The Dangerous Lord Darrington(26)

'Do not be alarmed, Mrs Forrester,' remarked the earl, as she gripped  tightly to the side, 'I have never yet turned over a carriage.'

'There is a first time for everything, my lord,' she replied tensely. 'Pray do not let me distract you. Look to your horses!'

He merely laughed at that and concentrated on guiding his team through  the busy London thoroughfares. The sun was shining and Beth looked about  her in wonder. Everywhere was crowded with carriages and pedestrians;  building work seemed to be taking place on almost every street. She  marvelled at the way the earl negotiated the crowded thoroughfares.  First he took her to Somerset House, pointing out to her the  headquarters of the learned societies, before turning on to the bustling  wharf of the Adelphi so that she could enjoy the view of its impressive  vaults that supported the fashionable terraces above.

'I have never seen anything like it,' she marvelled, gazing about her  in awe. 'However, I do not think I should like to live quite so close to  the river.'

'No. In summer it can become quite noisome.' He glanced down at her. 'Would you like to see Carlton House?'

He drove her past the Prince of Wales's palace and whisked her up St  James's Street, where several gentlemen stopped to stare at them.                       
       
           



       

'Oh, dear.' Beth shifted uneasily. 'Perhaps I should not have driven out with you. Those men … '

The earl raised his whip to salute them.

'Acquaintances,' he said briefly. 'Surprised to see me in town. No need  to fret over them, Mrs Forrester. There is no impropriety in your being  seen with me at this time in the morning.'

'Oh, no,' she said quickly. 'And I am enjoying it so much, thank you.'

'If you have had enough of the crowds and bustle,' he said, turning on to Piccadilly, 'let us drive to Hyde Park.'

She said doubtfully, 'Is that not very fashionable?'

'The fashionable hour is five in the afternoon, ma'am. We should not meet too many people there this morning.'

He drove on, skilfully negotiating the gates and soon the noise was left behind as they drove deeper into the park.

'This is much more peaceful,' admitted Beth, relaxing. 'I had forgotten how crowded cities could be.'

'You were not planning to go into society when you came to town?'

'Not really. I thought only of finding the de Beaunes.'

'Do you have no evening gowns with you?'

'I have brought my lilac silk,' she replied, surprised by his question.

'Good. You will need it this evening when I take you to Lady Shott's soirée.'

Immediately she was on her guard. 'Really, Lord Darrington, I do not think-'

'Sir Henry Shott was the French Ambassador at one time,' he interrupted  her protests. 'He still has strong connections with the country and  holds a virtual open house for every émigré that comes to London. I am  hoping we might be able to learn something there about the de Beaunes.'

'Oh. I see.'

'I hope you do.'

She bit her lip. 'I beg your pardon. I thought … '

'I know exactly what you thought. I wish you would rid yourself of the idea that I have any designs upon your virtue!'



Guy tried to convince himself that it was true, but acknowledged that  she was wise not to trust him. He kept thinking of her in his room at  the Priory, lying on the bed in a gossamer-thin nightgown that only  enhanced her charms and with her hair spread out over the covers like a  red-gold sunset. Since that night he had done his best to disguise his  desire, but it was difficult, and doubly so when she joined him in the  drawing room that evening, ready to go out.

He had seen her wearing the gown before, but this time she had left off  the white kerchief to display the low lace-edged neckline of the  bodice. Her only ornament was a single string of fine pearls and one  glossy curl hung down over her shoulder, teasingly drawing attention to  the soft swell of her breasts. He longed to reach out and cup them in  his hands, to cover them in kisses.

Beth recognised the leap of desire in his eyes and quickly looked away,  one hand nervously fluttering towards her neck. 'I am a little out of  touch with fashion, my lord. I hope this is not too plain … '

He caught her hands and raised one then the other to his lips. He said softly, 'You look beautiful.'

Beth swallowed. She was hopelessly out of her depth with this man. Bit  by bit he was stealing her heart. No time to worry about that, she told  herself as he threw her cloak about her shoulders. He would help her to  find the de Beaunes and that was all that mattered for now.



They arrived at Sir Henry Shott's narrow town house and were shown into  the crowded reception rooms, where Lady Shott greeted the earl with  unfeigned delight.

'Darrington, my dear sir, I had no idea you were in town!' She held out her hands to the earl and he obligingly kissed them.

'I hope you will forgive our uninvited appearance, madam.' Beth  observed her hostess almost purr under the charm of his smile. The earl  drew her forwards. 'Allow me to present Mrs Forrester, of Malpass Priory  near Fentonby. She is newly arrived in town.'

Beth did not miss the speculative look in the lady's eyes.

'Indeed? One of the Wakeford gels, are you? I remember Lady Arabella  very well-she was the terror of the ballrooms when I first came to town.  Do you make a long stay, ma'am?'

'I hardly know yet, Lady Shott.'

'Mrs Forrester is in town to meet up with an old acquaintance,' said  the earl easily. 'A French couple-in fact, you may know them. Name of de  Beaune.'

Lady Shott's finely pencilled brows drew together.

'I do not recall the name, but that is not to say they are not here-we  have any number of émigrés with us, as always! Henry may be able to help  you further. He is over there somewhere … ' She waved an airy hand in the  general direction of the crowded room before dashing off to meet more  new arrivals.                       
       
           



       

The earl guided Beth across the room, nodding here and there but never stopping to speak to anyone.

'We are attracting a great deal of attention,' she murmured, trying to  ignore the stares of an elderly gentleman in a powdered bagwig.

'Why should you be surprised?' the earl responded. 'You are a beautiful woman.'

'I think it is more the fact that I am with you,' she retorted, pinning on a smile as the elderly gentleman approached.

The old man ignored her and fixed his angry eyes upon the earl.

'So, you're back are you, Darrington? Surprised you have the gall to show your face!'

'Indeed, Kilton? Now why should that be?'

The earl's voice was silky smooth, but Beth's hand was on his arm and she noted how his muscles tensed beneath the sleeve.

'You know very well, sir,' blustered Kilton. 'It may have been a decade ago, but-'

'Not everyone's memory is as long as yours, Kilton.'

The underlying menace in the earl's careless drawl made the old gentleman draw back, eyes snapping.

'Damn your eyes, sir,' he hissed. 'You are a disgrace to your name and your politics!'

Beth's grip on the earl's arm tightened. Was this the treason that Miles had disclosed to her?

'My lord-'

'Come, ma'am, we must not allow ourselves to be distracted.' His faint,  distant smile told her he would not discuss the matter, but as they  made their way across the room she was even more aware of the stares  that accompanied them. Some were merely curious, others blatantly  unfriendly. However, there was no mistaking the welcome they received  from a rotund gentleman with bushy side-whiskers. His jolly face broke  into a beaming smile as soon as he spotted the earl.

'Darrington, my boy!'

The earl introduced him to Beth as their host, Sir Henry Shott. She was  encouraged by his obvious delight in seeing them and lost no time in  asking him if he knew of a Monsieur de Beaune, recently arrived from  France.

'Beaune … hmm. Names rings a bell with me. Yes, I remember now. There was  a Madame de Beaune came to see me a few days ago. Recently arrived from  France and in need of money. I helped her sell some of her jewelry.'

'And do you know where she is living?' asked Beth.

Sir Henry shook his head. 'She would not tell me, preferred to keep it a  secret. Don't be too disheartened,' he added, observing her  disappointment. 'Many of these émigrés arrive here in desperate straits  and anxious for their safety. Once they realise we mean them no harm  they soon settle down.'

'Perhaps some of your other guests might know of the de Beaunes' whereabouts,' suggested Guy.

'It's possible. Old Leclerc, for example.' Sir Henry nodded towards a  courtly looking gentleman in an embroidered coat and heavily powdered  wig. 'He's been here for years now and makes it his business to take all  the new émigrés under his wing. Go and renew your acquaintance with  him, Guy, he should remember you, although he's a bit deaf so you might  want to take him to one side.' He held out his arm to Beth and said with  a twinkling smile, 'You can leave Mrs Forrester safely with me!'