A Fine Passion (Bastion Club 4)

Clarice grimaced. “I was seven at the time, and Moira and I were already at loggerheads. Meeting your lover in your own house with an antagonistic young stepdaughter about was hardly wise.”

“But you never let her know you knew,” Nigel said.

“No, but if she’d kept on as she was, I would have.” Clarice looked at Alton. “I intended to confront her with exactly that if she didn’t give way over your marriages.” She smiled. “But now I don’t have to, for you’ve taken care of it yourself.”

Alton’s lips twisted wryly. “Just as well I did. Conniston asked about Moira, so I told him what I’d done. Later, after he’d given his blessing, he told me he wouldn’t have if Moira had still been about. He thinks she’s a viper. He congratulated me for, in his words, ‘coming of age.’”

Clarice studied him for a moment, then let her smile deepen. “In some ways that’s true, and I have to say it’s something of a relief.”

All three of her brothers made rude sounds, but she merely smiled at them all.

“Now,” Alton said, leaning forward, “what about our engagement ball?”

They spent the rest of the afternoon sorting out the arrangements. Jack watched Clarice rise to the occasion, even though she still seemed a trifle dazed.

James was safe, exonerated, his name unimpugned. True, Humphries had yet to withdraw the charges, but as the dean had said, that was only a minor holdup; all would soon be well.

As for Humphries, Jack entertained the gravest concerns, although he said nothing to dampen Clarice’s mood. While she was rattling off instructions regarding the guest list and the invitations, the footman sent to Whitehall returned with a reply from Dalziel; Jack stepped into the front hall to read it.

Dalziel had indeed dispatched a minion to watch and follow Humphries; on reaching the palace and realizing how many exits from the grounds there were, said minion had sent for reinforcements. Unfortunately, before they could arrive and throw a proper net around the palace, Humphries left by a rear gate and disappeared.

For Humphries, the future did not bode well. Dalziel wrote that he would keep Jack informed and requested that Jack reciprocate.

Tucking the note into his pocket, Jack turned to go back into the library, only to find Alton had followed him out and was regarding him evenly.

Jack raised his brows.

Alton studied his face, then nodded toward the note. “That man in Whitehall—was he the one you worked for during the war?”

Jack hesitated; the impulse to veil his past was ingrained, still real.

Alton colored. “I—we—checked. You were a major in the Guards, but no one in your regiment remembers you at all. Yet you’re hardly the forgettable type.”

Jack smiled, entirely sincerely. “Actually,

you’ll find that I’m totally forgettable when I wish to be.” He walked closer, halting before Alton so no one else could overhear. “That was my particular talent, always being able to merge in, to appear as if I belonged.” He met Alton’s eyes steadily. “And yes, the gentleman in Whitehall was my superior for over a decade.”

Alton nodded, then smiled. “We just wanted to know.”

Jack returned his smile easily. “Entirely understandable.”

“Alton? Where the devil are you?”

They turned as Clarice appeared at the library door. She frowned at Alton. “Don’t think to escape.”

Alton looked innocent. “I was just going to send for Sarah.”

Clarice nodded. “Do. And while you’re at it, send for Alice and Emily, too, and Aunt Camleigh and you’d better ask Aunt Bentwood, as well. We’ll need everyone to do their part if we’re to arrange a major ball in five days.”

“It could just be an ordinary ball,” Alton said. “We wouldn’t mind.”

Clarice bent a look of withering scorn upon him. “Don’t be an ass! You’re the Marquess of Melton—your engagement ball, by definition, cannot be anything other than major! Now come on.” She turned back into the room. “You and the others can make a start on the invitations.”

Alton followed her in. Jack followed more slowly in his wake. He paused just inside the threshold and watched Clarice bustle about, setting her brothers to the task of penning invitations.

James was saved, her brothers’ engagements secured and shortly to be appropriately announced to the fashionable world. All she’d come to London to do, they’d achieved. She’d decreed the ball would be held as soon as possible; he’d interpreted that as a wish to have everything done and finished with.

After that…