allow me to assist you.” She steadied the teapot quaking in his grasp by holding it from the bottom so he could pour. Whatever had transpired in this house, it appeared that it had ended long before her arrival. Once she was assured that Priddy was not in any danger, Kilby intended to return to the Brawleys. With luck, Fayne would never know she had left the house.

As Lord Ordish flexed his wrist, Kilby caught a glimpse
of the bared flesh exposed between his glove and the cuff of his sleeve. She cried out in surprise, her hands recoiling from the teapot. Unprepared for the abrupt loss of her support, the porcelain teapot slipped from Lord Ordish’s hand. The fragile teapot shattered, along with the cups and saucers arranged on the silver tray. Shards of porcelain and tea splattered in all directions.

The earl muttered an oath, retreating to avoid the mess.

“Good heavens! Are you hurt, my dear?” the viscountess demanded, moving around the low table to her side. Using her handkerchief, she brushed the bits of porcelain and tea from Kilby’s skirts. “What happened? Did you get scalded?”

Kilby still could not credit what she had seen. Shaking, she concentrated on the top of the viscountess’s coiffure. “No. Truly, Priddy, I am fine. Pray do not bother,” she said, urging the older woman to stop fussing with the wet tea stains on the front of her dress.

“Pridwyn, step away from the girl,” Lord Ordish snapped. His harsh command and his informal usage of the viscountess’s first name had both ladies glancing at him. “The tea has long gone cold.”

He reached into his frock coat. Instead of producing a handkerchief as Kilby had assumed he was groping for, the earl pointed a small flintlock pistol at her. “Your upset had nothing to do with the tea. Am I not correct, my dear?”

Kilby thought of the raw bloodied scrapes she had glimpsed on the upper part of his hand. Scratches she had cut into her attacker at the lake. “You are right, my lord. I am not concerned about the tea.”

There had been no sign of Nipping.

Fayne, Everod, and Cadd had first gone to the Fitchwolf town house in hopes of catching him there. The residence was locked up and the furniture was covered. If the marquess was staying there, he had not bothered to hire any servants.

The trio moved on to some of the more popular private clubs. By the time they had entered White’s, Fayne was convinced the task was pointless. Nipping could be anywhere. Maybe he had underestimated the man. For all he knew, Nipping could be discreetly watching Fayne chase his bloody tail all over London while the marquess sat back and laughed at his mischief.

Cadd approached him, shaking his head. “Nipping is a member. Though no one has seen him recently.”

Everod strode over to them. “You have made the betting book again, Carlisle,” the viscount cheerfully announced. “I counted three new entries since I entered one almost a fortnight ago.”

“Betting on me, Everod?” Fayne softly mocked, understanding nothing short of severe beating would stop the man from profiting off his friends. “Do I even want to know what the wager was?”

The viscount grinned at him sheepishly. “I wagered Cadd that you would be able to resist bedding Lady Spryng this season.” Everod shrugged, unrepentant of his actions. “After you refused your chance at having both Lady Spryng and Lady Silver, I was positive another lady had you by the rod.”

How was Fayne ever going to be able to polish his tarnished reputation in the eyes of his duchess if his loyal, uncouth friends were going to keep reminding everyone of his misdeeds—or his temporary lapses? “If Kilby ever hears of that tale, Everod, I will see to it that you will be unable to hold a pen or your cock in your hands permanently!”

Everod backed away, his hands raised in surrender. “She won’t be hearing anything from me, Carlisle. I swear, you are positively becoming stodgy now that you are a married gent. Next you will be expecting us to play uncle and bounce your drooling heir on our knees.”

“A babe in Everod’s arms.” Cadd snickered. “That’ll be the day.”

Everod and Cadd stared at each other in silent accord. From the marquess’s swaggering grin, Fayne guessed the pair had thought up their next wager. Fayne was tempted to spoil their fun by telling them that he no longer viewed marriage as a punishment best relegated to old age. He was not even blanching at the thought of becoming a father. If his suspicions were correct, he anticipated that by autumn he would be able to place his hand on the softly rounded swell of Kilby’s belly and feel the tiny life they had created together flutter beneath his palm. As for granting Everod a chance to hold his heir, that was an entirely different issue.

His grin faded as a door to his right opened; and Hollensworth stepped into the lobby where they were standing.

The baron’s expression grew insolent when he saw Fayne. “I thought you ran off with your father’s whore, Solitea?”

Before his friends realized his intent, Fayne lunged for the man.

No one had moved since Lord Ordish had brandished his flintlock weapon. Suddenly, Priddy burst into nervous laughter, as if the pistol pointed at them were a jest. Kilby was just figuring out how deadly his intentions actually were.

“Put the pistol away, my lord,” the viscountess said, waving her hand regally as if dismissing his actions as harmless. She sat down in her chair. “Who are you planning to shoot? Kilby? It was an accident. Spilled tea and broken crockery is no reason to shoot anyone.”

Kilby placed her fingers against her brow. “Good grief, I fell neatly into your hands, did I not?” She straightened in her chair and gave herself a shake to clear her head. This was not the time to lose her composure. “Archer and Lord Darknell . . . they were never here.”

The earl watched her closely, waiting for her to work it all out. “No.”

“And the note?” With sorrow-filled eyes she faced the viscountess. “Priddy, I recognized your distinctive hand. What part do you play in Lord Ordish’s ruse?”

“I had no choice, Kilby, I swear,” Lady Quennell said, placing her hand over her heart. “He was already here when your letter arrived. He forced me to write that note.” She glared bitterly at the earl.

The earl waved the pistol at Priddy. “She speaks the truth. I must admit, the lady is very dedicated to you. There was a moment or two when I thought I might have to snap sweet Pridwyn’s neck. In the end, I was rather disappointed that she eventually agreed.”

“You have managed to surprise me, Lord Ordish,” Kilby said, eyeing the seven-and-a-half-inch barrel warily.
“I thought we were friends. I would have never suspected that you were the one who tried to drown me in the lake.”

Priddy clasped her hand over her heart. With her light blue eyes wide with horror, she said, “What? What is this? Kilby, child, are you hurt?”

“Obviously not,” Lord Ordish said, his lips twisting in distaste. “You twit. If I had succeeded, I would not be obliged to finish the task.” He sighed wearily. “Things would have been simpler if you had not seen the scratches.”

The memory of those frantic moments as she struggled beneath the surface of the cold lake water repeated over and over in her mind. Kilby could still feel those unseen hands at her neck, pressing her deeper into the murky depths. It was difficult to reconcile that those powerful, implacable hands belonged to Lord Ordish.

“What did you intend to do? Serve me tea and then shoot me in the head?” She shook her head, feigning her disappointment. “Forgive me for saying so, my lord, but it is not really a good plan. Think of the mess, not to mention a witness.” Her gaze deliberately slid from the earl’s to Priddy’s shocked expression. The viscountess’s face changed from white to gray at Kilby’s implication that her life was also at risk.

The barrel wavered, a sign of his agitation. “Do not speak to me of plans. You thought you were so clever, did you not? Thinking you could get me and the other gentlemen of the
ton
to do your bidding.” He turned his scornful gaze on the viscountess. “And you . . . pathetically ambitious and totally oblivious to the mischief the girl was stirring up behind your back.”

Lord Ordish’s expression was truly frightening as he glared at Priddy. What had she and the viscountess done to deserve this man’s hate? She cleared her throat, drawing his focus away from the older woman. “What mischief?
I told you when we first met that I had discovered a few old letters belonging to my mother and I desired to meet some of her old friends. Nothing more.”

“Oh, Kilby.” Priddy groaned and pressed her hand to her forehead. “You do not know what you have done.”

What had she done? “My parents are dead,” she said defensively. “My curiosity is natural. Asking questions and talking to a few old acquaintances of my mother are hardly examples of criminal conduct.” If the viscountess was unhappy about Kilby’s curiosity, then the lady was going to have an apoplectic fit when she learned the true reasons that had prompted her interest.

Priddy lifted her head abruptly. Bitterly, she said, “Curiosity is one thing. Sharing confidences with
him
is quite another!”

“You never could manage to introduce Lady Quennell to me, now could you? Did you ever wonder why?” The earl paused, letting the question hang between them. “Then again, I doubt you tried too hard. If you had introduced me to your chaperone, I might have accidentally let something slip, alerting her to the fact that you were doing more than whoring yourself to Solitea. I think we both can guess how the viscountess will react when she learns why you were prying into your mother’s past.”

He was bluffing. How could he know anything about her past? “Have you been listening to Archer? Whatever he told you was a lie!”

“Ho! So your brother knows, as well.” Lord Ordish’s keen eyes might gleamed, considering the ramifications. “Your parents were rather sloppy to leave incriminating evidence for others to find.”

Priddy was tiring of watching the earl play with Kilby as a cat plays with a mouse. “What does Archer know?”

Lord Ordish ignored the viscountess’s question. Concentrating on Kilby, he said, “So it was the young marquess
who put you on this fool’s quest. How tragic. Though I suppose the man had private reasons for whispering his lies.”

“What do you know?” Kilby asked in a hushed voice.

The earl glanced impatiently at her. “You still have not figured it out? You were asking the wrong question all along.”

The agonizing question had given her countless sleepless nights. She had come to London hoping to find the answer. “Was Lord Nipping my father?”

The viscountess made a choking sound and sank into her chair.

Lord Ordish nodded in approval. “Believe it or not, I think you have suffered enough for the truth.” He leaned forward. “I will answer your question truthfully. Yes, Lord Nipping was your father.”

Kilby was so relieved by his reply that she burst into tears. The viscountess did not react to his revelation. She merely stared blankly at the wall. Kilby wanted to comfort Priddy, but the pistol aimed at her heart kept her in place.

Her elation faded at the earl’s next words. “On the other hand, the more intriguing question you really should be asking yourself is, who is your mother?”

Everyone began shouting as Fayne seized Hollensworth by the coat, sending them crashing through the door the baron has just exited from. The gentlemen sitting in the private room leaped out of their chairs as Fayne and Hollensworth fell against one of the card tables, tipping it over. Cards, chips, and money scattered everywhere. The men rolled on the ground, each trying to clip the other in the jaw.

Fayne broke the baron’s hold and rolled away, climbing to his feet. “Spreading lies, Hollensworth? Everyone knows Lady Kilby Fitchwolf was not my father’s mistress. I have been discreetly courting the lady out of the public eye for months.”