“But, Father—”
“Virgil, spit it out or wait until tomorrow morning. I’ll be free between ten and eleven.”
“I saw cousin Alexandra last night.”
The duke paused, his tea halfway to his thin, unsmiling mouth. “That is the news that got you out of bed before noon? Of course she’s in London. The Fontaines arrived here four days ago.”
Virgil shook his head, a rush of pure glee warming his veins. Surprising His Grace was rare enough to warrant marking the occasion with a national holiday. Especially when the surprise meant someone else would be the focus of Monmouth’s ire for a change. “She wasn’t with the Fontaines.”
“She’s found employment, then.” Monmouth pushed away from the table. “That should keep her out of trouble. Excuse me. It’s bad form to keep Haster and the prime minister waiting.”
If Virgil knew anything, it was not to let such a moment slip through his fingers, even if he did have to rush it a bit. “She’s living at Balfour House,” he said to his father’s retreating back.
The duke swung around again. “She’s living where?”
“At Balfour House. I saw her in a box at Vauxhall Gardens, sitting right beside Kilcairn. He nearly bit my head off when I approached to inquire after her.”
“Kilcairn has his cousin in town, I heard. She’s of age or something.”
“Yes, I saw her, too. She’s a pretty little dab. Nearly as pretty as cousin Alexandra.”
Monmouth strode to the dining room door, shut it, and resumed his seat. “You’re certain it was she, and that she was with Kilcairn? You weren’t intoxicated, were you, boy?”
“No, Father.” Thank goodness he hadn’t begun drinking—heavily, anyway—until after he’d left the Gardens. “It was definitely her, and him. I told you, he was so irritated at my approach, I had to give him a setdown to shut him up. Very hostile, and with a crowd standing about, too.”
“Damnation!” the duke exploded. “She should know better, even with her father’s poor lineage. After that idiocy we had to suffer through with that nobody Welkins, I’ve bloody well had enough. If something foul happens again with her after a peer like Kilcairn, the Retting name and reputation would never escape unscathed.”
“I could scarcely believe it myself,” Virgil said solemnly, nodding. “Right under our noses, as though she didn’t care a hang about the standing of her relations. She knows we spend the Season in town.”
“She might have gone to Yorkshire if she intended to continue carrying on like a strumpet.” Monmouth slammed his fist on the table, rattling the china. “I have a tariff bill to present in Parliament, for God’s sake.” With another growl he stood again. “I shall make some discreet inquiries about theton’s opinion in this,” he announced. “I may have to denounce her publicly if this display continues.”
The duke yanked open the door and stomped down the hall toward his private office. Virgil helped himself to the substantial remains of breakfast. Now Kilcairn and Alexandra would see which of them was the stupid buffoon. Their happy little rut-fest was about to come to a very unclimactic conclusion.
“This was a stupid idea.” Alexandra said, nibbling on a biscuit and scanning the narrow, quiet street.
“It was your stupid idea,” Vixen returned. “Just remember that. And quit looking about like that. I feel like we’re about to be ambushed by Bonaparte or something.”
“I can’t help it.” Alexandra nodded her thanks as a waiter brought them another plate of sandwiches. Taking luncheon at the quaint outdoor café had seemed a grand idea for her Monday off, but that had been before Vauxhall Gardens, and before she’d realized her cousin knew she was in London.
“I’m sure Lord Virgil won’t even be awake yet. And the clubs are blocks from here, even if he is.”
“You’re right, of course. It’s silly of me. Please, have a cucumber sandwich.” It wasn’t just Virgil who concerned her, though. It was everyone who might have heard what he said, and everyone those everyones might have talked to about it. She forced a smile. “So. Tell me about your latest conquest.”
“No one seems to believe me when I say I’m simply not interested in marriage,” Lady Victoria bemoaned, then flashed a quick grin. “If I actually married someone, I wouldn’t be able to have those very interesting little conversations like the one I had with your Lord Kilcairn the other night.”
Alexandra choked on her tea. “I know you two chatted,” she croaked, “but what was so interesting?”
Her friend rose and circled the table to smack Alexandra between the shoulder blades. “For goodness’ sake, you’re jealous, aren’t you?”
She cleared her throat, wishing she’d had a moment’s warning before Victoria sprang such a thing on her. “I am not jealous! I don’t even like him all that much. And he’s notmyLord Kilcairn.”
“Well,” Victoria said, as she took her seat again, “neither are you my companion, governess, or tutor any longer, I don’thaveto tell you anything Kilcairn and I might have discussed.”
Alexandra was ready to throttle Vixen if she didn’t confess what she and Kilcairn had chatted about. She was not jealous, though; at least she’d made that clear. “I don’t care if you tell me anything or not,” she said haughtily. “From my experience, Kilcairn rarely says a repeatable word, anyway.”
The younger woman chuckled. “You have become positively transparent.”
Alexandra frowned. “I have not.”
