Page 33 of To Dare the Devil

“No!” she said at once, not wanting to offend the poor man when his wife’s flighty behaviour must have done nothing to bolster his confidence. “No, you’re very handsome and… and not that old.”

“Not that old,” he repeated doubtfully, though amusement shone in his eyes.

“Well, how old are you?” she demanded, and then rushed to apologise. “I beg your pardon, I ought not….”

“No, no,” he waved this away. “I’m ancient, as must be obvious. To you, any fellow over two and twenty must seem ancient at any rate. Almost thirty might as well be a hundred and fifty to a young woman, I suppose,” he said sadly.

Rosamund giggled. “Almost,” she repeated mischievously.

“I’ll be thirty next year,” he said, looking a bit put out.

“Methuselah,” she murmured, her voice trembling with amusement, and rather surprised at herself for being so cheeky.

“You,” he said severely, “are not half so sweet as you look. Methuselah, indeed!”

She bit her lip, and he sent her a crooked grin. “Well, we have the beginnings of a plan, Lady Rosamund. Let’s see what else we can come up with, eh?”

3rd June 1842, The Countess St Clair’s Spring Ball, St James’s, London.

“Well, he’s very handsome. Rather dashing, actually,” Kathy said, regarding the Viscount Hargreaves, who was speaking with Rosamund’s father. Her friend seemed taken with the man who had clearly made an impression.

“He’s a lot of fun, too. Very charming.”

“Yes, he’s well liked. That’s why it was such a dreadful scandal, of course, with his wife, I mean.”

“Where is she?” Rosamund asked, obviously dying to know what the woman looked like.

Kathy craned her neck but found no sign of her. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t trouble yourself to meet her, though. She was frightfully rude to Mama, you know.”

“No! Why?” Rosamund asked, looking horrified.

“Because Papa isn’t a gentleman and because Hart and I were foundling children. She made some rude comment within Mama’s hearing. On purpose, I might add. She’s a spiteful cat.”

“Oh,” Rosamund said, appearing crestfallen to know her new friend was married to someone so unkind.

Kathy nodded, grimacing. “I’m only repeating gossip, of course, which I ought not. But they married very young. A whirlwind romance, apparently. My father said his parents ought to have been shot for letting it go ahead, because everyone could see they were ill matched. He was only eighteen and head over ears. She’s actually a little older, I think. Only a year or two, not much, but Hart said she was a flirt even then.”

“Hartley knows her?”

Kathy pulled a face and nodded. “I think that’s why she was rude to Mama, between you and me. She….” Kathy lowered her voice. “She tried to seduce him, but Hart refused her. She’s hated him ever since.”

“Oh, poor Lord Hargreaves.”

Kathy patted Rosamund’s hand. The poor girl looked stricken on the man’s account, not that Kathy blamed her. It was a tragic story. The idea of being trapped in a marriage with a wife that not only did not love you but continued to make a fool of you in public must be beyond bearing.

“Yes, that’s what people always say. ‘Poor Lord Hargreaves.’ Can you imagine how that makes him feel?”

Rosamund shook her head. “It’s a wonder he’s not a bitter, angry man. I think I would feel angry.”

“Oh, he’s had his moments. According to the scandal sheets, at least, but I think perhaps he’s past caring now. That’s what people say, anyway. Oh, my….” Kathy’s stomach dropped as she saw Lord Vane crossing the ballroom. She spun around to face Rosamund. “Is my hair still neat or is it a mess? Do I look fine? I look fine, don’t I?”

“It’s lovely. You look lovely,” Rosamund said, frowning.

Kathy glanced down and smoothed her skirts out and then cursed herself. She was acting like a prize ninny. What was wrong with her? Her heart was racing, her skin prickling with the anticipation of being in his arms. Foolish creature, stop being so silly! She could have no romantic interest in the man, she reminded herself severely.

“Miss de Beauvoir?”

She turned, doing her utmost to paste a calm smile to her mouth when her insides had decided to dance a mad jig and she had a terrible desire to giggle for no reason. Good Lord, but this man turned her into such a twit.