Jo Beverley - [Malloren 02] (31 page)

Bryght laughed. "The secret of my success is never betting against a certainty. The man would have to be dead to permit it. I am his
bête noire.
Heaven alone knows why."

"The fact that you have rutted with his wife?"

"So has half London before he grew suspicious. I could almost pity him." They summoned a waiting link boy and headed a few streets away to the Willoughbys' house.

"Not Nerissa, then," said Andover. "Jenny Findlayson? You seemed rather cool toward her."

"I begin to think we would not suit."

"Thank the lord for that. Who then is your current amorous interest? Anyway, I thought you were chasing after Upcott's sister."

"Chase? Is that in my nature?"

"It's not in your nature to attend these events, nor to buy virgins."

Bryght met his friend's eyes ruefully. Andover had made no previous remark about the strange event. "Touché."

"So, do I get an explanation?"

"Novel wagers amuse me."

"It is not a matter for discussion?" Andover hazarded.

"How perspicacious you are."

"Don't bite my head off. If you must become the talk of the clubs, it's not my fault. The general opinion gives you the accolade for finesse."

"Could it be otherwise?"

After a few moments, Andover said, "So? What has become of the fair Amazon of Dresden Street?"

"Her brother has left London and she is safe in the bosom of her family."

"Speedy work, even for you."

"I had little to do with it."

They turned the corner into the street where the Willoughbys had their house. "So," Andover mused, "we are now interested in Nerissa's cousin, Miss St. Claire. She seems unlikely to create scandals, but I see no wager in it. What is to prevent you from speaking with her?"

"My conscience. You heard her. I am not to intrude upon her in any way unless I can prove I did not lie."

Andover laughed. "I'd forgotten that. She seems to have taken you in dislike."

"She labors under misapprehensions."

"Does she? Can you not prove you spoke the truth?"

"Of a certainty, but it amuses me to choose when and where to claim my forfeit."

Andover glanced at Bryght. "What's the attraction there? She seems rather strait-laced. She is too forthright to be pleasing, and is rather lacking in curves."

"Do you think so?" said Bryght with faint amusement. "Strait-laces can be loosened, and I find forthright quite attractive. For example, I have a fatal weakness for women who try to shoot me."

Andover burst out laughing. "Fatal indeed! When did that happen, and why the devil would she do such a thing?"

"She told me to stop, and I had no mind to."

"So you've already had her, have you? And her not your slave?"

"My dear Andover, you are developing a low turn of mind. Let us enter Lady Willoughby's and see if it can be improved by screeching sopranos and fervent harpists."

Chapter 15

The soiree was much more to Portia's taste than the rout, though it too was crowded. But there were seats, and in two rooms there was excellent music.

Portia would have been happy just to listen to the music, but Nerissa wanted to talk. "I do wish you would tell me what is between you and Lord Bryght. I am dying of curiosity."

"There is nothing to tell, Nerissa. If the man has any honor at all, he will never approach me again."

"But there, see, there must be something, or you wouldn't say such a thing."

Portia met the avid brown eyes. "I dislike him, that is all. Because he encouraged my brother to play."

"If you dislike him so, you should want your revenge."

That again. Portia wished she knew what was really in Nerissa's mind, for she did not trust her. "I assure you, I want nothing that involves spending time with Bryght Malloren."

Nerissa fluttered her fan. "Lud, you are fierce upon the subject. But it shall be as you wish. I think."

At the change in Nerissa's voice, Portia followed her cousin's gaze and caught her breath. He was here!

"How strange," murmured Nerissa. "It is rare enough to see Bryght at a rout, but at a soiree such as this...."

Portia deliberately turned away from the doorway. So he
was
following her. Stalking her like a predator. Well, he would find she was no field mouse.

She prayed he would keep his distance, but within moments he crossed to speak to them. "Lady Trelyn, Miss St. Claire. What a charming surprise. And Lord Trelyn."

Portia realized Lord Trelyn must have come almost at a run as soon as he saw Bryght approaching his wife. Perhaps they
were
lovers.

"I didn't know you had a taste for music, Malloren," said Lord Trelyn frostily.

"I have a taste for all things excellent. Tell me, Trelyn, what do you think of Amazons?"

Portia almost leapt out of her seat with alarm.

"Amazons?" repeated Lord Trelyn blankly. "Why nothing. What have they to do with anything?"

"Do you not find the idea of female warriors intriguing? Perhaps we should mount a battalion of them."

"The idea is absurd."

"It would surely dismay the enemy. What do you think, ladies?"

Nerissa laughed uneasily. "Why would we want to go to war, my lord? We have enough work here at home."

"How true. And you, Miss St. Claire? Do you agree?"

She had to look at him. "I would not want to fight, my lord."

His lips twitched. "Really? You surprise me."

Portia felt her cheeks heat. "Unless the enemy was wicked," she added with meaning. "Then I would fight to the death."

His eyes turned serious. "Ah, but wickedness is so hard to detect, don't you think?"

"No, I don't think that at all. Gaming is wicked, as are brothels and fornication."

"Cousin Portia!" exclaimed Lord Trelyn. "You speak too boldly."

Portia controlled her unfortunate temper. "I beg your pardon, my lord." She deliberately looked up at Bryght and dared him to protest his virtue.

He bowed instead. "My dear Trelyn, perhaps you should have waited and wed the cousin. You seem to be in agreement on all matters."

With that he was gone, leaving a seething atmosphere behind him. After an eloquent silence, Lord Trelyn extended his arm to his wife. "I think you would like to listen to Madame Honorette play on the harp, my dear."

* * *

It was after they left the crimson saloon where the harpist had entertained them for a half hour, that the party divided.

Lord Trelyn received a note on a silver salver. He read it in frowning silence. "Something has arisen at St. James, my dear. I must attend to it. I will be gone less than an hour."

"Oh, poor Tea-cup," said Nerissa, laying a hand on his sleeve, and causing Lord Trelyn to cast a rather embarrassed look at Portia. "Surely it can wait until tomorrow."

"Now, now, Sugar Plum," he murmured, "you know my duty must always come first."

"But what are we to do?"

"You will be quite safe here and there is excellent music to enjoy. I will take the carriage and be back in no time."

After a few more playful protests, Nerissa let her husband leave. "Do not marry a political man, Portia," she said with a plaintive sigh that almost convinced Portia she was bereft. "Come, let us stroll about."

The next few minutes reminded Portia of their time at the Debenhams' rout, with Nerissa steering skillfully through the rooms as if afraid she might miss something. Portia greeted people absentmindedly and kept a weather eye open for Mallorens ahead.

But it was not a Malloren they encountered. It was Lord Heatherington.

He bowed. "Lady Trelyn, and the lovely Miss St. Claire. How delightful. May I escort you to the choral recital?"

He held out a hand to each and they began to move with the flow of people toward the ballroom where the recital was to take place.

But then Nerissa stopped. "Oh dear. I'm afraid I cannot bear the thought of more singing. Portia, do you wish to go?"

"Not particularly. Do you have a headache, Cousin? Perhaps Lord Heatherington could find you something to drink."

"Or perhaps I can escort you both to the refreshments, ladies."

This was agreed on, and they went toward the back of the house, moving against the flow of people.

"The choral recital is very popular," Portia remarked.

Lord Heatherington looked down at her. "The choir of Westminster Abbey, Miss St. Claire. Are you sure you don't wish to hear them? I promise to take excellent care of Lady Trelyn."

"No, thank you, my lord. I think I have a little of the headache, too."

In fact, Portia would have liked to hear the famous choir, but she was afraid to be alone. She was sure Bryght would somehow discover that fact and harass her.

They reached the refreshment room at last, but Nerissa halted in the doorway. "Oh dear. Fish. The smell of fish quite turns my stomach these days. Perhaps if I could just sit in a quiet room..."

"But of course," said Heatherington, all concern. "I'm sure there must be one down here."

Within moments they were in a small room further down the corridor and away from the soiree. Portia helped Nerissa to a chaise. "Lord Heatherington, perhaps you could find some water."

"Oh, no," Nerissa protested. "I just need a moment's rest away from the smell of fish."

The atmosphere in the room suddenly reminded Portia of her discomfort with these two earlier in the day. Her suspicions must be absurd, but even so, she resolved not to leave them alone.

Lord Heatherington took a pinch of snuff and dusted his fingers. "You have an unfortunate brother, Miss St. Claire."

Portia knew the remark was more than idle conversation. "He is unlucky," she admitted watchfully.

Nerissa suddenly spoke to the viscount. "Bryght Malloren came up to us and was speaking of Amazons. Did you not say that was the key, Heather?"

Portia looked between them sharply, alarm sounding.

Lord Heatherington smiled. "Hippolyta. I thought so."

Portia's knees went weak, and she collapsed in a chair.

"Don't worry," said Lord Heatherington quite kindly. "We mean you no harm. It merely suits us to have you on our side."

"Your side?" But she knew.

"To not have you tattling to Trelyn every time we meet."

Portia looked at Nerissa. "What have you done to get rid of your husband, Cousin? Sent him a false note?"

It was Lord Heatherington who answered. "Not at all. We are opportunists, Miss St. Claire, and Lord Trelyn is a very busy man. Matters will doubtless be even easier now you are our supporter."

"I am no supporter of adultery, my lord."

"Then you are Hippolyta, virgin queen of the brothel, bought by Bryght Malloren in a business that is the talk of the clubs."

Portia was terrified, but tried not to show it. "What purpose would there be in revealing that?"

"None," he said. "But it is our weapon."

Before Portia could respond to this, Nerissa said, "We're wasting time. Portia, you have no choice but to dance to our tune. Go and wait in the next room
—
"

"Nerissa, you
can't."

"Or," said Lord Heatherington, "the world will learn all."

Portia leapt to her feet. "This is
wicked!"

"Save your moralizing," snapped Nerissa, and rose to her feet with remarkable energy. She walked over and opened the adjoining door. "How appropriate. It's the library. You can study your Bible. Stay here, and give warning if anyone should come."

Portia wanted to be a holy martyr, but she knew it would do no good. This pair would destroy her reputation, then find some other way of meeting. She walked into the library and Nerissa closed the door behind her with a firm click.