The Truth about the Viscount (Whispers of the Ton #4)

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

D aniel cleared his throat, clasped his hands behind his back, and looked his friend straight in the eye.

“I do not know what it is that you mean.”

“I think you do.” Lord Milthorpe’s gaze sharpened. “You have been pulling back from society, standing with a somewhat unpleasant look on your face at most events, and I am sure that you have heard the rumors being whispered about you, have you not? They have only begun these last few days and–”

Scowling, Daniel shrugged as the music from the ball swirled around him.

“I do not care what society has to say about me. I am soon to leave London anyway, with no intention of returning unless it is for business.”

Lord Milthorpe’s eyebrows lifted.

“I have not enlightened you to my present state of mind, I know,” Daniel continued, speaking quickly to get the explanation out as fast as he could, “but I have realized how much of a part the ton played in what happened with Lord Newforth. Had he not been able to use society’s inclination towards gossip and the like against Isabella, then she would not have been in such a difficulty.” He put one hand on his friend’s shoulder for a moment. “That is not to say that I am at all displeased with the betrothal, you understand. I see that Isabella has grown in her fondness for you and I shall always be very grateful indeed for what you did in stepping in and offering your hand. I am more than contented with the match, I assure you.”

“I understand what you mean.” Lord Milthorpe’s frown grew heavier. “Though does this now mean that you intend to care nothing whatsoever for what the ton says of you? You must know that it will affect Isabella.”

Daniel shook his head.

“Not in any severe way, I am sure. The ton is excited about her betrothal ball and, thereafter, there will be the wedding to plan. Once you are wed – which will not be more than a few months away – then I shall return to my estate and stay there. I have no desire to be a part of the ton any longer, given just how much darkness and shadow there is within it. I will pull myself from that as best I can and, once I am settled at my country estate, all shall be well. I will care nothing about whether or not society whispers about me. I shall spend my time in much more suitable endeavors and pursuits.”

Lord Milthorpe ran one hand over his chin.

“And what of your own situation?”

“Situation?”

His friend nodded.

“You are unwed. You will require a match soon, will you not? You have the heir to produce.” This was a thought that had not come to Daniel’s mind at any point thus far and it gave him pause. “And this manner of yours, where it is noticeable to everyone that you have pulled away from the ton and are now appearing ill-tempered and disagreeable, does that not concern you also, as regards any future connection with a lady of society?”

“I… I had not thought of that.”

“You have not danced a single dance this evening, nor at the last three balls we have attended,” Lord Milthorpe continued, his words seeming to sink into Daniel’s soul, weighing him down. “That has been noticed by society and, even though you say that you do not wish to be a part of the ton any longer – something that I can understand – that does mean that you might be making any future connections a little difficult.”

Daniel chewed the edge of his lip, his brow furrowing.

“That is not something I have considered,” he said, rubbing one hand over his face. “But I cannot say that I wish for a bride at any time soon. It could be that I retreat to my estate and, in some years, return to London to find a bride. I am sure that society will have no interest in me then.”

Lord Milthorpe snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Do you really believe that the ton will have forgotten? It is a beast with a long memory, my friend. Whispers and rumors can continue for years! Do you not recall Lord and Lady Harrington? When he was to wed, the ton reminded us of just how much of a philanderer his late father was, whispering that he would, no doubt, take after him in the same way! It did not do his betrothed any good whatsoever, though they did still marry in the end.”

Another reason that I dislike society, Daniel thought to himself, letting out a long breath.

“I cannot bring myself to be contented with all that society has to offer, not now that I have realized just how much difficulty it brings, how much darkness there is in the gossip and the whispers it so often clings to.”

“Then what are you to do?”

“Oh, Lord Hastings! I am sure that you must have seen it, but we are all eager to know what it is that you think of it!”

A bright, much too loud voice forced Daniel’s attention away from his present conversation and he turned his head, looking straight down into the eyes of Lady Hannah, a lady whom he had been acquainted with, some time ago. She was standing with two other young ladies, one of whom was giggling behind her fan and the other who did not seem to know where to look, given the way her gaze darted about.

He cleared his throat, a trifle irritated.

“I do not know what you mean.”

“The London Chronicle!” Lady Hannah exclaimed, one hand reaching out to touch his arm lightly as her eyes twinkled. “Surely you must have seen it! I thought it a wonderful likeness.”

“Especially since you have been rather… brooding of late,” said the lady with the fan, her words a little muffled but reaching Daniel’s ears, nonetheless. He scowled, turning his head sharply to look into Lord Milthorpe’s face but his friend only shrugged, clearly as lost as Daniel was.

“I do not know of what you speak.”

Lady Hannah giggled, the other two ladies joining her in their teasing laughter.

“Then might I suggest, Lord Hastings, that you find a copy of The London Chronicle and look for yourself?”

Daniel twisted on his heel without a word and strode to the ballroom door. He would, no doubt, be able to find The London Chronicle here in the house, though it would not be in the ballroom. He would be best to find the butler. His stomach twisted sharply as he thought about what might be contained within, beginning to worry that the drawing – for that was what it surely must be – had captured him in a less than kind manner. He did not know who the artist was but, he considered, it must be the same one, who had captured his sister and Lord Milthorpe in such a perfect likeness.

“You there.” Seeing a footman, he held up one hand. “I require a copy of The London Chronicle. At once, if you please.”

“Whatever are you doing?”

Daniel turned, just as the footman scurried off.

“I want to know what those ladies were speaking of.”

Lord Milthorpe shrugged.

“It will just be a drawing of you, as there was of myself and your sister. Why does it matter what it is? You will see it soon enough - does it need to be this evening?”

A curl of worry rose in Daniel’s stomach as he remembered the glitter that had been in Lady Hannah’s eyes.

“There were remarks made,” he muttered, beginning to pace up and down the hallway as Lord Milthorpe rolled his eyes. “One of them said I was brooding.”

“But you have been,” Lord Milthorpe pointed out, with a heavy sigh that told Daniel of his exasperation. “Besides which, I do not understand why you should care. Have you not only just finished informing me that you care nothing about society? That you want to step back from it?”

“I do not want to be mocked,” Daniel answered, spinning on his heel and then looking Lord Milthorpe directly in the eye. “Do you not understand? This is precisely what I have been speaking of! Why am I the focus of this artist, whoever it is? There must be a purpose behind it. It cannot be merely that it has been done out of some vague artistic interest.”

“My Lord.”

The footman returned just as Daniel finished speaking and, after snatching the newspaper from the man’s hand, Daniel made his way to a quieter part of the hallway, Lord Milthorpe hurrying after him. His heart was beginning to pound as he turned one page and then the next, only then to pause.

There .

The drawing was of him, just as he had suspected. He was standing with his back to the wall of a room, a heaviness in his frame and his head a little bowed, though his eyes were sharp, fixed on something ahead of him. Daniel blinked, trying to think of when he might have been seen in such a stance, only for his gaze to travel to the few short sentences below the drawing.

‘There can be little doubt in the mind of the reader as to who this gentleman is! We have all noticed the darkness of his demeanor of late, the way he has shrunk back from all of us. What is all the more surprising is that this has come in the wake of his sister’s joyous betrothal! Could it be jealousy that has driven the Viscount into the shadows? Or is there something else that troubles him?’

Daniel read the lines four times in a row before letting out a long, slow breath, fighting against the cresting anger that rose within him. This artist, whoever it was, had not only captured his visage, but also thought to write about his character! As a result, there would soon be whispers and rumors spreading around London about him, all the more! Closing his eyes, his jaw set tight, Daniel heard the newspaper crumple in his fist, his fury soon overwhelming him.

“Might I?”

Struggling to release the newspaper, Daniel finally opened his eyes, exhaled, and then offered it to Lord Milthorpe. He watched as his friend read the lines and then frowned before, much to Daniel’s irritation, he shrugged as though there was very little here to concern him.

“You have seen it now, yes?” Lord Milthorpe set The London Chronicle aside. “Might we now return to the ball? Your sister is with your mother at present, but I am very soon to dance with her, and I do not want to be tardy.”

Throwing up his hands, Daniel glared at his friend.

“How can you say such a thing? How can you show so little concern?”

Lord Milthorpe’s eyebrows lifted.

“I beg your pardon?”

“This artist, whoever it is, has chosen to write about me in a manner which is not only unfair but entirely improper.”

Lord Milthorpe shrugged.

“It is only a few remarks and, quite frankly, none of them are untrue.”

“But they ought not to be speaking about me for even a moment!” Daniel exclaimed, suddenly mortified. “I do not want the ton to say even a single thing about me!”

“I am afraid that you cannot control that, as well you know.” Lord Milthorpe sniffed and then turned away. “Now, I am going to find Isabella. What is it that you wish to do, Hastings?”

Daniel glared down at the drawing as though, somehow, it was responsible for his present state of upset.

“I shall find the artist,” he grated, his anger growing steadily. “And I shall demand to know what their intention was in not only drawing me but in writing such things about me.” His expression still tight, he looked up again at Lord Milthorpe. “ That is what I intend to do, Milthorpe. And I intend do to it now.”