“Lady Meredith is the daughter of an earl,” Trevor said. “She is a creature of delicate beauty, upstanding character, and refined sentiment. You, sir, are not fit to wipe her shoes.”
The last comments were hardly necessary. The expression on his face must have clearly conveyed his meaning, for Mallory got rather red in the face, began sputtering like a lackwit, and at the first opportunity took off like a shot.
Seven
Trevor waited two days before he called upon her. He deliberately arrived early in the afternoon to avoid the possibility of meeting anyone else. The gossip about their relationship had not abated. New tidbits of outrageous speculation had reached even Trevor’s ears. And there had been a note from his father reminding the marquess to stay away from the girl until the furor died down.
Which, of course, made Trevor realize it was essential that he visit Lady Meredith. The door to her family’s Grosvenor Square home was answered by a meticulously dressed butler possessing a most dour expression.
“Lady Meredith is not at home, my lord,” the servant insisted the moment the marquess gained entrance to the establishment.
Trevor grinned charmingly at the expected response. “Perhaps Lady Meredith will change her mind when she reads my card.” The card he casually slipped into the butler’s reluctant hand was accompanied by a gold sovereign.
The servant’s eyebrow’s raised fractionally as he studied the gold-embossed name. Then the coin disappeared from view. “I’ll see what I can do, my lord.”
The marquess was kept waiting no more than a minute. Trevor looked up expectantly, but to his great consternation saw another gentleman approaching from the second floor.
“Ah, so that’s the way the wind is blowing,” the other man said. He nonchalantly smoothed the lace of his cuffs over the back of his well-manicured hands, then smiled broadly. “Though I’ve naturally heard all the rumors, Lady Meredith failed to mention you were among the current admirers she receives at home. As much as it pains me to lose her, it is far from a disgrace to be beat out by you.”
Trevor stared hard at Julian Wingate. He had a narrow, arrogant face many women considered handsome, though Trevor thought there was an air of superiority about him that detracted from his features. Wingate was a military man, assigned to Wellington’s own staff, yet his civilian dress of breeches, half boots, and a smartly creased coat suggested otherwise.
“I did not know you had returned to town,” Trevor commented.
“I’ve been back a fortnight,” Wingate replied cheerfully. “I resigned my commission last month. ’Tis good to be home.”
Any further conversation between the two men was interrupted by the reappearance of the butler. “This way, my lord.”
“Good luck, Dardington. Unless her ladyship’s mood has improved considerably, I fear you shall need it.”
The marquess watched the other man saunter casually down the hall and make a leisurely exit out the front door. Trevor was now completely unsure what to expect and was heartily relieved to find the drawing room contained only one person, Lady Meredith. Her back was toward him as he entered the room, but she whirled around at the sound of the door opening.
“Good afternoon, Lady Meredith.”
For a moment her eyes looked blankly into his. Then she lifted her hand, rubbed her temple furiously and muttered something beneath her breath. “Apparently my butler has difficulty interpreting my orders. How much did it cost you to gain entrance?” she asked.
“Pardon?”
“My butler, Perkins, is still somewhat distressed over an incident that occurred several days ago. Your presence, along with that of Julian Wingate and Lord Fairchild, indicates Perkins has not yet forgiven me.” She crossed her arms and stared at him with compressed lips. “Though well paid for a man in his position, I cannot imagine he would have the fortitude to forgo this sort of money making opportunity. How much?”
The marquess smiled. She looked stunning, as always. The simple pink-striped, high-waisted day gown highlighted the glow of her alabaster skin and neatly showcased her long-limbed beauty. “A gold sovereign,” he reluctantly admitted.
“Ah, you are either more generous or more desperate than my other callers. They paid only half a guinea.”
“It was worth every last cent,” Trevor said honestly. Though he had seen her only a few days ago, he felt this sudden strange longing to be near her. He was in the process of taking a step forward when he realized his intentions. Fighting the pull, he stiffened his spine and rocked back on his heels.
“Perhaps it would be best if you had a word with Perkins,” Trevor suggested. “I’m sure if you spoke to him sternly enough, he would not dare to cross you.”
“And ruin his windfall?” Meredith laughed lightly. “That would be very cruel. At this rate he should be able to comfortably retire back to the country before the year is out.”
“I would never stand for such insolence from a servant,” Trevor declared firmly, though in truth he knew his own valet could be positively tyrannical at times. “You might even consider sacking him. Or at the very least demoting him.”
She smiled, very slowly. “Perkins is employed by my father and therefore answerable only to him. I have neither the authority nor the inclination to terminate his employment.
“Besides, he has done us a great favor by coming to town. He usually oversees our ancestral estate in Yorkshire, which he has often remarked is a far grander position. Perkins has only recently come to London to assume the duties here when our former butler became gravely ill.”
The marquess was not impressed. “I would be concerned about such disloyalty within my household.”
“You should be pleased at Perkins’s display of insubordination. If he was a more scrupulous servant, you would have never gained entrance to my drawing room.”
