Lady Beresford's Lover by Ella Quinn Page A

the door to his study. There were times that he still thought he could see his grandfather, or the man he’d thought of as his grandfather, from the corner of his eye as he entered the paneled room.
    He separated the invitations into two piles, one for acceptances and the other rejections. A richly engraved card caught his eye. The Marquis of Sudbury was having a masquerade. Rupert didn’t know the man well. Sudbury never married and carefully cultivated his reputation as a rake, but they had more than a passing acquaintance, his lordship being a friend of Rupert’s grandfather Stanstead.
    In England, masked parties still had a rather risqué reputation, but in Venice they had been all the crack. Even if it turned out to be “not quite the thing,” as his mother would say, the party might be fun. Rupert put the invitation on the acceptance pile.
    A few hours later, he strolled into the drawing room of Dunwood House in Grosvenor Square, and stopped. Vivian was here, looking even lovelier than he remembered. His heart-beat grew more rapid. As if she could sense him, she glanced at the door and smiled. His ears rang as if they’d been boxed. He had definitely never had that kind of reaction to any female before.
    “Rupert, come in.” Marcus shook his hand, tugging him into the room. “We have sherry if you’d like some.”
    “Yes, please.” Rupert dragged his eyes from hers. “Sherry would be perfect.”
    After she’d gone back to her conversation with Phoebe, Anna, Lady Rutherford, and Serena, his head began to clear.
    “I think you know everyone present?” Marcus poured the excellent sherry he and Phoebe were famous for keeping. It was rumored that her uncle had laid in a store of it before the war.
    Rupert gratefully accepted the drink. He sipped carefully, resisting the urge to drain the glass and ask for more. He would really worry his friends and cousins if he did that. “Yes. I believe I do.”
    “You know how things are when you take your pot-luck with us. Nothing formal, just mill around until dinner is announced.”
    Rupert did know. Having lived in the West Indies for years, Marcus was never as ceremonial as many of their peers. He snoodled over to Vivian and bowed. “My lady, it is a pleasure to see you again.”
    Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, almost the color of the roses he’d sent. “Thank you, my lord, for the compliment and for the flowers. I’ve never seen such beautiful blooms.”
    “I found them during my travels. That you enjoy them made it worth the trouble.”
    She gave him her hand, and he lightly kissed her fingers. Straightening, he greeted the other ladies and gentlemen, which included his cousin and Serena.
    Robert raised a brow, and Rupert shrugged in answer. As soon as he knew in which direction the wind blew, he would tell his cousin. “What are you discussing?”
    “Anything and everything,” Vivian responded. “We are solving the country’s woes.”
    “Or attempting to,” Serena added. “We ladies have some ideas that Vivian might be interested in.”
    It pleased him that his cousins were now on a Christian-name basis with Vivian. That Serena felt comfortable enough with Vivian to be informal said much of the lady he was interested in.
    Rupert made a point of remaining next to Vivian as they resumed their discussion. “I’m still bothered over the Seditious Meetings Act. It is much too broad.”
    “Will you attempt to bring a bill to modify it?” Rutherford asked.
    “If I thought I could get enough support.” Rupert took a sip of sherry. “At the present, I’m more concerned about the one I am sponsoring concerning our returning soldiers.”
    The air stirred next to him as Vivian shifted. “I agree. Some areas of the country have had too many problems with roving bands of former soldiers who are unable to find work.”
    He wanted to touch her. Put his arm around her waist, or place his hand on the small of her back. With the exception of the two