Page 20 of Souvenir of Love

“If only she’d exercised such dignity earlier,” he said bitterly.I’d like to beat those upstart young bucks to a bloody pulp…

“What’s done is done, Rafe, you and I know better than most that the past cannot be mended. The question before us now is, how shall we make the best of this disaster?”

“What do you propose?”

“I think Louisa was right. Elizabeth should return to the countryside until this scandal has run its course.”

“Scandals in the ton never run their course. If Elizabeth leaves town, speculation might take another, more malicious turn.” His hand strayed to his wife’s belly. “I will not have the family name damaged any further; I will see an end to it.”

Alix covered his hand with hers and looked up at him. “Will you demand that James Dinsmore offer for her, then?”

“James Dinsmore.” He spat the name as if something foul had crossed his tongue. “Have that foul libertineprofitfrom disgracing my sister? He’d squander her dowry on waistcoats, gloves, and baubles for other women. I swear to you, Alix, I will do everything in my power to make certain James Dinsmore never lays a hand on my sister again.”

James hadn’tthe slightest intention of dining with Anne. After giving instructions to have his purchases delivered, he headeddirectly for his private club. The setting wasn’t quite as rich as White’s or Boodles, but then neither was the play at cards or dice. It was exclusive, and quiet, and the conversation more likely to run to economics and political events abroad than to the latest social scandals at home.

He inhaled sharply as he mounted the steps; he could imagine what Anne would have to say about her ride in the park, a malicious stream of gossip about Elizabeth that would doubtless continue through the soup, meat, sweets, and brandy.He understood her need to savor her revenge. He handed his hat and cape to a servant. But he was plagued by concerns about Elizabeth’s welfare. He’d debated with his internal misgivings—he didn’t dare call them conscience—throughout the day.

Elizabeth might be young and inexperienced, but she knew the rules of decorum—everyyoung girl entering her first season had such things pounded into her head.Often, he reflected,to the exclusion of all other practical thought. And she knewhisreputation.

James gestured for a servant to bring him a brandy. He was a wastrel, a libertine, a worthless cad. She had no business entering a secluded library with him. He took a swallow of brandy. She had no business kissing him. Foolish chit, she had no businesstrustinghim. What had she been thinking? Everyone knew he wasn’t worth a damn.

Several young men, clustered around a table scattered with glasses and bottles of wine, waved him over.They’d be talking about the revolutionary tribunals in France; he wasn’t in the mood. A pinched-looking gentleman glanced up from a heavy tome he was perusing and nodded.Morton. He’d want to discuss the trial and execution of Louis XVI. A useless exercise—what was done was done. A heavyset gentleman, elegantly clad in gray silk, caught his eye and crooked a thick finger.Lord Grenville, a politician with a notoriously jaundiced view of theworld. James smiled; Grenville was just the sort of company he required.

“James.” Grenville gestured to an empty chair. “Good of you to join me. Wasn’t sure I’d find you here this evening.”

“Indeed?” James arched a brow. “And why ever not?”

“You’re quite the talk of the town today. Is it true you led Lady Elizabeth Harcrest astray?”

“Grenville, old man, I’d have thought such gossip was beneath you.”

“I don’t spread the stuff, my boy.” Something like a smile curved Grenville’s thin lips. “But I do collect it.”

“Why should it interest you if I dally with a lady?”

“I understand you did much more than dally…” He waved a heavy hand. “But that is not what interests me. I’m curious as to why you did it. Moreham’s a powerful man, with powerful friends.”

James shrugged. “The lady’s charms are powerful, too.” He took a sip of brandy. “Have you seen her?”

“I have. She’s charming. But there’s equally lovely and far less dangerous prey to be found…”

“Perhaps I enjoyed the challenge.”

“Then I’ve read you wrong, Dinsmore. You’ve always struck me as a man who does things for a purpose, not one of these fools who dash up the mountain simply because it’s there.”

James swirled the liquor in his glass, watching candlelight dance on amber. “Damn waste of time, dashing up mountains. And to what end? Simply to beat one’s chest about cresting the summit of a rock?”

Grenville took a slice of cheese from a platter in the middle of the table and chewed thoughtfully. “Seems like your sister Anne is doing much of the crowing over this particular accomplishment. Did you seduce Lady Elizabeth out of some notion of revenge?”

“I’ve no interest in revenge.” James sipped his brandy and eyed Grenville over his glass.

Grenville matched his stare. “A sense of loyalty, then?”

James’s eyes glanced down. “That’s a handsome waistcoat, Grenville. Who’s your tailor?”

Grenville didn’t waste a glance at his lavender and gray waistcoat. “No one nearly fashionable enough for you, Dinsmore.” He reached for another slice of cheese. “I thought I had the right of it; you did seduce her for Anne. Noble, in a perverse sort of way. But now what, my friend, shall you offer for her?”

“Can you see me as a husband?” James plucked a slice of cheese from the platter. “I doubt Moreham could. He’d never have me.”