• • •
Ned Galbraith had heard the rumors himself. At first there were just the odd few sly, suggestive hints, then one or two of his friends taxed him openly with it. He denied all knowledge of it and went in search of Elphingstone.
As luck would have it, he encountered the fellow as he was leaving his lodgings. Ned pushed him back indoors. “What the devil do you mean by spreading rumors about me and Lady Lily Rutherford?”
Elphingstone’s eyes almost popped. “So it was Lady Lily at the inn, after all? Fellows at the club said you’d run off with her but changed your mind after sampling the goods—awkk!”
Ned grabbed him by his exquisitely arranged neckcloth and shook him like a rat. “Speak of her with respect—or not at all—if you want to live to see another day.” He dropped Elphingstone back on his feet.
Elphingstone, his composure as ruffled as a cat dipped in water, smoothed out his rumpled clothing and fiddled with his crushed cravat, muttering, “It’s ruined, quite ruined.” Seeing Ned’s expression he said pettishly, “No need for violence—it wasn’t I who linked your name with Lady Lily’s. I never saw the face of the lady you were with at that wretched inn, so how could I? I’m just repeating the on-dit around town. The tale was already out there, entries made in the betting book at White’s before I even arrived in London—which was yesterday. That demmed village wheelwright took a week! A week to mend a simple wheel! A week at that dreadful inn!” He shuddered.
Ned still itched to strangle the man, but his story added up. If Elphingstone had only just arrived in town the day before, the rumors couldn’t have spread as far as they had. Bets in the betting book at White’s—damn, that was serious. “Very well. But if I hear you’ve been adding to any of the gossip . . .”
Elphingstone gave him a shocked look. “Gossip? Moi? Perish the thought!”
Elphingstone was still spouting faux indignation when Ned left. Deep in thought—who the hell had spread the scandal?—he walked along Piccadilly, heading for White’s—he wanted to check that damned betting book—when he almost bumped into a lady coming out of Hatchards bookshop.
“Watch where you’re walking, young Galbraith!”
Startled, he looked up and came to an abrupt halt. “Lady Ampleforth? You’re in London?”
She gave him a dry look. “A singularly foolish observation.”
“I thought you were on your way to Hereford.”
“Changed my mind, didn’t I? Now, if you’ve quite finished blocking my way . . .”
He stepped back. She handed her parcels to a waiting footman and prepared to enter her carriage.
And it hit him. He lunged forward and stopped her. “There’s a scurrilous story circulating among the ton, linking my name with that of Lady Lily Rutherford.”
“Is there really?” Her look of mock innocence confirmed his theory.
He frowned. “You told me you abhorred gossip!”
Lady Ampleforth gave him a smug look. “Oh, I do.” She looked like the cat that ate the cream.
“But you’re the source of that gossip!” He was certain now—it could be no one else.
“Nonsense! It’s not gossip when you speak the truth. I saw you and the Rutherford gel with my own eyes, traveling together.”
He gritted his teeth. “I explained that.”
She gave a scornful huff.
“And she had a chaperone with her.”
Another huff delivered her opinion of Betty’s value as a chaperone. “If you’re finished talking nonsense, I wish to enter my carriage.”
He didn’t budge. “Why? Why would you do this? Lady Lily is a sweet young girl who’s never harmed a soul in her life.”
“No doubt she is,” she said carelessly. “I doubt I’ve ever spoken to the gel.”
“Then why would you try to ruin her reputation.”
“Try?” There was a world of meaning in the way she said it.
Ned narrowed his eyes. “You mean you wanted to ruin her?”
She shrugged. “It’s nothing to do with the gel herself. She merely gave me the opportunity.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She is Aggie Rutherford’s—Lady Salter she is now—niece. Aggie Rutherford! She holds herself so high—always has, ever since she was a gel—looking down on the rest of us and thinking she’s soooo perfect!” She gave a self-satisfied smile. “And now we have a scandal involving her precious family—and, oh, how the mighty are fallen. I trust dear Aggie is squirming as much as I hoped she would.” She pushed past him and climbed into her barouche.
Shocked by the vitriol in her voice, Ned watched her fussily arrange herself. To ruin Lily for the sake of some ancient feud with Lily’s aunt . . .
“You vicious old trout! If you were a man . . .”
She laughed. “Words, words, words. Sticks and stones, they used to tell me.” She smiled. “But words can hurt after all, can’t they, young Galbraith? Coachman, drive on.”
Fuming, Ned watched her drive off. He’d never taken much notice of the old lady before, but she’d always seemed pleasant enough. Did his grandfather know she was such a spiteful old cat? If not, he’d enlighten the old man when next he came to London.
He continued on to White’s, where he greeted a couple of friends and acquaintances with the appearance of cool insouciance. He chatted of this and that, and then, aware of the covert interest of several members, he wandered over to the betting book and scanned it in a casual manner. There were the entries Elphingstone had mentioned, linking his name and Lily’s—Mr. E.G. and Lady L.—with bets made on a variety of possible outcomes. He swore under his breath.
He left White’s and went straight to Jackson’s Boxing Saloon, where he burned off some of his rage and frustration in a couple of fast and furious bouts. All the time his fists were flying, his thoughts were turning over and over, looking for a way out—for both of them.
He was all wrong for her. She was all wrong for him.
He thought of the whispers, the sly looks, the cunning innuendoes she would face; he recalled the smugness of that malicious, gossiping old bat, and the entries in the betting book. The reputation of
