“I don’t understand how this happened.” Johnathan trailed after Cross as they made their way back toward Johnathan’s carriage on Jermyn Street. “I’m still not certain I understand what did happen.”
He’d ruined a lady whose face he’d never seen, his name was on the lips of every gossip in London, and Lady Christine was in such a rage she’d thrown a silver hairbrush across her bedchamber and hit her lady’s maid in the forehead.
At least, according to The Morning Post, she had.
“It’s nothing so puzzling. You’re not the first gentleman to be caught in an indiscretion, but you’re Melrose. You never do anything shocking, least of all a scandalous debauchery.” Cross cocked his head, considering it. “At a ball, in a library.”
“Yes, thank you for the clarification, Cross. Do you know I can count on one hand the number of indiscretions I’ve had since I turned of age?” Johnathan held up his hand, fingers splayed to illustrate his point. “But the instant I venture a single toe out of line, the entire Upper Ten Thousand is upon me like dozens of buzzards picking apart a carcass.”
“Unfortunately, this is just the sort of scandal the ton delights in. It does seem rather unfair, though. I daresay it will reach equilibrium eventually, however. I’ve found things usually do.”
Johnathan gave him a sour look. “That’s philosophical of you, Cross, and like most philosophical observations, utterly useless.”
“I only mean to observe that the ton has been waiting with bated breath for you to dip a toe into the marriage mart. Now you’ve ruined their hopes, it’s not so surprising you find yourself at the mercy of…what did you call them?”
“Buzzards.”
“Yes, that’s very good, though I’d liken them to a swarm of piranhas myself. Have you ever seen piranhas strip the flesh off their prey? It’s fascinating. Not that it matters,” Cross added hastily, at Johnathan’s darkening scowl. “Where to now, Melrose? Shall we go to White’s?”
“And listen to the likes of Lord Quigley snickering behind my back? God, no. I may never set foot inside that wretched place again.”
They turned the corner, and Johnathan, who had been winding his way toward Jermyn Street, glimpsed the door of the shop he intended to visit as soon as he was rid of Cross. Dozens of jars and glass bottles were artfully arranged in the window, and above it, on a royal blue background in gold script was a single word.
Floris.
Johnathan was about to suggest Cross go on to White’s without him when suddenly his friend asked, “What did you make of the Templeton sisters, Melrose?”
Johnathan glanced at him in surprise. Cross rarely showed any curiosity about anyone. “Clever, both of them. Lovely, too. If it weren’t for the scandal, Juliet Templeton would be this season’s belle.”
Cross grunted. “She’s much too pert for my liking.”
“Oh, you seemed to like her well enough. It looked to me as if you admired her, however reluctantly, which is rare enough.”
Cross raised an eyebrow. “On the contrary, Melrose. I admire a great many ladies, until they open their mouths.”
“But Juliet Templeton has such a pretty mouth. Or are we pretending you didn’t notice?”
It hadn’t been Juliet Templeton who’d caught Johnathan’s attention, however.
That smudge of dirt on Emmeline Templeton’s nose…
There was more to that young lady than met the—
“What in the world…look, Melrose. Isn’t that Miss Emmeline Templeton?”
Johnathan followed Cross’s gaze, and his mouth dropped open. There, just emerging from a carriage was indeed a lady who looked very much like Emmeline Templeton. He watched as she closed the carriage door behind her, hurried down the street, and disappeared inside Floris.
Alone. “What the devil is she doing? Where is Lady Fosberry?”
Cross was frowning. “You don’t suppose she’d allow Miss Templeton to go out alone?”
“No, Lady Fosberry knows better than that.”
“Perhaps Miss Templeton is lost.”
It hadn’t looked like it. In fact, she’d seemed to know exactly what she was doing. Still, something was amiss. Johnathan couldn’t imagine how she’d managed to escape Lady Fosberry’s watchful eye, but it wouldn’t do for Emmeline Templeton to wander about the streets alone. “You go ahead to White’s, Cross, and check the betting book while you’re there, will you? I’ll see to Miss Templeton.”
“Yes, all right. Come to my townhouse when you’ve finished.” Cross doffed his new beaver hat, and went back toward St. James’s Street.
