“No, indeed. You’ll not hear another word of reproach from my lips, I promise you.” She hesitated, her cheeks coloring, then she said in a rush, “Thank you, Lord Fairmont.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Miss Templeton.” He rose, and held out a hand to help her to her feet. “I make no promises where Lord Gilbert is concerned.”
But when she took his hand, her dainty fingers curling around his, and her thumb grazing his palm, he knew he was going to do precisely as she asked.
Chapter
Nine
Viscount Gilbert lived on Lime Street. Lime Street, of all godforsaken places.
Not Albany, Piccadilly, as every fashionable single gentleman of means should do, but Lime Street, and so close to Leadenhall Market, James could hear the squawk of clucking chickens from his place on the doorstep.
If that weren’t bad enough, the Spread Eagle Inn, which was just down the street from Gilbert’s lodgings, at the corner of Lime and Gracechurch Streets was doing a brisk trade this morning, with people bustling about and delivery wagons coming into and out of the courtyard.
The chickens and the rattle of wagon wheels taken together made such an ungodly racket it was all he could do not to stick his fingers in his ears. How could Gilbert stand it? A man couldn’t hear himself think.
Then again, it was Viscount Gilbert. He hadn’t seen much evidence thus far that the man spent a significant amount of his time in deep thought. If he had, he’d have known better than to take apartments in Cornhill, of all places.
A gentleman’s address was yet another measure by which his peers would judge him, and alas, yet another in which poor Viscount Gilbert fell short.
It made no sense. Gilbert didn’t lack the funds for apartments in a more fashionable part of London, so what in the world was he doinghere? Was it possible Miss Templeton had the right of it, and the viscount simply didn’t know the difference between a fashionable address and… here?
One would think the chickens might have given it away.
He knocked briskly on the door, a heavy sigh on his lips. This was all Euphemia Templeton’s fault. If she hadn’t treated him to the waspish edge of her tongue, it never would have occurred to him to seek Gilbert out at all.
Gilbert, of all people!
He’d been asking himself what he was doing since he’d left his lodgings in St. James’s this morning, and he had yet to come up with a satisfactory answer.
One thing, however, was absolutely certain.
His appearance on Gilbert’s doorstep didn’t have anything to do with that set-down Euphemia Templeton had given him yesterday.
Not a single, blessed thing.
He hadn’t spared a thought for Miss Templeton when he’d made his way into the city this morning, nor did he spare her one now as he turned on his heel and made his way back down the steps.
He’d just turn around, return to his lodgings, and forget this nonsense.
But he hadn’t even made it as far as the bottom step before Miss Templeton’s voice was echoing in his head, scolding him for his ungentlemanly behavior toward the viscount, her blue eyes spitting fire, and her scolding tongue wriggling like a serpent between those soft, deceptively innocent-looking lips.
Him, ungentlemanly!
Damned if his ears weren’t still ringing from that set down she’d given him. He could hardly recall what she’d said now— it was all a blur —but a few things did stand out from the hysterical harangue.
She’d gone on about common courtesy, and then there’d been that business about Gilbert being Harriett’s dear friend. She’d even had the gall to imply that James failed to comport himself as a gentleman ought to have done.
Or, well, she hadn’t implied it, so much as she’d said it outright.
Miss Templeton, lecturing the Earl of Fairmont about proper gentlemanly behavior!
He paused on the last step, blowing out a breath. The trouble was, Miss Templeton wasn’t entirely wrong, damn her.
The truth was that he generally did make a point of being kind to Harriett’s friends, and hehadfallen short when it came to Viscount Gilbert, but this whole business was a great deal more complicated than Miss Templeton realized.
It wasn’t that he had anything against Viscount Gilbert. No, not a thing, only?—
