A Fine Passion (Bastion Club 4)

ing, will get us further faster.”

Christian was nodding. “An excellent notion. Each of us will be able to press harder. The chain of command will be clearer and more direct.”

“I agree.” Deverell set down his mug and fished in his coat pocket, drawing out the sheet on which Jack had previously written the addresses of the three meeting places. “So let’s see…”

Later, before he dressed for their evening among the ton, Jack sat at the desk in the club’s library and composed a note to his aunt, Lady Davenport, requesting she share its contents with Lady Cowper.

He expended considerable effort on the wording; with such ladies, a hint was more intriguing than a statement. Nevertheless, when he read the completed letter through, the nature of his request shone clearly; he wanted them to assist Lady Clarice Altwood to return to the ton at the level to which her birth entitled her.

He alluded to the reasons behind her need to return, a serious but unfounded threat to a near relative and to assist her brothers. No need to be more specific; the bare phrases would be enough to ensure his aunts, powerful grandes dames that they were, would be agog to learn of Clarice’s needs.

Of his reasons for helping her, he said not a word.

Their imaginations would run amok. If they granted him and Clarice an interview the next morning, as he requested, he fully expected both ladies to be bright-eyed and nearly bouncing with curiosity.

Smiling, he signed his name, then recalled, and added a postscript, mentioning that if they knew of any lady they would trust to help influence matters in the political sphere, he’d be grateful for an introduction.

Sanding the letter, then sealing it, he grinned. He’d wager any amount that when he and Clarice met with his aunts, Lady Osbaldestone would be there, too.

Chapter 15

By Jack’s side, Clarice entered the Fortescues’ front hall and joined the line of guests slowly inching up the main staircase. Had it been left to her, she would have chosen a different venue for her reappearance in the ton. The Fortescues had two daughters to establish; their ball would therefore be the usual crush beloved of tonnish society during the Season.

Glancing around at the other guests thronging the stairs, she murmured, “Not much chance of accomplishing much in James’s defence here.” For that, she would have chosen one of the more select gatherings of the powerful elite.

Jack shrugged, his hand lightly stroking hers where it rested on his sleeve. “We’ll be able to learn from your brothers if there are any rumors circulating yet. Until we know that, there’s not much you can do.”

She grimaced, acknowledging that truth, wishing it were otherwise. Her nature was to forge ahead, to get things done, but in defending James, they did indeed have to tread carefully. “I sent notes to my aunts, my father’s two sisters and my mother’s sister, and to my maternal uncle, informing them that I was in London and would be going about among the ton at Alton’s request, primarily to ensure that the unfortunate allegations against James are not made unnecessarily sensational.”

Jack’s lips curved in an appreciative smile. “I take it your aunts and uncle are not fans of the ‘unnecessarily sensational’?”

“Not when it’s their families involved.” Clarice noted the many swift glances thrown their way. Leaning closer to Jack, she lowered her voice. “At least we’re attracting a satisfactory degree of notice.”

“Hardly surprising given that gown.”

The crisp note in his voice had her blinking up at him, meeting his eyes. “It’s the latest style.”

The line of his lips grew more grim than appreciative. “For a lady of your age, status, wealth, and figure, no doubt. Unfortunately, such a gown merely serves to emphasize how few ladies of your age, status, wealth, and figure there are among the ton.”

She stared at him; he sounded so disgruntled she didn’t know whether to laugh or frown. “Don’t you like it?” She’d opted for the forest green satin; the very dark green was a dramatic hue few ladies could carry off well. With its beaded heart-shaped neckline and the elegant fall of its sheening skirts, the gown was perfect for drawing the eye and fixing attention. Time enough, once the ton had realized she was indeed back, to shock them with the plum silk.

Jack held her eyes, then let his gaze lower; briefly, he scanned, then again met her gaze. “I like the gown, as you’re well aware. What I’m not enamored of is who else might find it…overly alluring.”

She nearly laughed; certainly she smiled, rather thrilled if truth be known. That he approved of the gown had been evident the instant he’d set eyes on her in her suite that evening, but she’d never before had any gentleman intimate that he was jealous of the attention—other male attention—she drew. It was a rather heady feeling. Lightly squeezing the steely muscles beneath her fingers, she glanced away.

One more step upward and Jack swept her forward to greet their host and hostess.

Lady Fortescue’s eyes widened with delight and avid curiosity. “Lady Clarice.” She touched fingers. “How lovely to see you back among the ton. I was quite bowled over when your brother told me the news.”

Clarice merely smiled and made no reply.

Extending her hand, Lady Fortescue beamed at Jack. “And Lord Warnefleet! This is a double pleasure. I’d heard you’d retired to the country, my lord.”

Jack smiled charmingly. “I’ve returned to escort Lady Clarice about town.”

Clarice suppressed the urge to raise her brows haughtily at him. When, intrigued, Lady Fortescue turned to her, she gestured lightly. “We’re neighbors in the country.”

“Ah…” Her ladyship wasn’t sure what to make of that.