But Lady Flora seemed to realize she’d said too much, and changed the subject. “Well, Lord Lymington is back now, in any case. He resigned his commission upon his uncle’s death, but he was meant to be quite good at it. Captaining, I mean. He’s very brave, byall accounts.”
A captain, was he? Well, no wonder he was so curt, so presumptuous. Such a man would be accustomed to giving orders, and having them obeyed. No wonder he’d taken an immediate dislike to her. She’d never been good at following orders.
“What of Lord Lovell, Lady Flora? You must know him well, if you were childhood friends. Is he as charming aseveryone says?”
“He’s, ah…he’s a charming gentleman, yes. Rather like a brother to me, you know.” Lady Flora dropped her gaze. “My grandmother is fond of Lord Lovell, and won’t hear a single word against him.”
Lady Silvester must be partial to Lovell, indeed. Even leaving aside the thorny questions of kidnapping and murder, there was plenty to say about Lord Lovell that was less than flattering. His family had gone to a great deal of trouble to bury his scandals, but you couldn’t hide everything.
From some people, you couldn’thideanything.
People like Lady Clifford,for instance.
England was full of sinners, and Lady Clifford knew all their ugliest, filthiest sins. Adultery, bastard children, ruined daughters, clandestine lovers and their secret sexual proclivities…
Seductions, ruinations, kidnappings, murder…
“I’m certain Lord Lovell is every bit as charming as you say.” Emma rose to her feet. “He must have got the lion’s share of charm in his family, because there doesn’t seem to have been any left over for Lord Lymington.”
Lady Flora slapped a hand over her mouth, but not before a giggle escaped. “Oh, dear. Poor Lord Lymington. That’s quite wicked of you to say, Lady Emma.”
Wicked, yes, and only the merest ripple on the surface of the deep, dark pool of Emma’s wickedness. If Lady Flora knew how awful she really was, she’d fall into a swoon.
But until then…
Emma held out her hand to Lady Flora. “Shall we go into supper? I fancy a plate of dry cake, and a glass ofsour lemonade.”
Chapter Four
“How long do you intend to keep us wandering about this dreary old place, Lymington? I’ve never known you to give a bloody damn about Sir Joshua Reynoldsbefore today.”
“My goodness, Lancelot.” Lady Lymington turned on her nephew, her eyes wide with reproach. “I can’t think what poor Sir Joshua’s ever done to make you curse so wickedly. Do guard your tongue, won’t you?”
“I beg your pardon, Aunt Sophronia.” Lovell cast a guilty look at his aunt, then pressed his lips together, as if the only reason he’d spoken at all was to curse, and he might as well remain silent now.
And he did remain so—for precisely four minutes, when he let out a heavy sigh. “You may stand there gaping up at that monstrosity for as long as you like, Lymington, but you’ll never convince meyou admire it.”
“Certainly, I admire it.” Samuel clasped his hands behind his back and adopted an appreciative pose. “The, ah…richness of the colors, and the, ah…the subjects. Very vigorous, indeed.”
“Vigorous!” Lovell snorted. “Do you call the Ladies Waldegrave vigorous?”
“The Ladies Waldegrave?” Samuel focused on the portrait he’d been pretending to admire and stifled a groan. Damn it, when had they moved on from Sir Tarleton? There was nothing vigorous about three ladies gathered around a table doing…whatwerethey doing? Tatting lace? Spinning skeins of silk? “Did I say vigorous? I meant domestic. Er, an impressive representation of domestic bliss.”
Behind him, Lovell snickered. “Do try and keep up,eh, Lymington?”
Samuel smothered a sigh. In truth, he couldn’t work up any more enthusiasm for Reynolds’s portraits than Lovell could. He’d suggested they visit the Royal Academy because Lady Flora had mentioned she intended to attend theexhibit today.
Notbecause Lady Emma had mentioned she mightvisit, as well.
He’d dragged Lovell through nearly every room in the place this afternoon, hoping for a chance meeting with Lady Flora, but when they’d come across her at last, she and her grandmother hadn’t been alone. Lord Barrett and his sister had been with them, his lordship with Lady Flora on his arm, casting openly admiring glances at her.
Lovell had stared at them in confusion for a moment, then his face had gone darker than a thundercloud. Since then, he’d been muttering to himself about upstart lords, and capricious young ladies who’d do well to be more particular abouttheir escorts.
Samuel might have been cheered at this sign of Lovell’s attachment to Lady Flora if Barrett had been a less desirable suitor, but he was a pleasant, handsome young gentleman, just the sort any young lady would be thrilled to have courting her.
“Would you call this one vigorous as well?” Lovell paused in front of Reynolds’s sedate portrait of the Countess of Warwick. “Perhaps her hat might be referred to as vigorous. What do you think, Lymington?”
Samuel gave his cousin a dark look, but he bit back the ill-humored retort on his tongue. Lovell was still annoyed with him over the scene at Almack’s with Lady Emma last night, and Samuel, knowing he deserved some of Lovell’s ire, wasn’t inclined to defend his behavior.
