Compromising the Marquess Page 6

  “Oh, you didn’t ask me in the usual way. If you ever do that, I shall probably think you’re sickening for something. You merely said that it would be a fate worse than death if you were obliged to entertain my new friends.” Flick offered him a transfiguring smile. “Naturally, I immediately understood that was precisely what you wished to do.”

  Gabriel laughed. “She has you there, Hal.”

  “You think so?”

  “She’s full of herself because Darius Grantley will be here.”

  “I invited his mama,” Flick said, a little too insistently. “Since Darius is presently at home, I could hardly exclude him.”

  “Of course you couldn’t.” Rob tweaked her nose.

  “Well, he is one of your closest friends, Rob, so I thought you’d be pleased to see him. After all, he’s hidden away in London half the time nowadays, working away at being a barrister for the poor and needy.”

  “Ah, so you did it for me then?” Rob laughed. “I beg your pardon, squirt. I didn’t realise that.”

  “I admire Darius’s determination to stand up for those less fortunate, who couldn’t normally afford the services of a good barrister. Someone has to take the part of the common man.”

  “Won’t pay the rent though, will it?” Rob remarked. “I doubt the poor beggars he defends are able to pay much at all.”

  Hal shook his head. “What motivates you, Flick? You turned down all the eligible gentlemen who could have kept you in style, yet you encourage an impecunious landowner.”

  “I do not encourage Darius,” she protested. “And he will soon be a great deal more than a landowner. He’s making quite a name for himself in legal circles.”

  “He’s making a name for himself as a supporter of lost causes,” Hal said, raising his eyes. “Is he ever tempted to accept briefs from wealthy clients?”

  “Money isn’t everything,” Flick said defiantly. “He has principles. It’s a rare trait in a gentleman, and one I admire. What’s more, he makes me laugh.”

  Hal glowered. “Just as long that’s all he makes you do.”

  “Absolutely.” Rob exchanged a loaded glance with his brothers.

  Gabriel sprang to his feet. “I say, he hasn’t made inappropriate advances, has he, Flick?”

  “Oh, you three are impossible!” Flick whirled on her heel. “I do so wish—”

  “I think we’re needed,” Gabriel said, downing his drink. “I hear arrivals.”

  Hal stood at the top of the stairs, ready to greet the first guests. Flick clung to his arm, still chattering away, denying her attraction to Grantley a little too vehemently. She had invited sixteen people altogether, which suited Hal’s purpose. With the four of them, they would be an even twenty at table. Lady Wantage wouldn’t be so annoying in a crowd. Besides, the numbers would provide Hal with the necessary cover to observe Miss Elliott whilst he endeavoured to fathom out what precisely she was up to and how it affected his business.

  The Grantleys were the first to arrive. Hal turned a barking laugh into a cough as Flick blushed when Darius took her hand. Flick rarely allowed anything to embarrass her. He shot a quick glance at Rob. Should they take her infatuation with Grantley seriously? He thought it would have passed by now but appeared to have stood the test of time. He was a handsome rogue, and charming too. Hal could see why he’d appeal to a sheltered young miss like Flick. His connections were respectable, as was Grantley himself, having applied himself to his career in the law with some distinction. But was he a fortune hunter? Perhaps he’d overprotected his sister and there could be no real harm in her having a little fun. Even so, Hal would keep a close eye on that young buck. No one, but no one, would take advantage of Flick’s kind heart.

  Hal inwardly groaned as he observed Lady Bentley ascending the stairs, her daughter Charlotte trailing in her wake.

  “I couldn’t exclude her,” Flick said sweetly. “It would have been an unpardonable slight.”

  “Perhaps not, but there’s no need to look so pleased with yourself,” he muttered out of the side of his month, resigned to having Lady Bentley renew her efforts to interest him in her daughter.

  “I was not aware that my appearance was in any way altered.”

  “Just so long as you don’t spring the Wilkinsons on me as well.”

  “Even I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Ah, Lord Denby.” Lady Bentley stood before Hal, panting and wheezing after her climb up the stairs. “So here we all are.”

  “Indeed, Lady Bentley. Welcome to my house.” He greeted Charlotte with polite cordiality, now thoroughly regretting this soiree. There had to be an easier way to find out what Leah Elliott thought she was playing at.

  “Charlotte has been perfecting her performance at the pianoforte, Lord Denby,” Lady Bentley informed him. “Lady Felicity said there was to be music after dinner and I know how much you enjoy a decent performance.”

  Hal shot Flick an accusing gaze. It was the first he’d heard about music.

  “No doubt Charlotte will be persuaded to exhibit,” Lady Bentley added with determination.

  Hal didn’t doubt it. Somehow he managed not to groan aloud, watching as Flick smoothly ushered the Bentleys into the drawing room and ensured that they were supplied with champagne.

  “Music?” he said to his sister when she returned to his side.

  “Certainly. What else did you expect?”

  “Anything. Why could we not have cards?”

  “Because you get irritated with people when they don’t attend to the game. I don’t recall a card evening here that hasn’t ended in unpleasantness. At least if we have music, you can sit at the back of the room and fall asleep.”

  How Hal wished that was true. He contented himself with a grunt, wondering at Lady Bentley’s tenacity. To some degree he could understand her bafflement at her lack of progress. Charlotte Bentley was pretty enough, well-mannered and, as the daughter of an earl, very much a part of his world. She was also wealthy in her own right, thanks to a large legacy left to her by her grandfather. She had gentlemen queuing for her attentions but, encouraged by her ambitious mother, had set her sights on Hal. Her mother’s estate adjoined the Hall and, as an only child, it would become the property of Charlotte’s husband one day. Hal appeared to be the only person in the locality blind to the advantages of such a match.

  Sir Percy’s party was the last to arrive. Hal barely noticed Augusta Wantage and her quite disgusting air of self-importance. He spared just a few words for Sir Percy, whom he rather liked. He couldn’t remember what he said to Bethany Elliott, who was a very pretty little thing. His eyes were all for her sister, mainly because he was unable to believe the transformation in her.

  Miss Elliott certainly couldn’t lay claim to beauty—her sister left her standing in that respect—but Hal had beautiful women thrown at him everywhere he went. None of them had yet secured his interest in the way this little tease had so effortlessly managed. Leah Elliott’s figure was curvaceous, the hint of breasts he’d detected at their last meeting now obligingly displayed for his lazy perusal. Unlike her sister, who was unable to conceal her nerves, Miss Elliott appeared perfectly at her ease, silver eyes alight with curiosity as she levelled her gaze upon Hal’s face.

  “Ah, Leah, there you are!” Flick hugged each of the sisters. “You look wonderful, both of you.”

  Both girls dipped curtsies and exclaimed over Flick’s gown.

  “Hal,” Flick said, appearing to recall that he was standing, waiting patiently for an introduction. “May I present Miss Elliott and Miss Bethany Elliott, my particular friends. Leah, Beth, this is my beastly brother, the Marquess of Denby.”

  As the girls curtsied, Bethany’s eyes were demurely lowered. Not so Leah’s. They had yet to waver from his face, but her gaze was not full of the hope and blind adoration he’d become immune to over the years. Hers was more an expression of curiosity, as though she was trying to record his features to memory. Hal took Leah’s hand and lifted it to his
lips. He expected her to simper, blush or let forth with a stream of nervous chatter. Such reactions were normal when he focused his attention on any young lady, but it seemed Miss Elliott was made of sterner stuff. She held his gaze, watching him with unnerving stillness as his lips brushed the back of her gloved hand.

  “Miss Elliott,” he said, acknowledging her poise by breaking eye contact first. “My sister has told me much about you.” He turned to her sister and inclined his head. “Miss Bethany. You are both welcome to my house.”

  “Come, Leah, I have need of you.” Lady Wantage’s imperious tone quieted the entire room. “Don’t monopolize the marquess,” she said, without lowering her voice. “It’s very bad form.”

  Hal watched her walk away, the sway of her slender hips bringing to mind just how snugly they’d fitted into the breeches she’d worn the other night. He shook his head, reminding himself that his only interest in the chit was to discover why she attended mills in a poor disguise as a lad. Absolutely nothing more.

  “Our young lad does well as a girl,” Rob said, siding up to Hal and following the direction of his gaze.

  “What’s her game, Rob?” Hal took a glass of champagne from the tray a footman proffered and sipped at it. “I’d give a very great deal to know.”

  “Might be pleasant trying to find out.”

  “Penniless virgins aren’t my usual fare.”

  “Needs must, big brother,” Rob said, chuckling. “Needs must.”

  “Talk to her sister. See what you can find out about their life before they came to Denby.”

  “Looks like I’ve been beaten to it,” he said, nodding towards Bethany Elliott. Gabriel had detached her from the rest of the party and appeared quite taken with her.

  “So it does. No matter, slip Gabe the word. I need to know if we’ve let a fox into the henhouse.”

  “Will do.”

  Hal’s attention was taken up by one of his guests. They spent half an hour in the drawing room, drinking champagne, conducting the type of polite social discourse that bored Hal rigid. Lady Wantage walked about the room, glass in hand, examining everything with a proprietorial air that deeply offended him. She would report every detail, every little change, to his stepmother in a disparaging fashion. Hal didn’t care, he merely objected to the woman herself. As far as he was concerned, she and Lady Denby were cut from the same cloth. Hal continued to observe his nemesis as she mentally catalogued his possessions. Whilst all the other ladies merely sipped at their champagne, Lady Wantage was on her third glass, causing Hal’s derision to increase.

  When dinner was announced, Hal didn’t hesitate to proffer his arm to Leah. “Would you do me the honour, Miss Elliott?”

  She looked surprised by the request. “Surely you ought to—” She cast a glance at some of the more senior ladies present, her aunt amongst them.

  “In my own home I do as I please. If any of my guests find that offensive, I daresay they will not come again.”

  “You make it sound as though you wish that were true.” She placed her hand on his sleeve.

  “A man in my position can afford to do as he likes.” He matched his pace to hers as they traversed the room, all eyes upon them. “It’s one of the privileges of rank.”

  “But surely, with that rank comes responsibility.”

  “I am fully aware of my responsibilities.” He shrugged. “I ought to be. I have had them drummed into me since I was in leading strings.”

  “It’s difficult for someone like me to understand how onerous that must have been. One sees only the outward signs of wealth and privilege.” Miss Elliott covered her mouth with her free hand. “Forgive me, I speak too freely.”

  “Not at all. Your frankness is a pleasant change.”

  Flick had organised everyone else, adroitly managing to finish up on Darius Grantley’s arm. Lady Wantage looked ready to commit murder when she found herself seated towards the foot of the table, away from Hal and his brothers, stuck between the old squire and another elderly gentleman who appeared to find much to admire in Augusta Wantage’s bosom.

  Hal seated Leah on his right, holding the chair until she had arranged her skirts to her satisfaction.

  “Thank you, Lord Denby.”

  He bestowed one of his most intimate smiles on her. “The pleasure’s entirely mine.”

  “You don’t look especially pleased.”

  Hal’s eyebrows shot up. “I admire your backbone, Miss Elliott. Flick is constantly telling me that my habitual expression is fierce, but not many people outside the family have the courage to point that out.”

  “Perhaps that’s because I’m not afraid of you,” she said with an arch smile. “Nor do I require your good opinion.”

  Then what do you require? “Tell me what brings you to Denby, Miss Elliott.”

  “My sister’s health. We live in Wapping, but I daresay you have no idea where that is.”

  “You suppose me ignorant of the geography of my own capital city?” he asked coldly.

  “Perhaps you know where it is, rather like one is aware of the existence of Italy, but I cannot imagine you having occasion to venture into such an unfashionable district.”

  “You lived close to the river?”

  “Yes, in Cinnamon Street.”

  “Then you were near to the timber yards I do business with. Perhaps we passed one another in the street.”

  “I was not aware that you had connections with the timber trade.”

  Hal arched a brow. “Is there any reason you should be?”

  “None whatsoever. I was merely making conversation.” She helped herself to a stuffed pigeon breast from the platter in front of her, picked up the correct cutlery and commenced eating. “It would appear strange if we had nothing to say to one another.”

  “You’re right, of course.” Hal’s mouth curved. He was enjoying Leah’s irreverent company, a breath of fresh air compared to the sycophantic grovelling he normally had to put up with at such gatherings. “You were telling me about Cinnamon Street.”

  She lifted her shoulders, simultaneously declining a second glass of wine from a hovering footman. “There is little to tell. My sister and I grew up there—”

  “Pardon the interruption, but your parents?”

  “Are both dead.” She spoke the words crisply, discouraging further enquiry. “Beth suffers with a complaint of the lung and her physician recommended sea air. I applied to our uncle for his advice—”

  “Your uncle is your guardian?”

  “Not since I reached my majority. Technically, I suppose Beth is still his responsibility, but in actuality it’s me who looks out for her.”

  “But your uncle still offered you the use of his gatehouse, I collect.”

  “Yes, most kindly he did, and thus you find us here.”

  “Your sister looks remarkably well this evening.” Hal spared her a brief glance as she conversed avidly with Gabriel, eyes sparkling, her cheeks pink with animation.

  Leah followed the direction of Hal’s gaze and smiled fondly. “I rejoice to see such a change in her.”

  “Shall you return to Cinnamon Street soon?”

  Leah hesitated. “Our plans are not yet formulated. I must be sure that Beth is entirely well before I subject her to another winter of damp river fog.”

  “Very wise.”

  “I am not prepared to take any chances with my sister’s health,” she said. Hal was surprised by the depth of his reaction to her determination. “She is all I have left in this life,” Leah added, so quietly that he barely heard her.

  “Then she is most fortunate.” Hal smiled at his enigmatic dinner companion. “How do you occupy your time here in Denby, Miss Elliott?”

  “Oh, I never want for occupation. Mrs. Wilkinson has been kind enough to take us under her wing.”

  “How fortunate,” he said drolly.

  “We came here to the Hall just a few days ago, actually. She was most anxious to see you but apparently you weren’t here.”
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  “So Gabriel told me.”

  “Mrs. Wilkinson insists that you to do something about the Boar’s Head. She considers that iniquitous behaviour takes place there.”

  “Really?” Hal quirked a brow. “And what would she have me do about it?”

  “That is a question you ought to put to her.”

  “Since you are one of her disciples, perhaps you will have the goodness to enlighten me.”

  “She insists there is drunkenness and debauched behaviour. She doesn’t think any respectable woman is safe to walk the streets, even in broad daylight.”

  “Mrs. Wilkinson need have no concerns for her own safety.”

  Miss Elliott’s lips twitched. “I gather there was a mill there just the other evening.”

  “Mrs. Wilkinson told you that?”

  “No, but word gets about.”

  “It occurs to me that if the men are fighting one another, they will have no energy left to ravage the town’s women.”

  “Perhaps, but it would ease Mrs. Wilkinson’s mind to hear it from your own lips.”

  “Nothing is likely to ease Mrs. Wilkinson’s mind until we are all living such dull, blameless lives that we are totally miserable.”

  “You consider grown men fighting one another to be exciting?”

  “Absolutely.” He leaned towards her with studied nonchalance. “Would you not like to see for yourself sometime? Only then can you truly judge.”

  “Would you invite your sister to view such a spectacle?” She arched a brow. “How low your opinion of me must be.”

  He bowed his head. “Well said, Miss Elliott.” He touched her wrist. “It was a ridiculous suggestion and one for which you are perfectly entitled to take me to task.”

  “Apology accepted.” She frowned. “If that’s what it actually was.”

  Hal turned, answering a question addressed to him by the lady on his opposite side. He ought to pursue that conversation. He had already spent too long speaking with Miss Elliott.

  “How do you occupy your days here, sir?” Leah asked when he returned his attention to her. “Does organizing your lumber business take up a deal of your time?”