The Vicar's Widow

“Hmm . . . and do you suppose Lady Southbridge heard your mother speak of it?”


He could almost hear the conniving little wheels turning in her head as she tried to sort her way through this mess. Her color was high—a casual observer might think he was whispering decadent things in her ear as they danced. At any other dance, under any other circumstance, he might have done so.

“I suppose she did, my lord,” Miss Forsythe said, and nervously cleared her throat as she twirled around, then back again.

“How odd. I had not mentioned it to your mother.”

Miss Forsythe shrugged and in doing so, missed another step.

“Lady Southbridge surely heard it from someone else. I shall have to inquire, I suppose, for I cannot let our personal affairs be fodder for the ton’s appetite, can I?”

“Of course not,” she said weakly.

A thin sheen of perspiration had appeared on her forehead. Pity, that, what with the worst yet to come. Poor girl. He stepped toward her and asked, “Do you suppose Lady Southbridge heard something untoward about Mrs. Becket from the same source?”

The color rapidly bled from her cheeks. She struggled to look serene, but any confidence she had was melting away. “I ah . . . I suppose it’s possible, my lord,” she said in all but a whisper.

“Interesting,” Darien said, and left it at that for the remainder of the dance. As the quadrille closed, he bowed once more, offered his arm to Miss Forsythe, who seemed almost reluctant to put her hand there. He led her to the edge of the dance floor. “Now don’t go anywhere, will you?”

“No?”

“I shouldn’t want you to miss any of the auction.”

“The auction,” Miss Forsythe echoed dumbly.

“That’s right, the auction. I shall want to see you clearly when the time comes.”

Miss Forsythe nodded, and Darien wondered if this time, her faint might be real.





Chapter Twelve




She had no idea what he planned; neverthless, Kate wished she could crawl beneath the floorboards and disappear. There were only four items left on the auction table, and the crowd was literally buzzing with the anticipation of what was quickly becoming the greatest offer ever made in the history of the ton.

The buzz was quite irrespective of the two main parties, as they had not spoken since dancing the quadrille. Of course Kate had seen them—she couldn’t help but watch. And she’d been appalled by the frenzy of whispering and conjecture as they’d danced. Lady Ramblecourt insisted there would be an August wedding, that she had overheard Lord Montgomery’s sister discuss it with Miss Forsythe. On the other side of the room, however, where Kate had gone to escape Lady Ramblecourt’s talk, she had been the recipient of Lady Cheevers’s speculation.

“He’ll ask for a dower too large for Forsythe, mark me,” she said with a superior sniff. “The Forsythes would do well to keep their enthusiasm under their own roof, if you take my meaning.”

“Yes, my lady,” Kate said miserably, at which point Lady Cheevers had turned a judgmental eye to her.

“You might have done as well for yourself, dear, had you been more circumspect.”

Kate certainly didn’t argue that.

At the moment, however, Lady Southbridge was announcing the last of the items to be auctioned—a pair of silver candelabras that had been the gift of Prinny to Lord Daniels. As the bidding started—it was a coveted item—Kate used the opportunity to drift farther back, away from the crowd.

But as Montgomery made his way to stand next to the platform, he let his gaze idly roam the crowd, and it eventually landed on her, standing in the shadows. A small smile tipped one corner of his mouth; a brow cocked high above the other, and she wondered why he must taunt her at this wretched moment.

She wished she’d never met him. Honestly, she did.

“Oooh,” Lady Southbridge trilled when the candelabras had been auctioned off for two hundred pounds. “I do believe that brings us to the last item to be auctioned for charity. Stevens, what is the final tally, if you please?”

“One thousand forty-two pounds, my lady,” her secretary called out. “A new record!” A round of applause went up from the crowd.

“I’ll add a thousand pounds to the total,” Montgomery called out to the delight of the crowd, and Kate rolled her eyes at the very same moment she felt her stomach roil with her bloody nerves.

“Oooh, do come up, my lord Montgomery!” Lady Southbridge cried happily, and endeavored to move her girth aside to allow him room. “Two thousand pounds indeed! That’s quite generous, my lord!”

“Ah, that would be a thousand,” he kindly corrected her as he gracefully hopped onto the platform beside her.