Page 43 of Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman

While Greville’s mind worked feverishly, Nicky said, ‘At any rate, your release papers should arrive soon. What do you intend to do then?

‘I’ve a small bequest from my aunt; with that and any prize money that comes through, I’d like to purchase a property and would appreciate your advice on a suitable one. Beyond that, I’m fully aware of the very poor job I did at Blenhem Hill. Arrogant, and, yes, resentful of you, I let a venal man lull me into ignoring my responsibilities, abusing your trust and leaving unprotected those who should have been under my care. My time at Ashton Grove has made me more painfully aware of just how difficult my negligence must have made life for the tenants. I’d like to make amends to them somehow, if I could.’

Englemere fell silent again, tapping one finger on his desk. ‘I’d turn Blenhem Hill back over to you and let you make those amends, but I don’t own it any longer. Always a man who relished a challenge, my friend Ned—your sister’s husband, Sir Edward Greaves—bought it from me. He has considerable other property to manage, however, so he might well be willing to sell it back to you.’

Return to Blenhem Hill, face those he’d injured, earn back their trust and work the rest of his life assisting them. At Blenhem, he could take up the worthy occupation he’d been seeking while at the same time redressing the wrongs of the past.

The rightness of it settled deep within him, filling some of the emptiness Amanda Neville’s departure had left at the centre of his spirit. ‘I would relish the opportunity.’

‘Why not talk with Ned, then? As far as I know, he and your sister are still at Blenhem Hill, completing the repairs and refurbishment Ned began when he took over the property last spring. Joanna is to present Ned with their first child shortly; I’m sure she would appreciate a visit.’

‘I owe her a great deal, too,’ Greville acknowledged.

‘You do indeed. Had it not been for her intervention, you might still be languishing at sea. Captain Harrington was in no hurry to release such a hard-working member of the ship’s company, he told me. If Ned can’t give you satisfaction, come back to see me. I’ll keep my eyes open; Blenhem Hill isn’t the only small estate in England. I’m sure we can find a suitable challenge for a man the pirate captain called “Rage of Infidels”.’

‘Did he indeed?’ Greville asked, a bit embarrassed.

‘So Captain Harrington told me.’

Clearing his throat gruffly, Greville offered Nicky his hand. ‘Thank you for all you’ve done.’ At the words, he had to grin. ‘You can’t imagine how hard that would once have been for me to say! I’m sorry I spent so many years resenting you.’

Grinning back, Nicky shook it. ‘I’m a rather charming bloke once you get to know me, or so my wife says. But it is hard to feel beholden. If Ned turns down your proposition, come back and I’ll recommend a property in need of so much work, you’ll swiftly recover from your gratitude.’

A knock sounded at the door, followed by the entrance of Englemere’s wife Sarah. ‘Greville, how good to see you! Will you be staying long? There’s a ball tonight for the daughter of your Devon host, the protégée of my old friend Lady Parnell. Won’t you accompany us?’

‘A ball for…Amanda Neville?’ he blurted.

At Lady Englemere’s nod, he tried to sort out an immediate torrent of conflicting feelings. He would see her again! But only as one among a great crowd, most of them London notables whose society she was endeavouring to enter. She’d have little time to spare for a man who was, and devoutly wished to remain, a simple countryman.

The political members of society led lives less devoted to idleness than the rest of the ton, he acknowledged, but still, the ball represented a world that no longer appealed to him. He’d already wasted far too many evenings gaming and drinking at other, admittedly much less respectable, entertainments among gentlemen of good birth. There’d be only one lady present with whom he wished to dance, and she would be besieged by admirers.

‘I, ah, didn’t bring evening dress with me, unfortunately,’ he said at last. ‘But thank you for the invitation.’

‘The odds at the clubs say Trowbridge is going to snap up Miss Neville…and her excellent dowry,’ Englemere was saying.

‘Which only proves he’s the smart lad everyone claims him to be,’ Sarah replied. ‘It’s nearly certain he’ll receive a prominent position soon, especially if Wellington ends up forming a government in the next few years.’

Trowbridge. Was she really going to accept that complaisant son of privilege? Greville’s immediate flare of jealous anger was followed by an ache of desolation.

‘You met Miss Neville before she left for London, did you not?’ Lady Englemere asked.

He found that lady’s penetrating gaze fixed on him. Afraid she might have glimpsed the pain on his face before he schooled his expression to neutrality, he replied, ‘Yes. A charming young lady. It would be…pleasant to see her again, but since I would like to visit Blenhem Hill before I return to Ashton Grove, I intend to leave very early tomorrow. Lord Bronning isn’t fully recovered and I wish to get back as soon as possible.’

Had he been too dismissive? Greville tried to interpret the swift glance exchanged between husband and wife.

Before he could decide whether it would be better or worse to elaborate on his refusal, Lady Englemere said, ‘We won’t press you, then—on this occasion, at least! But we both hope you will soon make us a longer visit. Your sister Joanna wed one of our dearest friends and we would like the opportunity to know you better, too.’

After a further expression of thanks, Greville took his leave, wanting to make a swift exit before his face or voice revealed anything further to Englemere’s keen-eyed lady.

Outside the Englemere town house, he paused. It was only a short drive to Upper Brook Street. It was now mid-morning, late enough that even the newest Diamond of London society should be awake. He could make that call now and reassure Amanda her father was recovering well, something doubtless still of concern to her.

For moment, he let himself think about seeing Amanda Neville. Longing rose in him, fiercer and hotter even than his desire.

He ached to inhale the scent of her perfume, gaze into the azure depths of her eyes. See sunlight gleam in the gold of her hair. Hear the musical lilt of her laughter, so full of life and joy it made him smile just to listen.

See her…with Trowbridge at her side?

The earl’s son might be there even now, if he were courting her as assiduously as Englemere said.

Though he truly hoped she would marry well and be happy, he wasn’t sure he had the strength of character to witness her with the earl’s son without succumbing to the impulse to smash his fist into Trowbridge’s perfect nose. Knowing Amanda was happy, perhaps some day he’d be able to purge her from his heart and mind.

After a few more moments’ pondering, he decided to call regardless. Were their positions reversed, he’d be incensed to know someone with first-hand knowledge of a matter dear to him had not bothered to take the few minutes necessary to bring him the latest news about it.

He’d make a short call, reassure her and leave.

And shut out of his mind the fear that purging her from his heart was a task not even her marrying Trowbridge could accomplish.

Chapter Twenty-One

While Greville lingered outside Englemere House, on the other side of Mayfair, Amanda was riding in Green Park with Mr Hillyard.

‘You’re rather vigorous for one who was up so late,’ Hillyard said, reining in his gelding beside her mare after a brisk gallop.

‘If you can’t keep up, stay home and sleep,’ Amanda tossed back.

‘Wonderful advice…as long as I’m not sleeping alone.’

‘An uncommon event, I imagine,’ she returned tartly, making Hillyard throw back his head and laugh.

It had become a game between them—he dropping innuendo-filled remarks to try to embarrass her, she refusing to blush and, instead, flashing back at him.

Obviously not yet conceding the point, he gave her a lascivious glance. ‘Are you sure, before you trade the exhilaration of being fêted for the boredom of wedlock, I can’t persuade you to be indiscreet—again?’

This trick went to him, for she felt her face colouring. Brazening through, she said, ‘It’s never been established—beyond in your wishful thinking—that I ever was indiscreet.’

He gazed at her knowingly, making her feel for one panicky moment as if he could see through her mind to that passionate episode. ‘Oh, I’m nearly certain of it. However, before you wed my eminently proper cousin, you might consider which man you want waiting in your bedchamber every night.’

She couldn’t help it; the image flooding her mind wasn’t Lucien Trowbridge or any of the other gentlemen who now filled the entryway with their floral tributes and crowded Lady Parnell’s drawing room. Instead, she saw auburn hair curling over a collar, full, sensual lips curved in a crooked smile, felt fiery kisses claiming her lips, trailing up her throat while knowing fingers set her calves, her thighs aflame… Anguished longing pierced her, and for a moment, she wished she’d never left Ashton.

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