Chapter 5 #2
As he came up behind her, Branford deliberately cleared his throat.
“Oh!” Alex grimaced in contrition, though a spark of mischief glinted through her lowered lashes. “Of course, I didn’t mean …”
Mr. Simpson stared wide-eyed, first at her, then at the earl, mesmerized as if waiting for a snake to strike its helpless victim.
Branford threw back his head and let out a laugh. “I shall endeavor not to bore you excessively during the next waltz.”
Alex smiled. “You are teasing me, Lord Branford.”
“Which you richly deserve.”
“Is this the author of the descriptions of Riverton?” inquired Mr. Heppleford in a reedy voice. He exhibited none of the wariness of his other colleague regarding the earl. “You have promise, young fellow. If you will apply yourself to the subject, we may make a botanist of you yet.”
Alex’s smile broadened. “Mr. Heppleford is president of The London Botanical Society.” A pause. “Mr. Heppleford, this is indeed Lord Branford.”
The two men bowed politely to each other.
“Mr. Simpson you already know,” she added.
Branford nodded, aware that the man still looked nervous around him.
“Now, milord, I have a question concerning the symmetry of the east gardens at Riverton,” began Heppleford. “Mr. Simpson is under the impression …” He paused to sample a lobster canapé and take a glass of champagne from a passing footman.
“Alex!”
A tall young man, perhaps a few years her senior, approached before Heppleford could continue. Branford noted that the fellow was dressed fashionably enough, but the cut and material of his evening clothes clearly indicated his lack of title and wealth.
However, the earl noted that the fellow himself was not nearly as plain as his dress. He had well-chiseled features, gold-flecked brown curls, and expressive chocolate-dark eyes—which lit up with a warm glow as he smiled at Alex.
“Hallo, Charles,” she said, looking equally pleased to see him.
The earl was quick to observe that the fellow held her outstretched hand a trifle longer than was called for by polite convention. He also couldn’t help but notice that Alex’s smile was quite radiant when she was truly happy to see someone.
For some reason, he felt a flash of irritation … which he quenched with a long swallow of champagne plucked from the tray of a passing footman..
Alex quickly introduced the newcomer to him as Charles Duckleigh.
Branford responded with a frosty nod.
“A country set is forming, Alex,” said Charles, without a second glance at the earl. “I pray that you will do me the honor of agreeing to a dance?”
“Will you excuse me, sir?” said Alex. It was a statement rather than a question, for she was already moving toward dance floor with her partner.
Branford’s lips compressed. Damn the chit for abandoning him to the London Botanical Society scholars …
And, he wondered, who the devil was the pup, to be on a first name basis with her?
“Ah, as I was saying Lord Branford …” said Heppleford, returning to his earlier statement.
Gentlemanly manners made the earl stifle the urge to turn on his heel and walk away.
But though he only intended to listen with half an ear, Branford soon found himself drawn into the conversation.
It was novel to be spoken to as a fellow enthusiast rather than …
a murderer. Or worse. Even Simpson seemed to lose the wary look on his face as he became animated in defense of his theory on how to arrange certain shrubs to ensure maximum bloom.
And, in truth, the men were actually quite interesting …
As soon as Alex and her friend were out of earshot of Branford and the two botanists, Duckleigh leaned toward her. “Alex, I had heard rumors that he was bothering you …” His gaze shifted for an instant to Branford and then back again
“He is not bothering me in the least,” she answered tartly.
The young man looked perplexed for a moment, then his face brightened. “Of course. You are much too smart to fall prey to his advances. I’m heartily glad to hear you have sent him away with a flea in his ear.”
The steps of the dance took them apart for a bit.
When they came together again, Alex adroitly changed the subject of discussion to the last lecture of The London Botanical Society.
That brought a light to Duckleigh’s eyes, as he, too, was a member of the society, and all mention of the Earl of Branford was forgotten.
As the two of them returned to Branford and the botanists, Duckleigh murmured an observation about the crowd that made her laugh. Eyes sparking with amusement, she leaned close to whisper a reply.
Engrossed in Charles’s pith comments about overdressed duchess, Alex didn’t see the earl put down his glass and excuse. himself from his companions. It wasn’t until he moved to join them that she was aware of his presence.
“I hope you are not too tired to grant me my waltz, Miss Chilton.” He held out his hand without waiting for a reply. “I believe the music is already starting.”
Charles regarded him with narrowed eyes but stepped aside without a word.
Puzzled by the unmistakable chill that suddenly swirled around the three of them, she allowed herself to be led out to the dance floor.
Branford cleared his throat but remained silent for the first few measures of the dance. She dutifully followed, concentrating on the intricate steps of an upcoming spin.
“Another member of your Society?” asked the earl abruptly once they had finished the move.
“If you mean Charles, he is a cousin of Lord Halford and serves as his secretary,” she replied. “And yes, he is a member—an enthusiastic one. His interest is focused on herbs.”
“Among other things,” muttered Branford under his breath. After guiding her through a quick twirl, he added, “He sounds like a dull dog.”
Alex cocked her head. “I suppose he does to a man of your interests.”
“And just what do you mean by that?” he asked
Alex looked at him unwaveringly. “It is well known that you are a true Corinthian, sir—an expert driver of high-perch phaetons, a superb rider, a deadly shot—”
“Have a care Miss Chilton,” he said softly. “Few men would dare to bait me thus.”
Alex’s eyes widened in surprise, then took on a look of acute embarrassment. “Milord,” she faltered, “I meant no … that is …” She let out a sigh. “Oh, it must be horribly unpleasant to be the subject of such nasty rumors and innuendo.”
It was Branford’s turn to look surprised. “Which of the rumors have you heard?” he asked.
“Well, there are the two duels,” she said slowly.
“Ah, yes, the duels. Pray, tell me how do they go at the moment?” There was an edge to his voice.
“Do I simply put a period to some poor fellow’s existence because I wish to continue dallying with his wife, or has it gotten more interesting?
Perhaps he has actually found me between the sheets with his bride and demands immediate satisfaction,” he said in a bitter tone.
” A tiny muscle on his jaw twitched. “Forgive me if I have shocked you, Miss Chilton.”
“Actually, as the story goes, it is the wife who demands satisfaction. Before she allows you to leave her bed to deal with the enraged husband.”
Branford struggled to suppress a chuckle. “How the devil do you have any notion of …”
“Because my brother credits me with enough sense to speak to me as he would to one of his male acquaintances.”
“He should be birched.”
Alex allowed a small smile. “Yes, well, he actually implied that himself just this morning.”
“For what reason?”
“I told him in no uncertain terms that I was perfectly capable of deciding with whom I wished to dance and converse.”
The humor immediately drained from Branford’s face. There was a perceptible pause before he spoke again. “What else have you heard?”
“She met his gaze squarely. “Everything, I imagine.”
“Then you are either very brave or very foolish,” he said coldly.
Alex frowned. “I think I am neither, sir.”
“Do you not give any credence to tittle-tattle?” asked Branford.
She didn’t answer for a moment, thinking back on her own experience with the rumor mills.
“Growing up, I would hear things that were … twisted versions of the truth. My father was the subject of much speculation due to his inquiries into the natural world. In Cornwall he was rumored to have been a warlock due to his nocturnal ramblings and collecting of odd plants and specimens. Needless to say, we were soon forced to leave the area.” The unpleasant memories drew an exasperated sigh.
“So, I prefer to judge people for myself.”
A ghost of a smile reappeared on Branford’s face. “I suppose that’s because you believe in the basic rule of science, Miss Chilton—one learns the truth through empirical knowledge.”
As the last notes of the waltz danced through the air, he steered her back toward the potted palm. “I believe your botanist friends eagerly await your return—and offer a safe haven. I hope I have lived up to my promise not to bore you.” He bowed slightly. “Good evening.”
“Milord …”
But he had already turned and disappeared in the crowd.
Branford wandered into the card room and helped himself to a glass of brandy.
He needed something stronger than champagne to ease the knot deep inside his chest. Hell’s teeth.
He usually had his emotions under tight rein.
What had happened tonight to cause him to feel on edge? It was disconcerting to be so …
“Lord Branford, I would like to have a word with you, if you please.”
The voice coming from behind him was trying hard to sound both deep and self-assured.
The earl turned to face a young man not quite his own height. The face was only vaguely familiar, but the flashing color and intensity of the eyes were all too recognizable.
Branford inwardly cursed whatever pernicious forces of the cosmos were turning his evening arse over teakettle..
“We were introduced last night, sir. I am Justin Chilton, Miss Alexandra Chilton’s brother. I wish to have a word with you.” He gestured toward the hallway. “The library is empty.”
Heaving an exasperated sigh, Branford followed without protest.
When the door was firmly closed behind them, Justin took a deep breath, his chin coming up in precisely the same manner as his sister’s when she felt challenged.
“Sir, I must ask you to refrain from dancing with my sister again,” he began. “In fact, I would prefer that you refrain from any further contact whatsoever.”
Branford regarded him with an icy stare—the one that usually set men to quaking in their boots.
The young man’s jaw clenched, but he refused to blink.
“Your sister is of an age to make her own decisions,” replied Branford. “And she appears to be more than competent to make up her own mind about such things.”
“She does not understand Polite Society. She knows her books and her plants and her eccentric friends at the Botanical Society, not the rules and the … the games that the beau monde play in order to amuse themselves.” A pause. “Therefore I really must insist that you cease your attentions.”
The earl responded with an ominous softness. “Just what are you implying, Mr. Chilton?”
Justin drew in a deep breath, his brows knitting together. “I—I have very little experience in this sort of thing,” he replied honestly. “No doubt I shall say this badly.”
He hesitated. “I mean no disrespect to you, sir. How you choose to … to conduct your affairs is not for me to comment on. It is my sister with whom I’m concerned.
Despite her age and her ideas on the world, she has very little experience with …
well, with the opposite sex. I do not wish to see her hurt. ”
Justin swallowed hard. “I thought that if I spoke to you, man to man, you might agree to seek … what you wish with someone who understands how things are done here in Town.”
Branford couldn’t help but be struck by the young man’s sincerity—and his courage.
Normally, he would have sent such an impudent pup slinking away with a scathing set-down.
But there was something about Chilton’s quiet determination, the set of his shoulders, the earnest concern for his family that reminded him of another young man …
The earl thinned his lips and then asked, “Are you a good shot, Chilton?”
A muscle in Justin’s jaw twitched but his chin rose another fraction higher. “I am considered adequate by my acquaintances at home.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you at Manton’s.”
Justin colored. “I do not have either the funds or the connections to gain entrance at that august establishment.”
Branford sighed and reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an engraved calling card. “Tell Watters I sent you,” he said, thrusting the card into Justin’s hand. “He will arrange for everything.”
The young man looked utterly confused. “I … I don’t understand.
You are arranging for me to join Manton’s?
” His expression slowly altered to one of suspicion.
“I cannot be fobbed off that easily, sir. I will not abandon my sister’s welfare just to gain entrance to the most exclusive shooting gallery in Town—”
“I have a proposal to make,” cut in Branford.
Justin fell silent, a frown still clouding his features.
“I prefer not to have to deal with your histrionics every time I choose to converse with your sister—by the by, I commend you for at least having the sense to do it in private this time. But any more such efforts to guard your sister will only be damaging to her reputation, not mine, if they become public knowledge. And they most certainly will be become extremely tiresome to me.”
He paused. “I have no intention of hurting your sister in any way, Chilton. I give you my solemn word of honor on that. And if you ever feel I have not lived up to that pledge, I shall meet you on the field of honor under whatever terms you care to offer.”
Justin looked confused. “Then why are you sending me to Manton’s?”
“Because I am accorded to be a deadly shot, Chilton. If we meet on the dueling field, I prefer that you be more than adequate with a pistol. Contrary to what you may have heard, I take no pleasure in murdering boys.”
Justin studied the earl’s hard, impenetrable expression. “Very well, sir,” he said slowly. “I will accept your word as a gentleman.”
“Excellent. Now kindly go away, and stay out of my sight.”
Branford stalked from the room and retrieved his greatcoat from a footman. As he stepped into the cool night air, he shook his head ruefully.
Driving a bluestocking, on-the-shelf young lady to Kew Gardens for a day of looking at plants … sponsoring a green pup to Manton’s …
If he didn’t have a care, it would be his own fearsome reputation among the beau monde that would soon be in shreds.