Page 37 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
It had begun to rain, fat, wet drops splattering the pavement. Georgiana scrambled into the carriage and was busy shaking the damp from her skirts when Lord Haslemere said, “Do you know why my sister married the Duke of Kenilworth, Georgiana?”
Georgiana’s hands stilled. “I assumed it was for the reason Lady Wylde mentioned—because she wished to become a duchess. Don’t ladies of thetonall marry for titlesand fortunes?”
“I’ve no idea what most ladies of thetondo, but Jane never cared about Kenilworth’s title. She never aspired to become a duchess, and she didn’t need Kenilworth’s money. She had a substantial fortune of her own.”
“Why did she marry him, then?”
“For love.” Lord Haslemere chuckled at her raised eyebrows. “I see you’re skeptical, but I assure you, Jane was in love with Kenilworth when she married him.”
Georgiana paused, then asked, “And now?”
“Now?” Lord Haslemere’s laugh was harsh. “If the rumors are to be believed, Lord Draven is Jane’s secret lover, and for all I know, Kenilworth has a mistress tucked away in some townhouse somewhere. It doesn’t sound much like love to me.”
Georgiana blinked. She wasn’t prepared to hear such a quaint notion of marriage from the fashionable, rakish Lord Haslemere. “You don’t know that. Even if he does, it isn’t uncommon for a gentleman to take a mistress—”
Lord Haslemere brought his walking stick down hard on the floor of the carriage. “No gentleman who loves and respects his wife takes a mistress, damn it.”
Georgiana stared at him, speechless. “I-I’m surprised to hear you express such a sentiment, my lord. You’ve had a number of mistresses of your own—”
“But nowife.” Lord Haslemere squeezed the head of his walking stick with such force the silver lion looked as if it would snap off in his fist. “I don’t deny I’ve earned my reputation as a rake, but I’m not utterly devoid of principles. If I did have a mistress, which I don’t, it wouldn’t be at all the same thing as Kenilworth having one.”
“No mistress?” Georgiana bit her lip. “I thought you and Lady Wylde—”
“If Lady Wylde were my mistress, I think I’d know it.” His lips twitched at her expression. “I did warn you not to listen to the gossip about me, Georgiana. The truth is much less titillating than the rumors.”
Did that mean hewasn’tinsatiable or ferocious, as Lady Wylde had said? Georgiana bit down hard on her tongue before she could succumb to the temptation to ask.
Lord Haslemere tore his hat from his head, tossed it onto the seat beside him, and dragged a rough hand through his hair. “The Christmas ball Lady Wylde mentioned, the one that ended the house party Jane attended. That’s the same ball Clara Beauchamp attended on the night she disappeared.”
“Yes, it’s strange, isn’t it?” More than strange, that a young lady should vanish out from under the noses of dozens of guests at a Christmas ball without anyone seeing a thing. “Did Jane attend theball as well?”
“No. She left the house party early, before it took place. As I said, Jane wasn’t out yet, and my father didn’t think it was proper for her to attend a ball with so many members of thetonpresent. Whatever happened at that ball may have started at the house party. Perhaps Jane can shed some lighton the matter.”
“What makes you think she’ll tell you anything?” Whatever had happened at that house party, the duchess wasn’t likely to confess it to her brother, considering she’d made Georgiana swear she’d keep silent about anything having to do with Clara Beauchamp.
He glanced at her, surprised. “Whyshouldn’t she?”
“Because you’re her brother, of course. What if Lady Wylde is right, and the duchess fell in love with Lord Draven at that party? No lady wants her brother nosing into her romantic entanglements. I daresay she won’t tell you a thing.”
He shrugged, unconcerned. “I can be quite persuasive when I choose tobe, Georgiana.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that, my lord. I just watched youpersuadeLady Wylde’s every secret out of her. I’m surprised she didn’t confess to setting the Great Fire of London.”
Lord Haslemere snorted. “That wasn’t her every secret,I promise you.”
Georgiana bit her lip, an uneasy knot in her stomach. The very last thing she wanted was for Lord Haslemere to begin asking the duchess questions about Clara Beauchamp. “I don’t see how the duchess would know what happened, given she wasn’t at the ball. There must be someone else we can ask who’d know more.”
“Who? If you recall, Lord Draven is unconscious.”
“But there were dozens of other people there, my lord. The Duke of Kenilworth, for one. Mrs. Bury said he spent a great deal of time in Oxfordshire with Lord Draven. Surely, he would have been invited to such a grand houseparty as that?”
Lord Haslemere considered it, but shook his head. “Perhaps, but I’d rather discuss it with Jane first.”
Georgiana, who’d begun to grow quite desperate, was casting about for some logical reason they shouldn’t bring this matter to the duchess when the carriage slowed. She glanced out the window, expecting to see the Clifford School, but to her surprise, she saw they’d turned down Grosvenor Street.
Grosvenor Street?Why were they—
Oh, no. Dear God,no. Georgiana’s stomach fell.
