The young marquis glanced at Harriet, then at Ormond, his hesitation obvious. One did not cross the viscount with impunity.
“Come, Seego, she likes you. I can tell,” Ormond kindly remarked.
“I would be honored, sir, Miss Harriet,” Lord Seego murmured, glancing from one to the other, tardily remembering his manners and turning to Claire with a bow and a polite, “Miss Russell.”
“Perfect-everyone is of one mind, then,” Ormond said with avuncular good cheer. “Off you go, children. Enjoy yourselves.”
As the young couple walked away, Ormond handed Claire into a chair. “Did I do well?” he asked, sitting down beside her.
“You are feared and obeyed, my lord,” she quipped. There had been no mistaking Seego’s deference.
Sliding down on his spine, he smiled at her from under half-lowered lashes. “Now if only you would follow suit.”
“I suspect you would soon grow bored if I did.”
“No doubt.”
“Like now.”
“Sorry.” He sat up straight in his chair and surveyed the crowded room with a jaundiced gaze. “Don’t you find these affairs tedious?”
“You are excused, Ormond. Take yourself off to the card room with my blessings.”
“There’s no serious play here.”
“Then leave.” She smiled. “You need not be chivalrous on my account.”
His expression brightened. “My God, you’re a sensible woman.”
“Yes, I am.”
He grinned. “You’re vastly charming in other ways as well.”
“Go. I’m not a flirt like Harriet. I don’t require flattery.”
“You’re sure?” He was being given his freedom, the offer so novel in a postcoital situation, he required further confirmation.
“I’m absolutely sure.”
That one could love a woman like this came suddenly unbidden to his mind, the rash thought as quickly dismissed. Rising to his feet, he took advantage of the opportunity given him. “I shall leave my carriage for you and your family.”
“Thank you.”
“And I shall see you tomorrow afternoon.”
He spoke in such an ordinary way, he might have been talking about the weather. “Yes,” she said, curtailing her reply since she was not so blase. The thought of seeing him tomorrow stirred up a feverish tumult throughout her body.
He bowed. “Au revoir, Miss Russell.”
She only nodded, his parting smile sending a jolt of desire racing through her senses. Clenching her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking, she watched him walk away, the crowd parting for him as though he were royalty. And like royalty, he accepted their deference as his due.
Had she known, his indifference to the crowd was the result of a preoccupation with other matters. He needed to talk to Seego. The boy normally appeared at Brooks later in the evening, as did most noblemen if not busy with their inamoratas. Still too wet behind the ears to have a mistress, Seego was a regular at Brooks in the wee hours. Although, from what Ormond heard, the boy was more apt to fall in love than set up a mistress.
The result, no doubt, of Seego’s parents’ unconventional love match.
Unlike
If all went as planned Ormond was hoping to persuade young Seego to pay court to Harriet. The boy was the most acceptable of her suitors-and he knew of what he spoke.
Not that he expected the marquis would be difficult to persuade.
Although it never hurt to offer an inducement of one kind or another. He was thinking young Alastair might like one of his racehorses as a preengagement gift. Or some bauble for Harriet that would encourage her interest. As for baubles, he needed some of his own. Claire had little jewelry from what he could tell and what she had was inexpensive. A situation he was eminently qualified to correct; he had an open account at Grey’s. And then there was the matter of her wardrobe. If she didn’t wish to be beholden to her aunt, perhaps he could persuade her to let him refurbish it.
By the time he exited Catherine’s, Ormond was in extremely high spirits. Striding down the pavement, he began organizing his morning schedule. He would require the presence of his secretary, solicitor, Catherine’s decorator, his housekeeper, and a modiste in order to orchestrate the events required to bring his plans to fruition.
He actually considered going to bed before morning for the first time in years. He didn’t wish to be fatigued for his rendezvous with Claire.
He might even shock his chef and have him prepare breakfast for him.
Chapter Ten
Mrs. Bellingham fretted on the drive home, grumbling about noblemen’s manners with regard to Ormond leaving early. Although, she grudgingly had to admit that, overall, the evening had been a great success.
“And Ormond will call tomorrow, mark my words,” Mrs. Bellingham said with the absolutism that was a hallmark of her personality. “Lady Strand said his fortune is so vast, it defies speculation. His mother was an heiress and he was her sole heir. That is the way of the aristocracy, you know,” she went on in her same doctrinaire way. “Wealthy families make certain their money doesn’t go astray.”
“I understand Ormond’s father has considerable wealth as well,” Claire pointed out.
“That may be, but nothing like his mother’s. Lady Strand said when Annabella FitzClarence made her bow, she was not only the most beautiful girl of the season, but the richest.”
“It doesn’t matter whether the man you love is the richest or not,” Harriet said with a little sniff. “Everyone knows, money doesn’t buy happiness.”
Harriet’s comments were so shockingly contradictory to her previous views on the merits of love and money, that Claire and her aunt stared at her as if she’d sprouted another head.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Claire said, finding her tongue first. “There are any number of wealthy marriages that are unhappy I’m sure.” Ormond’s family came to mind.
“Ormond’s mother ran away from her husband. And they were both rich. So you see,” Harriet declared as if she’d not only read Claire’s mind, but delivered irrefutable evidence that marriage without love was oppressive.
“My dear late husband always used to say that you can love a rich man as well as a poor one. He was quite right,” Mrs. Bellingham declared, undeterred by Harriet’s assertion. “And since Ormond is interested in you, my dear, the question of wealth is irrelevant, is it not?”
“I may find that I prefer another man,” Harriet muttered.
“Nonsense, you don’t know any other men,” Mrs. Bellingham returned, sharply.
Claire gave her sister a warning look.
Harriet wrinkled her nose, but judiciously curtailed the remark she was about to make. Then with a toss of her blond curls, she slumped down in her seat and sulked for the remainder of the drive.
Once they were home, Claire intended to speak with Harriet in private. But her aunt insisted Claire help her undress and ready herself for bed, rather than wake her maid. By the time Claire had completed her duties, Harriet was fast asleep.
She’d have to speak with her sister tomorrow. There was something about Harriet’s objection to their aunt’s sponsorship of Ormond that was perplexing. Prior to the rout tonight, Harriet had been unshakable in her resolve to become the next Viscountess Ormond.
And now?
