Sebastian smiled. “You do know I teach my wife how to fight. My factories are in rough areas of London, and she insists on visiting me at times. With the conditions as they are, many justifiably angry workers and the union-encouraged strikes which lead to rioting, I have taught her to fight. I daresay with the right incentive my Fanny can lay you flat on your rear, Maschelly.”
This was said with a good deal of pride and admiration for his viscountess. But James already knew his friend’s lady had the courage of a lion. Only last year she had jilted a powerful lord and left the dishonorable bounder at the altar. She had done that, knowing the scandal that would forever be attached to her name. That showed a strength of character that was rare, and more than once James had thought how lucky his friend was in his choice of partner.
Sebastian continued, “And the sport is an excellent exercise for young ladies, the general thought is that it keeps them fit and healthy. And I know many take lessons at their home.”
“I assure you it is not those gentle lessons she seeks.” He thought of his veiled lady. “For her, it would not be a form of exercise.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. Someone hurt her, and she needs this to feel safe again. I suspect everyone who should have protected the lady disappointed her, and she now feels she can rely on no one but her own ingenuity and strength.”
“It sounds as if you admire the lady,” Sebastian observed.
“I do in some fashion, but I refused her.”
“But you’ve since changed your mind?” Sebastian asked archly, and with some amusement. “And here I thought the wickedest earl in London was trying to be proper…a gentleman. How odd you would willingly help a lady to ruin, casting yourself in more negativity for the vultures.”
James grunted. “Do you have any notion of who she could be? A young lady who has been away for the last four seasons, and only recently returned to town? I cannot fathom there could be several such ladies.”
“I will ask my dear Fanny. You know I am not up to date on the latest on dits. My wife though seems to be too aware of most of the ton’s business. And I am delightfully obliged to listen when she imparts all the news.”
And that would have to do. “Please tell your viscountess I would appreciate any insight she could offer.”
“Did you receive an invitation to Lady Springfield’s ball?”
James usually ignored most of the invitations sent to his home, especially the frivolous variety. This had been the first season he had tried to dip his toes into the tricky waters of the ton to net himself a lady of quality. Foolish of him to believe a young lady would appreciate his checkered past. His title and wealth seemed to have little meaning to the one lady who had caught his fancy. He was not quite refined enough for her sensibilities. Now he couldn’t stop thinking that many, if not all, ladies would have a similar opinion. A gentleman. What had Lady Susanna accused him of tearily when she'd rejected his suit? Ah yes, …he had never asked her to dance, nor had he written her poems, or personally delivered flowers. James scowled recalling her hysterical nonsense. “How is Lady Springfield’s ball relevant?”
“The Countess likes scandal and anything society deems as too wicked, so I am sure she sent you one.”
/> “I am assuming you have a point.”
“According to my lovely wife, everyone who’s anyone will be at Lady Springfield’s ball tonight. Perhaps your mysterious lady will be present.”
James felt bewildered at the waves of anticipation that buffeted him. “Then I shall endeavor to be there.”
They resumed their friendly sparring, and almost an hour later, James departed and made his way home. He headed straight to his chamber, the weight of the evening before—the sleepless night, and his sparring settling on his shoulder like a boulder. He removed all his clothing and unmentionables until he was naked, then he dropped himself onto his bed with a deep groan of relief. Sleep beckoned, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of profound anticipation at attending a ball.
Chapter 4
“You retired early from Lady Balfour’s ball last evening,” Albert, Earl of Sutcliffe, and Verity’s brother said in a very disagreeable tone. “Lord Aldridge was considerably disappointed he’d not been able to dance the supper waltz with you.”
“I had a headache and had to leave. Surely mamma informed you?” Verity said, spreading strawberry preserves atop her bread.
Their mother took a delicate sip of her tea, before speaking. “I did inform your brother, he is determined to be contrary. And, my dear, you missed an excessively diverting evening.”
“You left within half an hour of arriving,” Albert said. “What did you do upon arriving home?”
For a wild moment, she wondered if he knew of her clandestine activities. Surely not? For then there would have been threats of banishment to the country, or God forbid, to a mental house. “I find it quite odd you need the details of my evening, Albert. But if you must know, after having a few relaxing cups of tea, I had a very agreeable evening reading,” she said with a polite smile.
Her brother nodded as if he approved heartily as to how she spent her time. "You'll rest and ensure you come with mamma and me to Lady Springfield’s ball tonight. Viscount Aldridge is interested in courting you, he made his sentiments known to me.”
Verity stared at her brother for several moments. “I am three and twenty, Albert. I am quite able to decide on a gentleman I am comfortable with for marriage. Lord Aldridge does not suit my temperament, and I am certain he could not be interested in me since we have never spoken beyond polite queries about the weather.”
Her brother slammed his fist on the table, startling her. “You will listen—” Albert broke off, controlling himself with a visible effort, setting his teeth. “I am only doing what is best for you, Verity. He has an estate in Berkshire, and in Kent. His income is twenty thousand a year, and I have seen how he admires you. It is prudent to give the viscount a chance, and I'll not allow any silly excuses for you. You are three and twenty, and it is time you live on another's benevolence.”
She dabbed her lips with a serviette, trying to control the anger twisting through her. “The viscount is…he is friends with the marquess. I could not endure such a connection, nor will I pretend to.”
Verity did not need to name him. It lingered in the air…the marquess who attacked and hurt me.