“That’s the only reason Polite Society still tolerates him. Remember that Branford also as good as murdered his young cousin during the war in order to get the title, the lands and wealth that he now holds.” Hammerton’s grip tightened on his glass. “The earl is nothing but a scoundrel.”
Standish looked quickly around again. “Careful,” he hissed. “I’d caution you not to forget the two duels he fought over a slur to his honor.”
“Have no fear. I won’t be foolish enough to give him any reason to call me out.” A nasty gleam lit in Hammerton’s eyes. “My besting of him will be far more subtle. And far more satisfying.”
“Why do you care about the Miss Chilton being ruined? I thought …”
Hammerton’s lips were still curled in a semblance of a smile. “Because it suits my plan, dear cousin,” he interjected. “Just leave the thinking to me.”
Three
“Ye gods, Sebastian. I never expected to seeyouat a gathering like this one.”
Lord Henry Ashton made his way to the corner of the ballroom where Branford stood all alone, dressed entirely in black, save for the snowy white of his starched shirt and elegantly tied cravat.
“Cecilia is an old friend of Lady Worthington, otherwise wild horses couldn’t have dragged me to such a frivolous crush,” continued Ashton, raising an eyebrow in question and then beckoning a passing footman to bring them both a glass of champagne. “I can’t imagine why you would bother.”
Branford gave his longtime friend a brief smile, then continued to survey the crowd. “I have my reasons, Henry.”
“Ye gods, you sound as if you’ve stepped out from some horrid Radcliffe novel.” Ashton added a snort. “And don’t give me that basilisk stare for saying so. It may make your other acquaintances quake in their boots, but it has no such effect on me.”
Branford chuckled, appreciating Ashton’s frank humor. “I thank you for the set-down, my friend, else I’d be in danger of becoming puffed up with the sense of my own consequence.”
Ashton grinned. “Nonsense.” He paused, his expression becoming more serious. “Though I’ve never understood why you allow people to think you are the Devil Incarnate…”
The earl drew in a measured breath. “Henry …” he said softly, though the note of warning was clear.
Ashton ignored it. “Damnation, Sebastian! I’ve become concerned about you of late. You’re drinking far more than is good for you, not to speak of having affairs with half the wives of theton.” He shook his head in puzzlement. “Even more disturbing, you’re neglecting Riverton. And I know how much you care for?—”
“You are a good friend,” interrupted Branford, his fingers tightening on the stem of his champagne glass. “But even friends may go too far.”
Ashton let out a sigh. “Very well, I’ll hold my tongue,” he muttered. “For now.”
Branford swept the room with his gaze once more. “Do you know a Miss Chilton?” he asked abruptly.
Ashton looked puzzled. “Why, yes. Her aunt is a close friend of my mother. But why do you ask?”
“Introduce me.”
“Whatever for? She’s not at all your type.”
The earl was curious as to what his friend was implying. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“She’s not a beautiful young widow or a stunning countess bored with her elderly husband,” answered Ashton frankly. “In fact, Alex—she prefers to be called Alex—is rather plain, and a bluestocking to boot. And given that’s she well past the age of twenty, she’s already considered on the shelf.”
He tugged at his cuff before adding, “Lady Beckworth is her guardian. According to my mother, the family has come to Town from the country in order to give her younger brother some polish.” A shrug. “They haven’t got much blunt, though. So it’snot likely that either of them will be able to make much of a match.”
Branford felt a pinch of surprise as he mulled over the information but then reminded himself that appearances could be deceiving when it came to the ladies of the ton. “Nonetheless, introduce me.”
His friend’s brow furrowed. “As you say, you must have your reasons. I consider Lady Beckworth a family friend … but I know you well enough to be sure that you wouldn’t dream of toying with an innocent.”
The earl didn’t deign to respond.
“Very well, come with me.” Ashton worked his way through the crowd to where a cluster of matrons sat gossiping among themselves while keeping an eagle eye on who was dancing with whom. There was a much younger lady at the edge of the group, her expression indicating that her thoughts were anywhere but the ballroom.
“Miss Chilton.” Lord Ashton bowed politely as the young lady shifted in surprise, her gaze betraying a brief flash of annoyance.
“Good evening … Lord Ashton.” Her tone was hardly welcoming.
