Page 12 of The Truth about the Marquess
“I see.” For a moment, a flash of thought came to him, wondering what it would be like if he wrote in to the newspaper, seeking advice on how to find the right young lady, though it floated out of his mind very quickly thereafter. He had found a good connection in Miss Dutton, had he not? He might well have no requirement, then, for writing to the newspaper for advice. “You said that it was firm, however, in its tone? I do wonder if that will be taken well.”
“Oh, I should think it would be,” Miss Dutton answered, with a firm nod. “The response was very fair in what it said, speaking of understanding over one’s heart but how one ought not always to listen to what it is saying! The truth is, I think that the lady who wrote in search of advice was seeking to attach herself to a scoundrel rather than to the sensible gentleman who was hopeful of pursuing her. That, I suppose, I can understand.”
A frown played across Oliver’s forehead.
“You can?”
What was offered to him by way of response was nothing other than a slightly enigmatic smile, but nothing more, leaving Oliver feeling a little unsettled. Perhaps, he considered, it was simply that all young ladies could find themselves drawn to rogues and scoundrels – for that was precisely what made such gentlemen so! Telling himself that he had no need to be concerned about such a thing, Oliver cleared his throat and offered a smile.
“I am glad that there was good advice offered. I do hope that the young lady takes it.”
“As do I.”
“Edenbridge?”
Oliver lifted his gaze from Miss Dutton, seeing one of his acquaintances approaching, his eyes a little wide as he looked at Miss Dutton, and then back to Oliver.
“Ah, good afternoon Lord Ravenscourt. The park is rather quiet, is it not? I confess, I am surprised given that–”
“I see that you are walking with Miss Dutton,” the gentleman interrupted, his eyes fixed on the lady who, for whatever reason, stuck her chin out as she narrowed her gaze just a little. “I confess, I am surprised. I always thought that you were an upstanding sort.”
“I beg your pardon?” Confused and a little slighted by the remark, Oliver drew himself up. “I do not think that walkingwith one particular lady makes me in the least bit improper, Lord Ravenscourt! As you can see, she is properly chaperoned.”
Lord Ravenscourt snorted.
“As though that would account for anything!”
This remark left Oliver in such confusion that he did not know what to say. Clearly, there was something that Lord Ravenscourt knew that he did not, something about Miss Dutton that was troubling him – and something that Oliver had no knowledge of.
“Lord Edenbridge?” Another gentleman came to join them, his eyebrows lifting. “And Miss Dutton? I do declare, I did not think–”
“It seems to me that Lord Edenbridge is a good deal more forgiving than the rest of society.”
Miss Dutton’s voice broke through the conversation, her hand now tightening on Oliver’s arm, though he was beginning to go cold all over, fearful now that he had made some sort of mistake in building his connection with Miss Dutton.
Oliver rubbed one hand over his eyes, wishing now that he could step away from the lady without any sort of difficulty, but her hand was so tight, it felt like a vice.
“I was only taking a walk with the lady, that is all.”
“Then you are not… interested in forming a connection with her?”
The urge to say no was strong, but the awareness of how gravely he would hurt Miss Dutton kept those words back. Instead, he became defensive, drawing himself up as he gazed into Lord Ravenscourt’s face.
“I hardly think that such questions are proper for any gentleman of thetonto be asking another, particularly in public,” he said, as firmly as he could, as Lord Ravenscourt’s eyebrows lifted. “If you have something you wish to speak to me about, then I would suggest that it is said in private.”
Lord Ravenscourt sent a look to the other gentleman, then began to chuckle, though it was not a mirthful sound.
“Then you do not know.”
“Know what?” Oliver asked, frowning. “I do not think–”
“You do not know of the scandal involving the lady you are now standing with,” the gentleman answered, as a quick glance towards Miss Dutton revealed a flushed face and sharp eyes directed towards Lord Ravenscourt. “I think that you would do well to learn about that just as soon as possible. I–”
“Excuse me? I cannot make my way past.”
Oliver turned, a little relieved by the interruption. A lady looked back at him and instantly, a rush of what felt like sparks ran up Oliver’s spine and went down over his back. The lady’s eyes were as blue as the sky above them, her golden curls dancing lightly in the summer breeze. Her cheeks were a little pink, but it was the soft smile on her lips that caught his attention. She had clearly not overheard any of their conversation, but was seeking simply to walk along the path which they were blocking by the way that they stood. Whether it was her presence or her smile – which was the antithesis of the conversation that Oliver was in the middle of – he did not know, but instantly, he warmed to her.
“Do excuse us,” he said, hastily. “We were only just now speaking of a… well, that does not matter. We are in your way and–”
