“You mean he chaperoned you?”
“Er… in a manner of speaking, yes,” Aubrey asked, setting down his teacup and hoping they could get off the subject of her brother quickly. “But the thing is, Vinnie. I love her. Alice is so remarkable and has overcome so much hardship and yet she’s never daunted, not by anything. She’s the bravest person I’ve ever met, and clever and beautiful and—”
Vinnie laughed, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. “Oh, poor Aubrey. You are in a bad way.”
He returned a rueful smile. “I am.”
Her green eyes, so like his own, warmed as she gazed at him.
“You really love her?”
“I really do.”
“Then I shall too,” she said firmly.
Aubrey got up and pulled her to her feet, enveloping her in the kind of brotherly bear hug he’d not shared with her in years. “Thanks, Vinnie. I needed to hear that. Hawk’s in the most frightful stew about it because she’s not of our class and… and her brother is a bit of a scoundrel.”
Vinnie scoffed at this reaction. “Oh, he’s so stuffy. I don’t give a fig for that sort of thing, and Miss Marwick has always had impeccable manners whenever I have seen her. If anything, she is rather reserved, so I don’t see how Hawkney can complain, though he will.”
Aubrey nodded, Hawkney’s disapproval still ringing in his ears. “At least I don’t have to face him for a while. I left him brooding in town,” he admitted with a wry smile, his amusement fading as Vinnie bit her lip. “Oh, no.”
“Howard said he arrived an hour or so after you did.”
Aubrey groaned and sat down again. “Devil take him. Why couldn’t he just stay put?”
“He wasn’t alone,” she added, almost apologetically.
Aubrey stared at her and then cursed. “Oh, bloody hell. Not Sherry?”
“Who else?” Vinnie shrugged, though laughter danced in her eyes.
She liked Lord Sheringham, of course. Most women did. He was a handsome devil with black hair and cold grey eyes and a lean athletic build that made the ladies sigh. The younger son of the Duke of Devlin, he had inherited the courtesy title of earl when his older brother died. He was sophisticated, clever, and had a tongue like a viper when roused, which was seldom. He was also the most indolent devil Aubrey had ever met, and hisfriendship with stodgy Hawkney was something no one could understand. Not even Hawkney, if Aubrey had to guess.
“Why on earth did he come back so soon, never mind with Sherry in tow?” he demanded, knowing what havoc the devil could wreak upon the household.
Vinnie cut him a slice of plum cake, laying it on a delicately painted porcelain plate. She offered it to him, her smile sympathetic. “Perhaps he wanted to apologise for all the rotten things he said about Miss Marwick?”
Aubrey’s reply to this improbable suggestion was a snort of derision.
Hatherley Hall, Little Valentine, 21stJanuary 1816
Justin Caldecott, the Earl of Sheringham, affectionately known as Sherry to his intimates, stretched out his long legs before the fire in the Duke of Hawkney’s study and surveyed his friend with a keen eye. Most people could not understand how two men who were so vastly different could keep up a friendship begun only to survive the horrors of school, but they had, and Sherry cared little for what anybody thought about anything, least of all what they thought of him.
He had called in on the duke upon a whim last night, whilst on his way back from his club. Hawkney had been about to step into his carriage and refused to linger, so Sherry, being a little the worse for drink, had come for the ride. A mistake, possibly. Certainly the pounding in his temples seemed to suggest so, but Hawk looked troubled, and God knew he wouldn’t confide inanyone else. Likely he’d not confide in Sherry either, but it was worth a try. He owed the stuff devil that much.
“You look like you’ve swallowed a bad oyster.”
Hawk looked up from the letter he was glowering at to regard his friend. Sherry suspected Hawkney had forgotten he was there at all. Well, that would never do.
“My digestion is perfectly fine, I thank you,” his grace replied, and returned his attention to the letter.
“A billet doux?” Sherry enquired sweetly, earning himself a withering look from Hawkney.
“Certainly not.”
Sheringham hid a smile. “That is a relief. One hopes you do not scowl so prodigiously at your light o’love. I’m certain the fair Caroline would not quiver under such an expression, for she is made of sterner stuff, but one worries, you know, Hawk. One worries.”
“I wish you would not,” was the duke’s terse reply, though he did not take his eyes from the letter.
