A Fine Passion (Bastion Club 4)

When her gaze dropped from Alton’s face to his, he sat unmoving, giving her an unreadable face and inscrutable eyes. In truth, he couldn’t advise her in this; she knew her brothers, knew their caliber, whether they could indeed help effectively in clearing James’s name, far better than he. Whatever she decided, he would support her stance.

The frown that had formed in her eyes slowly dissipated; she looked up again at Alton. “If I actively help you in winning free of Moira—”

“And winning the hands of our chosen ladies,” Nigel interjected.

Clarice glanced down at him. “And clear the way for you to win your ladies—I refuse to be held responsible for the outcome of any ham-fisted attempts at wooing—if I do that for you, then you’ll devote yourselves to helping us exonerate James in whatever ways Jack and I require.”

In unison, the brothers shot a swift glance at Jack, which he met with impassivity, then the three exchanged glances, weighing Clarice’s words, wordlessly communicating. Jack noticed the phenomenon with a pang, realized Clarice was following the exchange, too. He’d never had siblings, not even close friends. Never shared that type of communication with anyone.

Then Clarice looked across and met his eyes. He read her assurance that her brothers’ help would be worth her effort, and she’d help them, regardless, so her deal was more in the nature of making hay while the sun shone.

She glanced away, and he blinked.

“If it’s any help in making your decisions”—Clarice looked at Roger, then Nigel and finally up at Alton—“do consider what having a suspected traitor in the family will do to your matrimonial aspirations.”

Alton’s lips thinned. Roger’s jaw set; his eyes turned bleak. Nigel swore beneath his breath and received a swift kick from his sister.

“Well,” he complained, “it’s true. Anyway”—he grinned up at her—“you know we’ll help you regardless, and you won’t be able to resist helping us, so all this haggling is purely by the by. So!” He looked from Clarice to Alton, then back again. “Where do you want us to start?”

Clarice studied Nigel’s eager face, then glanced at Alton, before meeting Jack’s gaze. “Jack and his friends are checking the facts surrounding three meetings James allegedly had with a French courier. They’re better qualified than we are to do that. We”—she looked up at Alton—“need to deal with the other side of this threat—the rumor mill and the scandal-mongers. The first thing to do is find out how widespread the rumors are. Once we know that, we can decide on the best way to counter them.”

Alton frowned. “I haven’t heard any rumor.”

“You won’t.” Jack caught Alton’s eye. “No one will say anything before members of the family. You’ll be the last to know.”

“I only heard,” Clarice said, “because I was behind a screen at my modiste’s and those old witches Lady Grimwade and Mrs. Raleigh didn’t know I was there. However, it sounded like the rumor had only just started.”

“Grimwade and Raleigh?” Roger frowned. “If you wanted to spread malicious rumors, those two biddies would be an obvious place to start.”

“Indeed. Someone had clearly whispered in Grimwade’s ear. Raleigh hadn’t heard until then. However, I don’t believe either will say another word, not until they hear more.” Clarice glanced at her brothers. “It’s the middle of the afternoon. Many gentlemen will be stopping by their clubs. If you do the rounds, you should get some idea of how widespread the whispers are.”

“You’ll have to ask friends to help,” Jack said. “You won’t hear anything directly.”

“And whatever you do hear, don’t—do not—react. Not yet.” Clarice met each of her brothers’ eyes sternly. “We need some notion of what scale of problem we’re dealing with, then we can devise the most effective way to counter it. If anyone does the unthinkable and corners you over the matter, plead complete ignorance. Pretend you’ve no idea what they’re talking about.” She paused, then went on, “If we meet again this evening—”

“Oh, we’re definitely meeting this evening.” Alton glanced at his brothers, then back at Clarice. “We want you to meet our fiancées-in-all-but-name. We’ve arranged for invitations to be sent here for the balls we’ll be attending tonight. We’ll meet you at the Fortescues’. We’ve agreed that Roger’s case is most urgent, then mine. Nigel”—Alton nudged his youngest brother with the toe of his boot—“can wait his turn.”

Clarice looked up at Alton, her expression an unresolved mixture of haughty umbrage and cool calculation.

Jack managed to hide the smile he knew she wouldn’t appreciate. She’d wanted Alton to take charge of his life and the marquisate, but Jack doubted she’d envisaged him taking charge of her, too.

But calculation won out; she inclined her head. “Very well. We’ll meet you at the Fortescues at ten o’clock.”

Jack felt Clarice’s glance, but didn’t meet it; she knew he’d escort her to whatever balls and parties she chose to attend. Instead, he watched her brothers and their reaction to her “We’ll meet you.” They weren’t at all sure how to take that, weren’t at all sure they approved.

Alton shifted his stance, fixed his dark gaze on Clarice; Jack got the impression he was girding for battle. “There’s one other thing, Clary—we want you to come home. To come and live with us again at Melton House.”

She looked up, distracted, surprise clear in her face, then came that moment of hesitation, of looking inward, that Jack knew signified that she was considering, thinking before she acted…

His heart stuttered. She hadn’t expected any of this, hadn’t known her brothers had missed her so sorely, that they would welcome her back so warmly. That far from ostracizing her, her family would embrace her, falling on her neck, perhaps, but being needed and appreciated was balm to ladies such as she.

Jack drew in a breath, held it, and waited. There was nothing he could do to sway her decision, not with her brothers looking on, ready to leap to her defence if she gave the slightest sign; they would come between her and him in a heartbeat if they thought she would allow it.

He glanced briefly at them, confirmed they were watching not her but him. Regardless of their current state, none of them were slow-tops, nor truly weak. It was as Clarice had said; they hadn’t yet realized their potential, their ability to get things done. And they loved her; that was transparent. All three had seen enough, sensed enough to realize there was some connection, a relationship of some ilk between her and him. They would watch him like a hawk from now on; he didn’t care. They wouldn’t see anything to raise their hackles, because his intentions were all they might wish…

The notion of enlisting their aid in his campaign to win her swam into his mind; he blinked, then metaphorically shook it from his head. No matter how tempting the thought, no matter how supportive they might be, she’d learn of any conspiracy and be furious. Not a wise way to woo B

oadicea.