could do nothing about it.”
“Miss Hetty, hold a moment, there is something here that simply doesn’t let the key fit the lock.” Millie frowned and rubbed her fingertips against her thin ribs.
“You’re thinking that Lord Oberlon’s actions weren’t those of a libertine, a man who used women and didn’t care what happened to them once he was through?”
“Yes, it sounds like to me that his grace loved the girl. My ma told me that when men are smitten they will do any number of outrageous things to get what they want.”
Hetty said, her voice as harsh as the winter wind, “I don’t care about Lord Oberlon’s motives, Millie. The fact remains that it was he who is responsible for Damien’s death. No one else, just Lord Oberlon. And by God, he deserves all that I have planned for him.”
Several hours later, Millie quietly entered Hetty’s bedchamber to ensure that she had indeed locked away the fine pearl necklace her mistress had worn this evening, the only item she’d worn that was worth saving. She stood silently at her mistress’s bedside, the slender candle flame darting shafts of orange light, and gazed down upon Hetty’s face. Millie felt a sudden wrenching of fear. Deep in sleep, with her tousled blond curls softly framing her small face, Miss Hetty looked like an innocent, vulnerable young girl, which of course she was. Ah, but she had the heart of a lion. Millie turned, the candle trembling in her hand. What chance could Miss Hetty have against such a powerful, ruthless man as Lord Oberlon?
Chapter Ten
Lord Harry and Sir Harry Brandon stood outside the Earl of March’s elegant three-story town house on the northern corner of Grosvenor Square. A strong February wind whipped their greatcoats about their ankles and tugged at the top hats set rakishly over their pomaded hair.
“I tell you, Lord Harry, if my brother-in-law backs you, you’ll be a member of White’s by this very evening. You can’t go on missing out on all the good sport. Just be yourself and Julien will like you well enough. I already dashed him a note, telling him all about your pedigree.”
“If you’re certain, Harry. I have no wish to bother him.”
“Julien doesn’t bite, but he does make me very nervous sometimes. It’s just the way he is. He looks down his nose at you and you turn red, but he isn’t bad. He and my sister, Kate, have just returned from St. Clair. Since he hasn’t seen me for a good while, I expect he’ll be pleased enough to see me. Time away from me does make him more tolerant I’ve found. Come along, my boy.”
Sir Harry grasped Lord Harry’s arm and pulled him up the front steps. Hetty wasn’t certain why she felt so uneasy about making the acquaintance of the powerful earl of March. But the die was cast. She really couldn’t afford to draw back now. It was imperative that she become a member of White’s, a regular habitus of that famous club, the club where Jason Cavander, Lord Oberlon, spent a good deal of his time.
But an instant after Harry rapped the large brass knocker, the door was opened by one of the most distinguished-looking men Hetty had ever seen.
“Good morning, George,” Sir Harry said, grinning at the butler. “It’s me. It’s been a long time, you know. His lordship should be delighted to see me. What do you think, George?”
“Certainly your sister will be delighted, sir.” George stepped quickly aside for them to enter. “As for his lordship, I just heard him laughing. He should welcome you pleasantly enough. Ah, you’ve brought a friend. Do come in, both of you.”
“My sister well, George?”
“Quite fit, Sir Harry, quite fit.” George shifted his kind gaze to Lord Harry and lifted an elegant gray brow inquiringly.
Sir Harry said with a wide grin, “This gentleman is another Harry, George Lord Harry Monteith. He’s from up north where there’s nothing but cows and moors and byres. No society whatever, poor chap, but
“Miss Hetty, hold a moment, there is something here that simply doesn’t let the key fit the lock.” Millie frowned and rubbed her fingertips against her thin ribs.
“You’re thinking that Lord Oberlon’s actions weren’t those of a libertine, a man who used women and didn’t care what happened to them once he was through?”
“Yes, it sounds like to me that his grace loved the girl. My ma told me that when men are smitten they will do any number of outrageous things to get what they want.”
Hetty said, her voice as harsh as the winter wind, “I don’t care about Lord Oberlon’s motives, Millie. The fact remains that it was he who is responsible for Damien’s death. No one else, just Lord Oberlon. And by God, he deserves all that I have planned for him.”
Several hours later, Millie quietly entered Hetty’s bedchamber to ensure that she had indeed locked away the fine pearl necklace her mistress had worn this evening, the only item she’d worn that was worth saving. She stood silently at her mistress’s bedside, the slender candle flame darting shafts of orange light, and gazed down upon Hetty’s face. Millie felt a sudden wrenching of fear. Deep in sleep, with her tousled blond curls softly framing her small face, Miss Hetty looked like an innocent, vulnerable young girl, which of course she was. Ah, but she had the heart of a lion. Millie turned, the candle trembling in her hand. What chance could Miss Hetty have against such a powerful, ruthless man as Lord Oberlon?
Chapter Ten
Lord Harry and Sir Harry Brandon stood outside the Earl of March’s elegant three-story town house on the northern corner of Grosvenor Square. A strong February wind whipped their greatcoats about their ankles and tugged at the top hats set rakishly over their pomaded hair.
“I tell you, Lord Harry, if my brother-in-law backs you, you’ll be a member of White’s by this very evening. You can’t go on missing out on all the good sport. Just be yourself and Julien will like you well enough. I already dashed him a note, telling him all about your pedigree.”
“If you’re certain, Harry. I have no wish to bother him.”
“Julien doesn’t bite, but he does make me very nervous sometimes. It’s just the way he is. He looks down his nose at you and you turn red, but he isn’t bad. He and my sister, Kate, have just returned from St. Clair. Since he hasn’t seen me for a good while, I expect he’ll be pleased enough to see me. Time away from me does make him more tolerant I’ve found. Come along, my boy.”
Sir Harry grasped Lord Harry’s arm and pulled him up the front steps. Hetty wasn’t certain why she felt so uneasy about making the acquaintance of the powerful earl of March. But the die was cast. She really couldn’t afford to draw back now. It was imperative that she become a member of White’s, a regular habitus of that famous club, the club where Jason Cavander, Lord Oberlon, spent a good deal of his time.
But an instant after Harry rapped the large brass knocker, the door was opened by one of the most distinguished-looking men Hetty had ever seen.
“Good morning, George,” Sir Harry said, grinning at the butler. “It’s me. It’s been a long time, you know. His lordship should be delighted to see me. What do you think, George?”
“Certainly your sister will be delighted, sir.” George stepped quickly aside for them to enter. “As for his lordship, I just heard him laughing. He should welcome you pleasantly enough. Ah, you’ve brought a friend. Do come in, both of you.”
“My sister well, George?”
“Quite fit, Sir Harry, quite fit.” George shifted his kind gaze to Lord Harry and lifted an elegant gray brow inquiringly.
Sir Harry said with a wide grin, “This gentleman is another Harry, George Lord Harry Monteith. He’s from up north where there’s nothing but cows and moors and byres. No society whatever, poor chap, but
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