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The Earl's Inconvenient Wife
Julia Justiss
The obvious solution: A marriage of convenience! Part of Sisters of Scandal: Temperance Lattimar is too scandalous for a Season, until finally she’s sponsored by Lady Sayleford. The whole charade feels wrong when she doesn’t want a husband, but Temper feels awful when MP and aristocrat Gifford Newell is appointed to “protect” her at society events. With her past, she knows she’s not an ideal wife…but then a marriage of convenience to the earl becomes the only option!


The obvious solution:
A marriage of convenience!
Part of Sisters of Scandal: Temperance Lattimar is too scandalous for a Season, until finally she’s sponsored by Lady Sayleford. The whole charade feels wrong when she doesn’t want a husband, but Temper feels awful when MP and aristocrat Gifford Newell is appointed to “protect” her at society events. With her past, she knows she’s not an ideal wife...but then a marriage of convenience to Giff becomes the only option!
JULIA JUSTISS wrote her own ideas for Nancy Drew stories in her third-grade notebook, and has been writing ever since. After publishing poetry in college she turned to novels. Her Regency historical romances have won or been placed in contests by the Romance Writers of America, RT Book Reviews, National Readers’ Choice and the Daphne du Maurier Award. She lives with her husband in Texas. For news and contests visit juliajustiss.com (http://www.juliajustiss.com).
Also by Julia Justiss (#u99a27dcf-481b-5ead-8d49-e037598bf7bf)
Hadley’s Hellions miniseries
Forbidden Nights with the Viscount
Stolen Encounters with the Duchess
Convenient Proposal to the Lady
Secret Lessons with the Rake
Sisters of Scandal miniseries
A Most Unsuitable Match
The Earl’s Inconvenient Wife
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
The Earl’s Inconvenient Wife
Julia Justiss


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08880-0
THE EARL’S INCONVENIENT WIFE
© 2019 Janet Justiss
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my fellow Zombie Bells,
for twenty-odd years of friendship, support and
understanding. Along with brainstorming, fixing plot
holes, figuring out muddled motivation, clarifying the
Black Moment, and creating general hilarity. When the
text bells start ringing, the muse starts singing!
Contents
Cover (#u49ca159f-2e2d-5c1b-9289-bb6b0ffdd2b6)
Back Cover Text (#u7ae6d686-f6f9-557a-bf01-feb1eeba21a1)
About the Author (#u0a9a2355-d4c9-529e-bbc6-573ffa0f2a5f)
Booklist (#u6ab1def6-a226-5454-93dd-cd5049133b76)
Title Page (#u4f1aefb5-be92-5f0f-ae76-e0a16dc69c23)
Copyright (#u4297aaab-a1fb-5b8d-9421-1b69b22e14cf)
Dedication (#ue4127fa0-813a-529e-a8e5-09e22a6938f8)
Chapter One (#uf6c39051-04d6-5847-84e7-a9b8d0e8578f)
Chapter Two (#u792413a5-a9ed-5107-a963-b7bd90ace431)
Chapter Three (#udfff6648-2b1f-58cc-af9f-e7d539040744)
Chapter Four (#u46500a23-0f4f-583f-bc2c-28f9ff230c68)
Chapter Five (#uc632cc5f-7b27-538e-8ccc-4eb8046ffcfa)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#u99a27dcf-481b-5ead-8d49-e037598bf7bf)
London—early April, 1833
‘You’re certain you won’t come with me?’ Temperance Lattimar’s twin sister asked as she looked up from the trunk into which she’d just laid the last tissue-wrapped gown. ‘I know Bath isn’t the centre of society it used to be, but there will be balls and musicales and soirées to attend. And, with luck, attend without whispers of Mama’s latest escapade following us everywhere.’
Temperance jumped up from the window seat overlooking the tiny garden of Lord Vraux’s Brook Street town house and walked over to give Prudence a hug. ‘Much as I will miss you, darling Pru, I have no intention of leaving London. I won’t let the rumour-mongers chase me away. But I do very much hope that Bath will treat you kindly—’ though I doubt it, London gossips being sure to keep their Bath counterparts updated about the latest scandal ʻ—and that you will find that gentleman to love you and give you the normal family you’ve always wanted.’ Letting her sister go, Temper laughed. ‘Although, growing up in this family, I’m not sure you’ll recognise “normal” even if you find it.’
‘You mean,’ Prudence asked, irony—and anger—in her voice, ‘not everyone grows up with a father who won’t touch them, a mother with lovers tripping up and down the stairs every day and rumours that only their oldest brother is really the son of their father?’
‘Remember when we were little—how much we enjoyed having all those handsome young men bring us hair ribbons and sweets?’ Temper said, trying to tease her sister out of her pique.
Pru stopped folding the tissue paper she was inserting to cushion the gowns and sent Temper a look her twin had no trouble interpreting.
‘I suppose it’s only us, the lucky “Vraux Miscellany”, who fit that sorry description,’ Temper said, changing tack, torn between sympathy for the distress of her twin and a smouldering anger for the way society had treated their mother. ‘Gregory, the anointed heir, then you and me and Christopher, the...add-ons. Heavens, what would Papa have done had Gregory not survived? He might have had to go near Mama again.’
‘Maybe if he had, they’d have reconciled, whatever difficulty lay between them, and we would have ended up being a normal family.’
Temper sighed. ‘Is there such a thing? Although, to be fair, you have to admit that Mama has fulfilled the promise she made to us on our sixteenth birthday. She’s conducted herself with much more restraint these last six years.’
‘Maybe so, but by then, the damage was already done,’ Pru said bitterly. ‘How wonderful, at your first event with your hair up and your skirts down, to walk into the drawing room and hear someone whisper, “There they are—the Scandal Sisters”. Besides, as this latest incident shows, Mama’s reputation is such that she doesn’t have to do anything now to create a furore.’
‘Not when there are always blockheaded men around to do it for her,’ Temper said acidly. ‘Well, nothing we can do about that.’
After helping her twin hold down the lid of the trunk and latch it, she gave Pru another hug. ‘Done, then! Aunt Gussie collects you this morning, doesn’t she? So take yourself off to Bath, find that worthy gentleman and create the warm, happy, normal family you so desire. No one could be more deserving of a happy ending than you, my sweet sister!’
‘Thank you, Temper,’ Pru said as her sister crossed to the door. ‘I shall certainly try my hardest to make it so. But...are you still so determined not to marry? I know you’ve insisted that practically since we were sixteen, but...
Shock, his suffocating weight, searing pain... Sucking in a breath, Temper forced the awful memories away, delaying her reply until she could be sure her voice was steady. ‘You really think I would give up my freedom, put myself legally and financially under the thumb of some man who can ignore me or beat me or spend my entire dowry without my being able to do a thing to prevent it?’
‘I know we haven’t been witness to a...very hopeful example, but not all marriages are disasters. Look at Christopher and Ellie.’
‘They are fortunate.’
‘Christopher’s friends seem to be equally fortunate—Lyndlington with his Maggie, David Smith with his duchess, Ben Tawny with Lady Alyssa,’ Pru pointed out.
Temper shifted uncomfortably. If she were truly honest, she had to admit a niggle of envy for the sort of radiant happiness her brother Christopher and his friends had found with the women they’d chosen as wives.
But the possibility of finding happiness in marriage wasn’t worth the certainty of having to face a trauma she’d never been able to master—or the cost of revealing it to anyone else.
‘Besides,’ Pru pressed her point, ‘it’s the character of the husband that will determine how fairly and kindly the wife is treated. And we both know there are fair, kind, admirable men in London. Look at Gregory—or Gifford!’
Gifford Newell. Her brother’s best friend and carousing buddy, who’d acted as another older brother, tease and friend since she was in leading strings. Although lately, something seemed to have shifted between them...some sort of wordless tension that telegraphed between them when they were together, edgy, exciting...and threatening.
She might be inexperienced, but, with a mother like theirs, Temper knew where that sort of tension led. And she wanted none of it.
‘Very well, I grant you that there are some upstanding gentlemen in England, and some of them actually find the happy unions they deserve. I... I just don’t think marriage is for me.’ Squeezing her sister’s hand, she crossed to the doorway. ‘Don’t forget to come say goodbye before you leave! Now, you’d better find where your maid has disappeared to with the rest of your bonnets before Aunt Gussie arrives. You know she hates to be kept waiting.’
Pru gave her a troubled look, but to Temper’s relief did not question her any further. She kept very few secrets from her sister, but this one she simply couldn’t share.
Tacitly accepting Temper’s change of subject, Pru said, ‘Of course I’ll bid everyone goodbye. And you’re correct, Aunt Gussie will be anxious to get started. Anyway, since you can’t be presented this year, what do you mean to do in London?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Temper replied, looking back at her from the doorway. ‘Maybe I’ll create some scandals of my own!’
* * *
Trying to dispel the forlorn feeling caused by the imminent departure of the twin who had been her constant companion and confidante her entire life, Temper closed the door to the chamber they shared, then hesitated.
Maybe she should gather her cloak, find her maid and drag the long-suffering girl with her for a brisk walk in Hyde Park. With it being already mid-morning, it was too late to indulge in riding at a gallop and, as restless and out of sorts as she was this morning, she wouldn’t be able to abide confining herself to a decorous trot. While she hesitated, considering, she heard the close of the hall door downstairs and a murmur of voices going into the front parlour.
One voice sounded like Christopher’s. Delighted that the younger of her two brothers might be paying them a visit, Temper ran lightly down the stairs and into the room.
‘Christopher, it is you!’ she cried, spying her brother. ‘But you didn’t bring Ellie?’
‘No, my wife’s at her school this morning,’ Christopher said, walking over to give her a hug. ‘Newell caught me as we were leaving Parliament and, learning I meant to visit you and Gregory, insisted on tagging along.’
Belatedly, Temper turned to curtsy to the gentleman lounging at the mantel beside her older brother Gregory. ‘Giff, sorry! I heard Christopher’s voice, but not yours. How are you?’
‘Very well, Temper. And you are looking beautiful, as always.’
The intensity of the appreciative look in the green eyes of her brother’s friend sent a little frisson of...something through her. Temper squelched the feeling. What was wrong with her? This was Giff, whom she’d known for ever.
‘Blonde, blue-eyed and wanton—the very image of Mama, right?’ she retorted, hiding, as she often did, vulnerability behind a mask of bravado. ‘I suppose you’ve heard all about the latest contretemps.’
‘That was the main reason I came,’ Christopher said, motioning her to a seat beside him on the sofa. ‘To see if there was anything I could do. And to apologise.’
‘Heavens, Christopher, you’ve nothing to apologise for! Ellie is a darling! We would have disowned you if you hadn’t married her.’
Her brother smiled warmly. ‘Of course I think so. I’ve been humbled and gratified by the support of my family and closest friends, but there’s no hope that society will ever receive us. And wedding a woman who spent ten years as a courtesan wasn’t very helpful to the marital prospects of my maiden twin sisters, who already had their mother’s reputation to deal with.’
‘Society’s loss if they refuse to receive Ellie,’ Temper said. ‘To punish for ever a girl who was virtually sold by her father... Well, that’s typical of our world, where gentlemen run everything! Which is why we need to elect women to Parliament!’ She gave her brother and Newell a challenging look.
Rather than recoiling, as she rather expected, Christopher laughed. ‘That’s what Lyndlington’s wife, Maggie, says. Since their daughter was born, she’s becoming quite the militant.’
‘Maybe I can join her efforts,’ Temper replied. ‘If you and the other Hellions in Parliament are so sincere about reforming society, you could start with the laws that make a married woman the virtual property of her husband.’
‘Maybe we should. But the only earth-shaking matter I wanted to address today was to find out what had been decided about you and Pru,’ Christopher replied. ‘So Aunt Gussie agreed that, in the wake of the scandal, presenting you in London this year wouldn’t be wise?’
‘Temperance might prefer that you not discuss this with me present,’ Newell cautioned, looking over at her. ‘It is a family matter.’
‘But you’re practically family,’ Temper replied and had to suppress again that strange sense of tension—as if some current arced in the air between them—when she met Gifford’s gaze. If she ignored it, surely it would go away.
‘I don’t mind discussing “The Great Matter” with you present,’ she continued, looking away from him. ‘Since you are outside the family, you might have a more disinterested perspective.’
‘The situation has improved a slight bit since last week,’ Gregory said. ‘It appears that Hallsworthy is going to recover after all, so Farnham should be able to return from the Continent.’
‘Stupid men,’ Temper muttered. ‘It would have been better if they’d both shot true and put a ball through each of their wooden heads. Honestly, in this day and age, duelling over Mama’s virtue! You’d think it was the era of powdered wigs and rouge! It’s not as if she’s ever spoken more than a few polite words to either of them.’
‘Having them both dead would hardly have reduced the scandal,’ Gregory observed.
‘Perhaps not, but the population of London would have been improved by the removal of two knuckleheads who’ve never done anything more useful in their lives than swill brandy, wager at cards and make fools of themselves over women!’
‘Such a dim view you hold of the masculine gender,’ Newell protested. ‘Come now, you must admit not all men are self-indulgent, expensive fribbles.’
Fairness compelled her to admit he was right. ‘Very well,’ she conceded, ‘I will allow that there still are a few men of honour and character in England, my brothers and you, Giff, included.’
‘My point exactly,’ he said, levelling those dangerous green eyes at her. ‘I could also point out a number of the fairer sex who aren’t exactly paragons of perfection.’
‘Like the society dragons who won’t accept Ellie? Yes, I’ll admit that, too. But you, Giff, have to admit that though the ladies and their acid tongues may control who moves in society, it’s women who are punished for any infraction of the rules, while men are...mostly exempt from them.’
‘We concede,’ Giff said. ‘Life isn’t fair.’
‘Shall we move from the philosophical to the practical?’ Gregory said briskly. ‘As you may know, Christopher, since a presentation in London this Season would be...awkward at best, Aunt Gussie offered to take the girls to Bath. Where at least they could go out a bit in society, maybe even meet some eligible gentlemen.’
‘I have no desire to wed some elderly widower and spend the rest of my husband’s life feeding him potions and pushing his chair to the Pump Room,’ Temper declared.
‘And as you might suspect,’ Gregory continued after Temper’s interruption, ‘practical Pru agreed, but intransigent Temper insists on remaining in London and brazening it out. Much as I love you, sis, I really would like to see you out of this house and settled in your own establishment.’
‘Since I don’t plan to marry, why must I even have a Season?’ When none of the gentlemen bothered to reply to that, she sighed. ‘Very well, but if I must have one, I’d rather have it straight away and not delay yet another year. Most females make their bows at sixteen and, what with one catastrophe or other occurring to forestall a presentation, Pru and I are pushing two-and-twenty, practically on the shelf! The Season will be a disaster, of course, but maybe after that, everyone will leave me alone and allow me to do what I wish.’
‘Are you sure you want to press forward this year?’ Gifford said. ‘If you are cut by most of society, you will have few invitations to balls or entertainments or dinners. Wouldn’t it be wiser to wait another year and try then, after this scandal has been buried under a host of new ones?’
‘What’s to say there won’t be a new scandal next year?’ Temper objected. ‘Paying court to Mama’s beauty is practically a...a rite of passage among the idiots coming down from university. Though she doesn’t go about in society nearly as much as she used to, she’s still as beautiful as ever. And as fascinating to gentlemen.’
‘Perhaps even more so, since she doesn’t encourage any of them,’ Gifford acknowledged with a wry smile. ‘The lure of the Beauty Unattainable.’
‘The lure of knowing she hasn’t always been “unattainable” and the arrogance that makes some man think he might be the one to succeed with her,’ Temper corrected.
‘Let’s get back to the point,’ Gregory said. ‘I’d just as soon not wait to settle your future until next year, either. But if you insist on having your debut here, we shall need some eminently respectable female to sponsor you, since Aunt Gussie will be in Bath with Pru. Obviously, Mama can’t do it.’
‘Ellie is out, too, for equally obvious reasons,’ Christopher said. ‘But...I could ask Maggie. As the daughter of a marquess and wife of a viscount, she might have enough influence to manage it.’
‘No, Christopher, I wouldn’t want to ask her, even though she would probably agree. She’s still fully occupied with the baby and, let’s be honest, attempting to sponsor one of the “Scandal Sisters” won’t enhance the social standing of whoever attempts it. Maggie is too important as a political hostess for Giles, helping him in his efforts to move the Reform bills forward, to risk diminishing her effectiveness, tarnishing her reputation by sponsoring me.’
‘But society knows how close we are all, almost as close as family. They will understand the loyalty that would have her stand by you.’
‘They might understand her loyalty, but they’d certainly question her judgement. No, if I press forward with this, I shall need a sponsor whose reputation is so unassailable that no one would dare oppose her.’
‘How about Lady Sayleford?’ Gifford suggested.
‘Maggie’s great-aunt?’ Temper said, frowning. ‘That connection is a bit remote, don’t you think? I don’t doubt that Maggie would take me on, but why should Lady Sayleford bother herself over the likes of me?’
‘Maybe because I ask her.’ Before Temper could sputter out a response, he grinned. ‘She’s my godmother. Didn’t you know? My mother and her daughter were bosom friends.’
While Christopher and Gregory laughed, Temper shook her head. ‘I didn’t know, but I’m not surprised. Thick as a den of thieves, the Upper Ten Thousand.’
‘You can’t deny she has the social standing to carry it off,’ Gifford said.
Temper smiled. ‘If Lady Sayleford couldn’t get her protégée admitted wherever she chose, London society as we know it would cease to exist. But even she would have to expend social capital to achieve it. I wouldn’t want to ask it of her.’
‘Knowing Lady Sayleford, she might see it as a challenge. She’s never marched to anyone’s tune, knows everything about everyone and has fingers in so many pies, no one dares to cross her.’
‘I’ve never met her, but she sounds like a woman I’d admire,’ Temper admitted.
‘If you could secure her agreement, Lady Sayleford would be an excellent sponsor,’ Gregory said, looking encouraged. ‘If anyone can find an eligible parti to take this beloved termagant off my hands, it’s the Dowager Countess.’
‘Need I repeat, I have no intention of ending a Season, even one sponsored by the redoubtable Lady Sayleford, by marrying?’
When the gentleman once again ignored her comment, Christopher agreeing with Gregory that Lady Sayleford would make an excellent sponsor and asking Gifford again if he thought he could coax her into it, Temper slammed her hand on the table.
‘Enough! Very well, I admit that Lady Sayleford has a better chance of foisting me on society than any other matron I can think of. But don’t go making your plans yet, gentlemen. Let me at least approach Papa and see if I can convince him to release funds from my dowry for me to set up my own establishment—and get out of your house and hair, dear brother.’
The men exchanged dubious glances.
‘If I can persuade him to release my dowry,’ Temper persisted, ‘you’ll have no “situation” to discuss.’
‘Yes, we would,’ Gifford said. ‘We’d be figuring out a way to rein you in before you organised an expedition to the Maghreb or India, like Lady Hester Stanhope.’
‘Riding camels or wading in the Ganges.’ With a beaming smile, Temper nodded. ‘I like that prospect far better than wading through the swamp of a Season.’
‘Well you might, but don’t get your hopes up,’ Christopher warned. ‘You know Papa.’
Despite her bold assertion, Temper knew as well as Christopher how dim were her chances of success. ‘I do,’ she acknowledged with a sigh. ‘I’ll be lucky if he even acknowledges I’ve entered the room, much less deigns to talk with me. At least he’s unlikely to bellow at me or throw things. With all the sabres and cutlasses and daggers he’s in the process of cataloguing now, that’s reassuring. Well, I’m off to pin him down and try my luck.’
‘If I leave before you get finished, let me know what happens,’ Christopher said. ‘I’ll be happy to return for another strategy session.’ Planting a kiss on her forehead, he gave her a little push. ‘You better go now, so you won’t miss saying goodbye to Pru.’
‘You’re right,’ Temper said, glancing at the mantel clock. ‘Aunt Gussie could arrive at any minute. Very well—I’m off to the lion’s den!’ Blowing the others a kiss, she walked out—feeling Gifford Newell’s gaze following her as almost like a burn on her shoulders.

Chapter Two (#u99a27dcf-481b-5ead-8d49-e037598bf7bf)
Gifford Myles Newell, younger son of the Earl of Fensworth, watched his best friend’s sister walk gracefully out of the room. Just when had she changed from a bubbly, vivacious little girl into this stunning beauty?
A beauty, he had to admit, who raised most unbrotherly feelings in him. Sighing, he fought to suppress the arousal she seemed always to spark in him of late.
Unfortunately, one could not seduce the virginal sister of one’s best friend, no matter how much her face and voluptuous figure reminded one of the most irresistible of Cyprians. And though she made an interesting and amusing companion—one never knew what she would say or do next, except one could count on it not being conventional—when he married, he would need a mature, elegant, serene lady to manage his household and preside with tact and diplomacy over the political dinners at which so much of the business of government was conducted. Not a hoyden who blurted out whatever she was thinking, heedless of the consequences.
Sadly, when he did marry, he’d probably have to give up the association that had enlivened his life since the day he’d met her when she was six. He chuckled, remembering the rock she’d tossed and he’d had to duck as he entered the back garden at Brook Street, her explaining as she apologised that she’d thought he was the bad man who’d just made her mama cry.
Her body might be the stuff of a man’s erotic dreams, but she was still very much that impulsive, tempestuous child. A mature, elegant, serene wife would be a useful addition to his Parliamentary career, but he would miss the rough-and-tumble exchange of ideas, the sheer delight of talking with Temperance, never knowing where her lively mind or her unexpected reactions would take one next.
He wished the man who did end up wedding her good luck trying to control that fireball of uninhibited energy! Regardless of her childish protests that she never intended to marry, she almost inevitably would. There was no other occupation available for a gently bred female and he sincerely doubted her father, Lord Vraux, would release her dowry so his daughter could go trekking about the world, alone. How would she support herself, if she didn’t marry?
She was too outspoken to become anyone’s paid companion and no wife with eyes in her head would engage a woman who looked like Temperance Lattimar to instruct her children, unless her sons were very young and her husband a diplomat permanently posted at the back of beyond.
Fortunately, figuring out how to control Temperance Lattimar wouldn’t be his problem. Until the day some other poor man assumed that responsibility—or until he bowed to the inevitable, gave in to his mother’s ceaseless haranguing and found a wealthy wife to remove the burden of his upkeep from the family finances—he would simply enjoy the novelty of her company.
And keep his attraction to her firmly under control.
He looked up to find both Christopher and Gregory staring at him. Feeling his face heat, he said, ‘She’s still as much a handful as she was at six, isn’t she?’
Gregory and Christopher both sighed. ‘Pru will do what she must to fit in, but I’m uneasy about Temper,’ Christopher said. ‘That’s one female who should have been born a man.’
Suppressing his body’s instinctive protest at that heresy, Gifford said, ‘I would love to see her on the floor of the house, ripping into the Tories who natter on about how disruptive to Caribbean commerce a slavery ban would be.’
‘She would be magnificent,’ Christopher agreed. ‘But since female suffrage is unlikely to occur in her lifetime, we had better be thinking of some other options. I don’t think she’s going to have much luck squeezing any money out of Vraux.’
Knowing how much tension existed between Christopher and the legal, if not biological, father who had ignored him all his life, Gifford said, ‘Probably not. But I’d love to be the parlour maid dusting outside the library door when she tries to talk him into letting her equip a caravan to journey to the pyramids!’
* * *
As it turned out, Christopher had left, but Gifford was just striding down the hallway towards the front door when Temper, with an exasperated expression, descended the stairs from the library that was Lord Vraux’s private domain.
‘I take it the response wasn’t positive.’
She let out a frustrated huff. ‘As I feared, he barely noticed I’d entered the room. You know how he is when he’s in the midst of cataloguing his latest acquisitions! I stationed myself right in front of him and waved my hands until he finally looked at me, with that little frown he has when he’s interrupted. In any event, he listened in silence and then motioned me away.’
Gifford knew from Gregory’s descriptions how averse the baron was to being touched. Still, it must hurt his children that their father seemed unable to give—or receive—any sign of affection.
‘Did he say...anything? Or just go back to cataloguing?’
She shook her head in disgust. ‘He said I needed to have a Season so I could “get married and be protected”. That women need to be protected. I couldn’t help myself—I had to ask if that was why he’d married Mama. But he didn’t respond, just returned his attention to the display table and picked up the next dagger.’ She blew out a breath. ‘Rather made me wish I could have picked up a dagger!’
Despite the baron’s staggering wealth, which meant Gregory had never, as Giff had when they were at school together, gone hungry or had to get his clothes patched instead of ordering new ones, Gifford had always felt sorry for the Lattimar children. Possessed of a mother who, though loving, had made herself such a byword that her daughters’ acceptance in society had been compromised, and a father who acted as if they didn’t exist.
‘I’m glad you didn’t grab a dagger,’ he said lightly, trying to ease her disappointment. ‘The news that you’d stabbed your father, coming on top of the scandal of the duel, would further complicate your debut.’
She gave a wry chuckle. ‘Thank you, Giff, for trying to cheer me up. I guess I shall be cursed with a Season after all. But I can’t bear thinking about it right now, so please don’t summon Gregory and call another strategy session just yet.’
She heaved another sigh. ‘I’d rather have a shot of Gregory’s brandy, but I’ll settle for tea. Won’t you take some with me?’ she asked, waving him back towards the parlour. ‘I haven’t had a chance to talk with you since you took up your seat in Parliament.’
When had he ever been able to turn her down? Curiosity over what she might say always lured him in—as it did now, despite his unease over the physical response she sparked in him. ‘I suppose I can spare a few more minutes.’
‘Giff, a serious, sober parliamentarian,’ she said in wondering tones as, after snagging a footman to send for tea, she led him back to the parlour. ‘That’s a notion that takes some getting used to! Wasn’t it just last year that seeing you at this time of the morning would have meant you and Gregory were returning from your night’s revels?’
Laughing, she gazed up at him, her glorious eyes teasing, her smiling mouth an invitation to dalliance. Sucking in a quick breath, he slammed his eyes shut. This is your friend’s little sister. You can’t let yourself think this way about her.
Maybe it would help if he didn’t look right at her. Or sit close enough to smell the subtle jasmine scent that surrounded her, whispering of sultry climes and sin.
Seating himself a safe distance away, he protested, ‘Not last year!’
‘Well, maybe the year before. Gregory was just turned five-and-twenty when he inadvertently discovered what a muddle the estate books at Entremer were in and decided the heir must sort things out, since Papa obviously had little interest in doing so.’
‘And you must admit, he’s done an admirable job.’
‘Who would have thought it? His most admirable achievement up to that point had been drinking three bottles of port in a night between entertaining three ladies. While in your company, as I remember, although he didn’t divulge your totals.’
‘How did you—?’ Giff sputtered, feeling his face heat.
Temperance chuckled. ‘Greg and Giff, what a pair, the two of you! When you staggered into our front hallway at eight in the morning, singing ribald songs, Gregory boasting of his prowess at the top of his lungs... In euphemisms, of course, but Pru and I knew very well what he was referring to.’
‘Sometimes you girls are too perceptive,’ Giff muttered.
‘If we learned at an early age about dealings virginal maidens should have no knowledge of, that wasn’t exactly our fault, was it?’ she argued, an edge in her voice.
The footman returned with the tea tray and, for a moment, conversation ceased while she poured. Once they both had a cup of the steaming brew, she continued, ‘I must say, I was rather surprised when Gregory told us you’d decided to stand for Parliament.’
‘Young men must sow their wild oats, I suppose, but eventually one must consider how one intends to make his mark on the world. Especially we younger sons, who can’t look forward to having an estate to run.’ Especially younger sons who’ve been virtually shut out by their family, all the attention of father and mother lavished on the son who would inherit,he added silently, feeling a familiar slash of pain at that stark reality.
‘Joining the Reform politicians is a choice I can admire! Are you finding the workings of Parliament as stimulating as you’d hoped?’
Gratification at her praise distracted him from both his pain and the smouldering anger her unfortunate situation so often sparked in him. Honest, direct and highly intelligent, Temper never flattered, and offered praise sparingly. Despite her youth, of all the females of his acquaintance, she was probably the one whose approval meant the most to him.
‘I have to admit, I was dubious when Gregory and Christopher first urged me, but...it is stimulating.’
‘You’ve found your calling, then.’
He smiled. ‘I think I have. To stand on the floor of the House and realise that what you do there, calling for an end to slavery or for restricting the employment of children in factories, will better the lives of thousands, here and across England’s possessions! It’s both humbling and thrilling. Even if change doesn’t go as far or happen as quickly as we’d like.’
‘Yes, Christopher tells me that it will be difficult enough to hammer through the right of all men to vote, that I shouldn’t look to see suffrage extended to women any time soon. Unless “women” are added as a class in the bill to end slavery,’ she quipped.
He laughed, as he knew she intended him to. ‘I’ll grant you that married women are...economically disadvantaged. Although their circumstances are not nearly as dire, men with no control over fortune are restricted, too.’
‘Your mama has been harassing you about money again?’
Surprised, he forgot his caution and looked at her. Luscious, lovely—and so perceptive. Looking quickly away, before her beauty could wind its seductive tendrils around his susceptible body, he quoted wryly, ‘“I thought a younger son debauching himself in the capital was expensive enough, but having one in Parliament has turned out to be even more costly”.’
‘Surely your mama realises you cannot sway the opinions of the brokers of power in a twice-turned coat and cracked boots. And from Christopher’s experience, I know even bachelor members of Parliament must sometimes play host to entertainments at the inns or clubs where so many of the compromises are hammered out.’
Damping down his embarrassment that Temper had noticed how shabby his attire had sometimes become, when his quarter-day allowance came late—or not at all—Giff said, ‘Quite true. Being a member of Lyndlington’s “Hadley’s Hellions” group, Christopher had the benefit of being included in the dinners Giles and Maggie gave. Alas, I have no such close connections to a political hostess.’
‘Which is why your mama keeps pestering you to marry one. Or at least a girl with money.’ His surprise must have shown on his face, for Temper said, ‘She’s bound to be wanting you to marry wealth—if only to remove the strain of your upkeep from the family purse. Although she may also want some grandchildren to dandle on her knee.’
Gifford tried to imagine such a picture and couldn’t. Mama might be interested in the heir’s children—but never his. ‘I doubt that. She’d rather be rid of my expense so she can hang new reticules on her wrist and put more expensive gowns on her back!’
‘I may occasionally be angry with Mama, but at least I know, infamous as she is, she loves us.’
Lady Vraux might be a fond mama, but the scandalous behaviour of her earlier years had caused irrevocable harm to her daughters. Gifford had trouble forgiving her for that sin.
‘Even if I’m plagued with a Season,’ Temper had continued, ‘it’s unlikely I’ll become bosom friends with any pure young maidens. Watchful mamas will probably warn their girls to avoid me like a medieval scourge, lest a daughter’s reputation become contaminated by mine. Are there any rich young ladies who have caught your eye?’
‘Since, despite Mama’s continual urging, I’m not yet ready to make the plunge into matrimony, I avoid gatherings where females of that ilk may be lurking.’ He laughed. ‘Not that I would be accounted a prime catch by any means.’
‘Oh, I don’t know! You’re handsome, intelligent, well spoken, principled and from an excellent old family. All you lack is fortune and, for a girl with a large dowry, that would hardly be an impediment. If you’re not ready to marry, you’re probably wise to avoid places where some determined young miss might try to entrap you.’ She grinned. ‘Besides, though you may not be as...flagrant about your pursuits as in years past, I know for certain that when it comes to feminine company, you and Gregory still prefer ladies of easy virtue.’
‘You really do have no maidenly modesty, do you?’ he asked, half-amused, half-exasperated by her plain speaking.
‘Growing up in this household? I would have to be blind and dumb to have attained my advanced age still retaining any. So, no gently born young ladies of interest at the moment. Should you like me to be on the lookout for likely prospects, if I manage to get invited to entertainments where virtuous young maidens gather?’
‘Are you going to join my mother in haranguing? Not very sporting, when you profess yourself so opposed to marriage.’
‘Not haranguing and our cases are quite different. As long as I can convince Papa to allow me some wealth of my own, marriage offers me no advantages. Whereas, for you, gaining a wealthy bride whose funds would free you from depending on the pittance your family grudgingly doles out would make your job in Parliament easier. Obtaining a hostess like Maggie, who is intelligent, charming and interested in politics, would be even more beneficial.’
The wives of Christopher and his friends were admirable, the couples did seem happy in their unions, and everything she said about ending his money worries and having a capable hostess was true. ‘Perhaps,’ he admitted. ‘But I’m not ready to acquire the advantages of marriage yet.’
‘Not ready to give up your ladies, you mean.’
‘Let’s return to your situation,’ he said, having heard enough remarks about his predilection for the muslin company. ‘I meant what I said about asking Lady Sayleford if she would sponsor you. She’s truly as redoubtable as her reputation claims. If you must have a Season to bring your father around, she would be the best candidate to sponsor you. Anything I can do to help, you know I will, Temper.’
The amusement fled from her face, replaced by a sad little smile that touched his heart. ‘I know, Giff. You’ve been good friend to all of us for as long as I can remember and I do thank you for it,’ she said, reaching over to pat his hand.
It was meant to be a casual, friendly gesture. But her light touch resonated through his body with the impact of a passionate kiss. And produced the same result.
He froze, fighting the reaction. Unfortunately, Temper stilled as well, staring at her hand resting on his, her expression startled and uncertain.
And then, rosy colour suffusing her face, she snatched her hand back. ‘Yes, ah, that would be, um, quite... I mean, if I must have a Season, I would appreciate your approaching Lady Sayleford.’
Her voice sounded as odd as her disjointed words. Which must mean that the touch that paralysed him had affected her, too. He wasn’t sure whether to be satisfied or alarmed by the fact.
Maybe it was time to leave, before the randy part of him urged him to further explore that intriguing possibility. Setting down his teacup with a clatter, he said, ‘I must be off. Shall I call on my godmother and see what I can arrange?’
If the moment had been as intense for her, it had passed, for the look she angled up at him was all laughing, mischievous child again. ‘Yes, I suppose you must. Imagine—Temperance Lattimar gowned in white, making her debut among the virtuous maidens! That would set the cat among the pigeons, don’t you think?’
‘It should certainly be...interesting,’ he allowed. ‘I’ll call again later after I’ve had a chance to chat with her. Thank you for tea and goodbye, Temper.’
‘Goodbye, Giff.’ She held out her hand to shake goodbye—as they had countless times before—and must have thought better of it, for she hastily retracted it. Not that he would have been foolish enough, after his disturbingly strong reaction to her previous touch, to offer her his hand.
No matter how much he’d like to touch that...and more.
Irritated by the simmer of attraction he was having such a hard time suppressing, Gifford strode out of the room. Trotting down the entry steps of Vraux House after the butler closed the door behind him, he blew out a breath.
He’d been sincere when he assured Temperance that he’d do whatever he could to help her. He truly wanted the best for her. But the attraction she exerted on him seemed to only be growing and doing this service meant he’d likely be seeing her more often than the occasional meeting when he dropped by to visit Gregory.
The prospect of seeing more of Temperance Lattimar was both alluring...and alarming.

Chapter Three (#u99a27dcf-481b-5ead-8d49-e037598bf7bf)
After watching Gifford Newell walk out, Temperance sat back on the sofa and poured herself another cup of tea.
Was she wise to let Giff help her? All she’d done was pat his hand and—oh, my! The bolt of attraction was so strong she’d been immobilised by it. So much that she forgot where she was and what she was doing, her brain wiped free of every thought except the wonder of what it might feel like to kiss him.
She didn’t seem to be doing a very good job of ignoring the attraction. Perhaps she ought to regretfully acknowledge that a complication had arisen in what had previously been a carefree, straightforward friendship, and be on guard against it.
The last thing she should do was allow curiosity to lure her into exploring where those impulses might lead.
And then she had to laugh. It was highly unlikely that handsome, commanding, virile Gifford Newell, who probably had never seen her as anything but his best friend’s troublesome little sister, would be interested in pursuing such feelings with her—even though she was quite certain he had felt the explosive force of that touch.Not when he already had long-standing and mutually satisfactory relations with ladies far more practised and alluring than she was.
Which was just as well. It would be unfair to invite him down a pathway she already knew she could never follow to its ultimate end. The mere thought of what that would entail sent a shudder of distaste through her.
Still, despite the uncomfortable, edgy feelings he roused in her, she enjoyed his company and counted him as one of the few people whose honesty and dependability she could count on. Though in the past he’d often exasperated her with his teasing, as she grew older, he’d begun to listen to her with an appreciation and understanding exceeded only by her sister’s. She simply refused to give in and let this...irrational attraction she didn’t seem able to suppress spoil a friendship she valued so dearly.
If she were forced to have a Season—and she didn’t see how she was going to avoid it, however unpleasant the prospect—she really would prefer to get it over with. She’d vowed, when she turned fifteen and first discovered the implications of her close resemblance to her mother, never to let anyone see how much the censure and unearned criticism hurt. No, she intended to meet society’s scorn with a public show of defiance—and weather it privately with fortitude. Though occasionally—if anger got the better of her, which it well might—she might be goaded into doing something truly outrageous, just to live down to society’s expectations of her.
The delight of doing that wouldn’t make enduring the rest of the ordeal any less unpleasant.
It really would be helpful to have Lady Sayleford guarding her back. Assuming, after meeting her and listening to Temper’s frank avowal of how she intended to behave, that lady was willing to take her on.
Doing so, though, would mean having Gifford Newell act as her intermediary.
It wouldn’t necessarily mean they’d see each other much more often than they did now, aside from the initial interview with Lady Sayleford, she reasoned. He’d just emphatically reaffirmed what she already knew—that, as he wasn’t ready to take a wife, he had no intention of frequenting the sort of Marriage Mart entertainments she would be forced to endure. He would simply turn her over to his godmother and go back to his own pursuits.
She couldn’t suppress a little sigh of regret. Despite the recent complication in their relationship, she knew with Gifford nearby, she would be safe—protected from the worst of the insults and scorn of those who disapproved of her and from any men who might seek to take advantage. And she truly would enjoy witnessing his reaction to all the Marriage Mart manoeuvring.
But since it was highly unlikely he would attend any of the entertainments she would be dragged to, she’d better work up the courage to face all those threats alone. After all, when Pru married, as she certainly would—what intelligent man could resist her darling sister?—Temper truly would be alone. Permanently.
For the first time, Temper faced that bleak prospect, not as some distant spectre, but as an event that would likely happen soon. She had to put a hand to her stomach to still the wave of bleakness and dismay that swept through her.
Wasn’t gaining her independence what she wanted, though? She tried to rally herself. She’d still have Gregory and Christopher, Gifford’s special friendship and could look forward to playing the proud aunt to Pru’s eventual children. Doubtless somewhere in her family tree she could find some indigent female relation who would prove both congenial and willing to live with her.
As an independent woman, she’d be able to attend the lectures that interested her, visit the shops and galleries, and—her greatest ambition—work towards equipping herself to travel to the fascinating foreign places she’d read so much about. Foreign places where she could immerse herself in history and culture while she sought out treasures for her father. Where she could be herself, free of the stifling restrictions society imposed over women of her class. And, most important, having escaped the threating spectre of marriage, she might even manage some day to free herself from the dark shadows of her past.
All she need do to attain those goals was make it through one Season.
* * *
After ringing for the footman to collect the tea tray, she’d been about to go upstairs when a commotion at the front door announced the arrival of Aunt Gussie.
‘Darling Temperance!’ Lady Stoneway cried, handing her cloak over to a footman and coming over to hug her. ‘How lovely you look!’
‘You are looking in fine fettle, too, Aunt Gussie! The prospect of a sojourn in Bath obviously agrees with you.’
‘I am looking forward to it,’ her aunt allowed, joining Temperance to mount the stairs. ‘Are you sure you won’t come with us? Pru is going to miss your company—and your support—so very much! And I will, too.’
Dismissing a pang of longing, Temperance said firmly, ‘No, I shall stay here. Not that I’m not grateful for your offer, but...I simply won’t turn tail and flee, just because some idiots created a scandal that was not in any way Mama’s fault.’ Nor am I interested in going where I might encounter a gentleman admirable enough that you and Pru would try to persuade me to marry him.
Her aunt sighed. ‘It is unfair, I admit. To your mama, as well as to you and Pru. But truly, my dear, in Bath we will have a fair chance of avoiding most of the scandal, finally allowing the two of you an opportunity to be courted, find a worthy gentleman to marry and settle down happily in your own households!’
‘That’s Pru’s hope, not mine,’ Temper reminded her aunt.
Lady Stoneway shook her head. ‘Still dreaming of travel to some faraway place? I thought you would outgrow that foolish wish.’
‘I haven’t, for all that the wish might be foolish. However, though I couldn’t convince Papa to allow me my dowry without having a Season, perhaps after it turns disastrous and he realises marriage to anyone save a fortune-hunting scoundrel is impossible, he will relent.’ For I’m highly unlikely, Papa, to encounter a true gentleman who wants to ‘protect’ me. Not if he knew the whole truth...
‘I’m not at all convinced it need be disastrous,’ Lady Stoneway protested. ‘So, you’re going to wait for London next year after all?’
‘Oh, no. As I told you when the scandal first broke, if I must debut, I intend to do so here, in London, just as we planned.’
Lady Stoneway stopped short, turning to look at Temper in astonishment. ‘You intend to attempt a Season this year? In London?’
‘Yes—if I can find a sponsor. But you mustn’t even think of changing your plans! Pru is eager to marry and I fully agree her chances of finding a respectable partner will be far better in Bath. Whereas, since I don’t wish to marry, it makes no difference to me that having a London Season now will likely produce...disappointing results. In fact, if it’s truly bad, I might be able to convince Papa to let me abandon the effort after a month or so. But please, no more talk of that now. I haven’t told Pru—she might feel obligated to change her plans and stay here to support me, which is the very last thing I want. She’s been waiting so long for the kind husband and happy family she’s always dreamed of! I don’t want to delay her finding that even a day longer.’
‘But who will sponsor you—?’ her aunt began, before, at Temper’s warning look, she cut the sentence short as Prudence ran out into the hallway to meet them.
‘Welcome, Aunt Gussie! I’m all packed, so we may to leave as soon as you’ve rested and refreshed yourself.’
Giving Temperance a speaking glance, Lady Stoneway said, ‘Ring for some tea and after that, I’ll be ready. I’ve already instructed Overton to send some footmen up to collect your trunks. I suppose I should look in on my brother—though if he’s in one of his collecting moods, he may not notice I’m in the room.’
‘You could stop by, but he just got a new shipment of weapons and is fully engaged in cataloguing them,’ Temper warned.
Lady Stoneway shook her head. ‘I won’t bother, then. Shall we have tea with your mother?’
Her smile fading, Pru shook her head. ‘Knowing you would arrive at any moment, I’ve already bid her goodbye. Let’s have tea in my room.’
‘I’ll fetch Gregory,’ Temper said. ‘We can have a pleasant family coze before you two head on your way.’
‘I should like that!’ Prudence said, coming over to link her arm with Temper’s. ‘I am going to miss you very much, dear sister.’
‘And I, you,’ Temper acknowledged with another pang. Especially since, after your sojourn in Bath, I shall probably lose for ever my best and closest friend. Shaking off that melancholy thought, she said, ‘But how exciting, to send you off into the future! I hope this Season will end with you finding the man of your dreams.’
‘I second that happy wish—for you both,’ Lady Stoneway said, giving Temper a pointed glance as she ushered both girls into their bedchamber.
* * *
An hour later, after bidding the travellers goodbye, Temper walked back upstairs. Already the house seemed echoing and empty, now that the serene, optimistic spirit of her sister had left it.
Needing to stave off those unhappy thoughts, she decided to look in on her mama, who, she suspected, might be feeling a bit low. With a loyal maid who kept her appraised of everything happening in the household, she could not help but know that her precious daughter Pru, about to leave her house, most likely never to live in it again, had declined to invite her to her farewell tea.
Temperance could understand her sister’s bitterness towards the mother whose profligate behaviour had spilled over to poison their lives. But she also understood how a woman’s mere appearance led to assumptions, attack and uninvited abuse.
And knowing her papa, she could completely understand why a woman as vivacious, outgoing and passionate as her mother, denied affection and even basic interaction with her husband, would in desperation have sought it elsewhere.
After knocking lightly on the door, she walked in—to find her mama lounging on her sofa by the window, draped in one of her favourite diaphanous, lace-trimmed negligées. Temper had never seen the inside of a bordello, but she couldn’t imagine even the loveliest denizen of such a place looking more beautiful and seductive than her mother.
Smiling at the picture Lady Vraux presented, she walked over to drop a kiss on that artful arrangement of blonde curls.
‘Temperance!’ her mother said in surprise, delight on her face as she turned from the window and saw her daughter—but not before Temper noticed the bleak expression the smile had chased away. ‘I’d call for tea, but I expect by now you’re awash in it. The travellers are off, I imagine.’
So she did know she’d been excluded, Temper thought with a wave of sympathy for her mama. Pru’s resentment might be justly earned—but that wouldn’t make the estrangement any less bitter for a mother who, Temper knew, truly loved her children.
‘Gussie couldn’t talk you into going with them?’ Lady Vraux asked as she patted the sofa, inviting Temper to take a seat beside her.
Temper gave a dramatic shudder. ‘To Bath? To drink the vile waters and be ogled by old men? I think not.’
‘So what do you intend? I very much doubt Vraux will release your dowry. Christopher, then Gregory, stopped by to visit this morning and told me you intended to approach him.’
‘I did and you are right. He won’t release it to me.’
Lady Vraux rubbed Temper’s hand. ‘I’m sorry, my darling. If I had any money of my own, you’d be welcome to it.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Unfortunately, I never had a feather to fly with, which is how I ended up married to Vraux in the first place.’
Her mother’s family had been noble but penniless, Temper knew. The wealthy Lord Vraux’s offer to settle the Portmans’ debts in exchange for their Incomparable daughter’s hand had been a bargain they would not let her refuse. No matter how cold, impersonal and unapproachable the character of the baron who’d made the offer.
‘So you’ll go forward with a Season?’ Concern, regret and sadness succeeded the smile on her face. ‘I would advise against it, my sweet. Not this year. Gussie is quite right in assessing your chances of success to be minimal after the Farnham-Hallsworthy fiasco.’
Dropping Temper’s hand, she turned away. ‘I... I am sorry about that. You do know I did nothing to encourage them! I haven’t taken a new lover for more than five years, just as I promised. And I was hopeful that Gussie, with her standing and influence, could smooth a path for the two of you despite...despite your unfortunate parentage.’
Temper gathered her mother’s hand again. ‘I know, Mama. I don’t blame you for the idiocy of men.’
‘Pru does, though.’
Temper was trying to find some palliative for that unfortunate truth when her mother continued, ‘I’ve earned whatever infamy I bear, and as Miss Austen’s Mary observes, “the loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable”. But I hate that it continues to reflect upon you.’
‘It doesn’t matter for me. Unlike Pru, I have no desire to wed. But if Papa will not allow me to do anything else until I’ve had a Season, then I intend to get it over with. I expect it will be a noteworthy failure—indeed, I hope it is, the better to convince him a good marriage is impossible and get him to release my dowry.’
‘There’s no guarantee he will do so, even if your Season is unsuccessful,’ her mother pointed out.
That was the one great flaw in her plan, she had to admit. ‘True. But if I tell him I intend to journey to whatever place offers the treasure he is currently most interested in acquiring, so I may procure for him exactly what he wants, I might persuade him. You know he thinks of nothing but obtaining the latest object that catches his fancy.’
‘That true enough,’ Lady Vraux acknowledged. ‘Coming at it from that direction, I suppose there is a chance you might persuade him.’ After hesitating a moment, she said, ‘Are you so sure you don’t want to marry? Not to be indelicate, but you’re not getting any younger, darling. When I was your age, Gregory was four, Christopher two, and I was enceinte with you! I know your father and I have hardly offered an encouraging example of the estate, but Christopher and Ellie seem happy enough, so you must see that contentment in marriage is possible. And marriage would offer you children. That is a joy I’d hate to see you deny yourself.’
For a moment, Temper was tempted to blurt out the dreadful truth she’d hidden from everyone for so long. But since revealing it would probably wound her mother more than it would bring Temper comfort, she bit back the words.
‘I’ll have Pru’s brats to love,’ she said instead. ‘You know I’ve read every travel journal I could find since I was a girl! Travelling to exotic places—and finding treasures to bring back for Papa—is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. A dream of which a husband is unlikely to approve. And once he got his greedy hands on my dowry, a dream I would no longer have the funds to pursue.’
‘That is likely true. A lady with funds of her own to do what she wishes? I can’t even imagine it.’
‘Well, I can and I like the image very much. So, yes, I’ll remain in London, debut if I can find a sponsor and brazen it out.’
‘Gregory said that Gifford Newell offered to approach his godmother, Lady Sayleford, on your behalf. A formidable lady!’ Lady Vraux shook her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘The Dowager Countess’s position is so unassailable, she even invites me to her entertainments. Then makes a point of ensuring all the disapproving society matrons see her chatting with me. She just might enjoy sticking her thumb in society’s eye by sponsoring you. And under her care, you would be protected from the...disdain which I fear you might otherwise suffer.’
Temper wasn’t about to increase her mother’s worry by confessing she expected to meet with a lot of disdain, regardless of who sponsored her. She was too angry that, despite six years of impeccable behaviour where gentlemen were concerned, there was neither forgiveness nor tolerance for her mother. Whereas she knew for certain that a number of noble men conducted affairs in full view of their wives and suffered no social consequences whatsoever.
‘If Newell does secure you her sponsorship,’ her mother continued, ‘I shall be very pleased to see you immersed in all the activities of the Season. You needn’t worry that I’ll feel neglected. I have Ellie and my friends. And who knows what might happen? I will pray for your happiness and success.’
‘Then you will be praying for me to journey to exotic places!’
Lady Vraux tapped Temper’s cheek, her smile bittersweet. ‘There is no journey so exotic and unexpected as a journey of the heart.’
If that journey led to marriage, it was one she could never dare take, Temper thought sadly. But before she could become mired in melancholy, her mama said, ‘If you do embark on a Season, let me give you one more piece of advice. Never show fear or weakness, or your enemies will fall on you like rabid dogs. It’s better to be scorned than pitied.’
Rising, Temper leaned down to kiss her mama’s cheek. ‘That’s a piece of advice I can embrace wholeheartedly!’ After crossing the room, she stopped in the doorway to look back at her mother. ‘Whatever society says or thinks, I am proud to be your daughter, Mama.’
Lady Vraux took a shuddering breath, tears glistening at the ends of her improbably long lashes. ‘Your loyalty is precious, if ill advised. I would wish you to end your Season with more success than I did.’
‘If I end it with the prospect of travel to foreign places, I shall be satisfied indeed.’ Blowing her mother a kiss, determined to move towards the future she wanted, Temper walked out.

Chapter Four (#u99a27dcf-481b-5ead-8d49-e037598bf7bf)
Four days later, Lady Sayleford’s butler ushered Gifford Newell and Temperance Lattimar into the Great Parlour of the Dowager Countess’s imposing Grosvenor Square mansion. ‘I’ll tell the Countess you have arrived,’ he intoned before bowing himself out.
‘What a lovely room,’ Temperance said, looking around the chamber, its delicate plaster decoration done up in pastel shades. ‘Pure Robert Adams, isn’t it?’
Was she remarking about decor to conceal her nervousness? Gifford wondered. He’d discovered an intriguing new side to Temperance Lattimar during their drive here this afternoon—that instead of behaving with her usual blunt exuberance, when she wished to, she could conceal her thoughts and feelings behind an impenetrable façade. Ever since he’d arrived at Vraux House to escort her to this interview, she’d been calm, composed—and for the first time since he’d known her, utterly unreadable.
‘It is Adams,’ he confirmed. ‘Lady Sayleford was one of his first sponsors, engaging him to redecorate the public rooms of Sayleford House when she was just a young bride.’
‘The symmetry, balance and delicacy of the mouldings are beautiful,’ Temperance said. ‘I’m so glad she didn’t decide to change it out for the new Egyptian style.’
‘Not a fan of crocodile legs and zebrawood carving?’
‘Not unless I’m encountering them on the Nile!’
‘Are you truly interested in furnishings and such?’ he asked curiously. ‘I never knew.’
‘Of course I’m interested in furnishings—and architecture and sculpture and painting!’ she retorted, giving him a look that questioned his intelligence. ‘Why else would I be so interested in travelling to foreign places—or knowledgeable enough to promise Papa I could search out the treasures he seeks? It’s not just the changing landscape abroad that fascinates. Just as interesting are the arts and artefacts that reveal so much about culture and character.’
‘Little Temper—the scholar?’ he teased.
‘She certainly will be—once she has the chance,’ she shot back. ‘Since employment in the Foreign Office or in Parliament is currently denied her.’
Gifford was chuckling at that as she continued, ‘Before the Countess arrives, let me thank you once again for arranging the interview. And let me apologise in advance, if my behaviour embarrasses you.’
Puzzled, he tilted his head at her. ‘Why would it embarrass me?’
‘Because, if I do have a Season, I must warn her I have no intention of behaving like a modest, accommodating young miss eager to attract a husband. I’m more interested in discouraging suitors, so I may get through the Season and go my own way.’
Before he could respond to that, Harris returned to announce the Dowager Countess. Gifford and Temperance rose, the ladies exchanging curtsies while he bowed.
‘Gifford, you rascal,’ Lady Sayleford said as he came over to kiss her cheek. ‘It’s a sad thing when it takes an errand on behalf of a chit of a girl to get you to visit your poor godmother.’
‘I admit it, I have been remiss,’ he said. ‘Parliament is busy.’
‘I’m sure,’ she murmured. ‘Leaves only enough time to visit the doxies you favour—in company with this young lady’s brother, I understand.’
To his chagrin, Temperance choked back a giggle. ‘You are just as well informed as Gifford promised, Countess.’
‘So what is it you wish me to do for you, young lady?’
‘It’s rather what, if anything, you wish to do, Lady Sayleford. To be honest, I wouldn’t have approached you at all, had Gifford not insisted. Being well informed, I’m sure you know about the latest scandal involving my mother.’
‘Farnham and Hallsworthy,’ the Countess said. ‘Idiots.’
‘Exactly,’ Temperance agreed, her glorious smile breaking out. ‘As you probably also know, my aunt, Lady Stoneway, has chosen not to present my sister and me in London this Season as planned and has taken Prudence to Bath instead.’
‘And why you did not wish to accompany them?’
Gifford winced. Trust his godmother to dispense with the standard politenesses and probe directly to the point.
‘Unlike my sister, I don’t wish to marry, so there was no reason to accompany them to a place which would improve my chances of contracting a match. However, since Lord Vraux insists I must have a presentation, I’d rather follow our original plan and debut here, this Season. Once that’s over, I hope to persuade him to release some funds so that I may do what I truly want to do.’
‘Go exploring foreign places, like Lady Hester Stanhope? You really think you could persuade Vraux to fund that, simply because you fail to marry after your first Season?’
‘It will be difficult, I grant. But if I can show him that no respectable gentleman will offer for me and vow to dedicate my explorations to tracking down whatever he’s currently seeking, I might succeed. He’s only ever been interested in things, after all.’
‘Too sadly true. So, with Lady Stoneway off to Bath, you need a sponsor. Someone whose standing in society will make up for your mother’s lack of it?’
Wincing at the remark, Giff braced himself for the furious defence of Lady Vraux that would likely spell an abrupt end to this interview. Instead, to his surprise, Temperance...smiled.
Granted, the smile was thin and he could almost see her head steaming from the fury she was holding in, but—hold it in she did.
Another revelation! Apparently, Temperance Lattimar could not only mask her feelings, she could withstand being goaded—which he was sure his godmother was doing deliberately, to see what sort of response Miss Lattimar could be prodded into producing.
She was certainly angry, for though her tone remained pleasant, the gaze she fixed on Lady Sayleford was frigid. ‘I’m sure I could turn up among my relations a matron more respectable than Mama to sponsor me. However, since only a woman of unbounded influence could force enough of society to receive a daughter of the infamous Lady Vraux that my father would consider my presentation adequate, I agreed to let Mr Newell approach you. Since sponsoring a daughter of the infamous Lady Vraux is likely to be thought poor judgement on the part of anyone foolish enough to attempt the task, it would be wise of you to steer clear of me. And now, I expect we have taken up enough of your valuable time.’
As Giff drew in a sharp breath, she started to rise—only to check as the Dowager Countess held out a hand. ‘Please, sit, my dear,’ she said in pleasant tones, as if Temperance’s reply hadn’t been a defiant rebuttal, however obliquely delivered. ‘We haven’t yet had our tea.’
As she spoke, the butler walked in with the tray, placing it on the table and pouring for them. Temperance sat in such absolute stillness, then took her cup with such measured precision, Giff had the vision of some wild beast from the Royal Menagerie immobilised by chains. How long could she restrain that anger? And would he be the unlucky victim of that storm when it did break?
After setting down her own cup, Lady Sayleford said, ‘So, you think I should “steer clear of you”, Miss Lattimar? Do you truly think I am in the habit of being guided by chits of two-and-twenty with no experience of the world and nothing but an outrageous reputation to boast of?’
Temperance’s face paled and Giff felt his own anger rise. He’d brought Temper here to ask for help—not to have his imperious godmother subject her to the sort of set-down that had reduced matrons twice her age to tears.
Before Giff could intervene, Temperance set down her cup—and burst out laughing. ‘Goodness, no, Countess!’ she said when she’d controlled her mirth. ‘I sincerely doubt you’ve ever been guided by anyone.’
Lady Sayleford smiled, as if Temper had passed some sort of test. Which, Giff supposed she just had—neither wilting under the Countess’s pointed questioning, nor flying into a tantrum.
‘You don’t seem inclined to be guided, either,’ the Countess observed. ‘Certainly not by Lady Stoneway, who you must admit has only your best interests at heart.’
Temperance’s amusement vanished as quickly as it had arisen. ‘I do know that. But Mama has been treated outrageously for years. By Papa. By society. Lately, for things that are not at all her fault. I don’t intend to hide away and act as if I believe they were.’
Lady Sayleford nodded. ‘Your loyalty to your mother is admirable and, as you may know, I value family loyalty highly. But you must admit that your mother was very foolish when she was younger and society is not forgiving.’
‘Not of a woman,’ Temperance said acerbically. ‘Especially not one who is beautiful, charming and a magnet for the attention of every gentleman in the room.’
‘They are much quicker to exile a Beauty than a wallflower, aren’t they?’ the Countess replied drily. ‘I believe you do have enough backbone to last a Season. So, let me see... Vraux has pots of money. Angela, a niece of my late husband’s, is a widow living in straitened circumstances, her son in the Royal Navy, her daughter married to some country nobody. To enjoy a Season in London, she would probably agree to serve as your chaperon. If your father will see her properly clothed and pay her expenses, I shall send for her.’
‘Before you offer to help me, I must warn you that, even backed by your approval, I expect to meet with a considerable amount of disapproval. If goaded, I might be...irresistibly tempted to do something outrageous, just to live down to society’s expectations. Which, of course, would further my goal of discouraging suitors.’
‘It might encourage the unscrupulous, though. You’re too intelligent to do anything stupid, I hope—something that might place you in actual danger. Men can be dangerous, especially to women they think invite their attentions. Sadly, my dear, with your looks and reputation, it wouldn’t take much for them to make that assumption.’
Was it only his imagination, Giff wondered, or did Temperance once again turn pale? But then she shook her head, colour returning to her cheeks.
‘I don’t intend to encourage any man and I certainly wouldn’t agree to meet one alone, if that’s what you are warning against. If provoked, I might feel compelled to best some smirking gentleman in a race through Hyde Park—in front of a full complement of witnesses. Or I might accept a dare to drive a curricle down St James’s Street past the gentlemen’s clubs,’ she added, chuckling when Giff groaned.
‘You are indeed your mama,’ Lady Sayleford said, her eyes lighting with amusement. ‘But wiser and forewarned. I do hope, though,’ she added, sobering, ‘that you end up happier than she did.’
After a moment of silence, as if she were weighing whether or not to speak, Temperance said, ‘She...she loved Christopher’s father, didn’t she? Sir Julian Cantrell? I’ve never asked her, not wanting to dredge up sad memories, and everyone else puts me off. I overheard Aunt Gussie telling Gregory that Sir Julian was the love of her life. That he loved her, too, enough that he was prepared to be shunned by society for marrying a divorced woman, only Papa refused to divorce her. I’m sure you know the truth. Won’t you tell me?’
Lady Sayleford remained silent as well, so long that Giff thought she would refuse to answer. Finally, she said, ‘I don’t agree that it does a girl any good to have the truth withheld from her. It’s not as if, growing up a member of the Vraux Miscellany, you have any maidenly innocence to protect!’
‘That’s true,’ Temperance agreed with a wry grimace. ‘So—you will tell me?’
Lady Sayleford sighed. ‘After Vraux refused Felicia the divorce she pleaded for, I half-expected she and Cantrell would run away to America. But she loved Gregory and knew, if she fled, she would never see her firstborn again. She gave up Sir Julian instead. It nearly broke him, especially after he discovered she was carrying his child. By the way, I’m glad he was later able to reconcile with Christopher; a man should have a relationship with his own son, even if he can’t claim the boy outright. It was only after Felicia lost Sir Julian that, once very circumspect, she became...careless of her reputation. She must have been devastated, else she would never have been taken in by your father.’
‘Marsden Hightower?’
‘Marsden Hightower,’ Lady Sayleford confirmed with a curl of her lip. ‘Rich, handsome, charming—and a cad of the highest order. He boasted of his conquest all over town, let slip lurid details of the rendezvous he persuaded her into—meeting him in some hostess’s boudoir in the midst of ball, or in the shrubbery at some garden party! Details too deliciously scandalous not to become the talk of society—or to thoroughly offend the hostesses at whose events the purported dalliances had taken place. She was never forgiven—not that, being Felicia, she ever expressed remorse.’
‘She would have confronted the rumours with her lips sealed and her head held high.’
Lady Sayleford nodded. ‘And so she did. Despite the reputation she acquired, she never took a married man for a lover and she had countless opportunities to do so. A distinction I recognise and appreciate, even if many of society’s harpies do not.’
‘Is that why you still receive her, when most of the high sticklers will not?’
‘I admire honour, as I admire courage. Especially honour and courage maintained when one is given no credit for possessing them.’
‘Thank you for telling me the whole truth.’
Giff sat in shocked silence. He’d always accepted what rumour said about Lady Vraux, disdaining her as a selfish Beauty who took lovers to gratify her vanity with no thought to the harm her conduct would do her family. When Temperance told him his godmother invited the scandalous Lady Vraux to her home, he’d assumed the Countess did so on a whim, to demonstrate her mastery over society.
After hearing the truth, he realised with some chagrin that he, who prided himself on treating people as he found them rather than believing what rumour whispered, had done exactly that with Lady Vraux. He had to admit a grudging admiration for her courage—and for the courage of the daughter who had always believed in and passionately defended her.
Lady Sayleford gave Temperance a regretful look. ‘Unfortunately, knowing the true origin of your mother’s reputation doesn’t change your present circumstances, my child.’
‘No. But it does confirm what I’ve always known—that Mama is not the amoral, self-indulgent voluptuary society accuses her of being. But then, of what value to society is truth? It will believe what it wants, regardless.’
Lady Sayleford nodded. ‘If you know that, you are well armed to begin a Season. I shall enjoy hearing about your escapades.’
Giff was smiling—until the meaning of that sentence penetrated. ‘Hearing about them?’ he repeated. ‘Won’t you be accompanying her to social events?’
‘To every frippery Marriage Mart entertainment that attracts silly young girls and nodcock young gents on the lookout for rich brides? Certainly not! I shall accept only those invitations that interest me, just as I do now. But I will introduce Miss Lattimar before I turn her over to Angela and make sure it’s known that I will be watching to see how each member of society receives her.’
‘Very well, I’m reassured,’ Giff said, relaxing a bit.
‘Besides, it’s not me she needs to watch over her. In order to be truly protected, she’ll need a gentleman standing guard. You, Gifford.’
Looking as alarmed as he felt, Temperance said, ‘Lady Sayleford, is that truly necessary? Surely having a chaperon by my side every minute will afford sufficient protection! I never meant to embroil Giff in a social round he surely doesn’t want—’
‘Don’t be argumentative, child,’ Lady Sayleford said, cutting her off. ‘It won’t hurt Gifford to attend a few society functions. How else is he to find the rich bride a rising politician needs? Cyprians are well and good for pleasuring-seeking, but a career in government requires adequate funds and a suitable hostess.’
Her remarks were, of course, spot on, but that didn’t mean Giff appreciated them—especially not in front of Temperance, who had recently preached from the same sermon. Feeling colour warming his face, he said, ‘Thank you for the advice. But I’m not prepared to act upon it just yet, so don’t be getting any ideas.’
Lady Sayleford smiled. ‘What else has an old woman to do, but get ideas? My dear,’ she continued, turning back to Temperance, ‘do you think your father will agree to have Angela chaperon you?’
‘If you approve of her, I don’t see why he would object.’
‘Just to make sure, I’ll pen him a note. Tell him I’m grateful he’s sparing my old bones as your sponsor by allowing my great-niece to act in my place. Vraux does like to keep things safe, even if he can’t...care for them like normal folk. In any event, I’ll sweeten the agreement by sending him a medieval mantelpiece Sayleford once outbid him for.’
‘Oh, no, ma’am!’ Temperance protested. ‘I wouldn’t want you to part with one of your husband’s treasures!’
‘Nonsense! I’ve been trying to dispose of the hideous thing for years. What better use to make of it than to dispatch it to someone who might actually appreciate it?’
Temperance laughed. ‘My mother’s reputation might be based on falsehoods, but yours is not. You are wise, as well as all-knowing!’
‘There must be some benefit to growing old, other than the ability to interfere in other people’s lives with impunity. But since I’m so wise, let me offer you one more bit of advice. Don’t be blind, fixing yourself so narrowly on a single goal that you fail to see the alternatives that present themselves. As they always will. Now, I shall consult my calendar, but I think next week will do for an introductory tea. That will give me enough time to summon Angela. So drink up, Gifford. You’ve accomplished your purpose and it is time for me to rest.’
With that, they finished their tea, then stood as his godmother made her majestic departure.
Standing in the hall while the butler summoned their carriage, Temperance said, ‘Lady Sayleford is amazing! I’d like to be her one day.’ Then she shook her head, her expression rueful. ‘But then, I’d have to be respectable to begin with.’
‘You are less of a hoyden than you used to be,’ Giff observed. ‘I thought you displayed remarkable restraint today. I was initially afraid you might attack with nails and fists when she insulted your mother.’
‘She was taking my measure, I think. And I’m not as thoughtless and impulsive as you seem to believe. At least, not all the time. For instance, I intend to keep my chaperon close by whenever there are gentlemen about, so I really don’t think you need to attend social events to watch out for me. You’d probably be bored to flinders and hate every minute of it.’
‘I hope to sidestep that fate—not because it would bore me, but I would rather avoid eligible young ladies for a while longer, despite my godmother’s forceful advice.’
Conversation halted as, his tiger having brought his curricle to the entrance, they exited the house and mounted the carriage.
‘If I thought you were going to be compelled to supervise me, I would never have asked for Lady Sayleford’s sponsorship,’ Temper continued after he’d set the horses moving.
Giff shook his head. ‘Too late to withdraw now! If I know my godmother, by the time we reach Vraux House she will already have written to summon her great-niece.’
‘I shall be happy enough to proceed, as long as we can convince her not to drag you into the bargain. No point going to market when you aren’t ready to buy anything.’ She sighed. ‘I only wish I didn’t have to spend time in the Marriage Mart, but since I must, I’ll cheer myself with the hope that it might not be for long. With any luck, it will soon be evident that I attract only fortune hunters and fast young men looking to lure the “wanton” into the shrubbery.’
Giff didn’t find that prospect very reassuring. Neither type of man was likely to respect Temper—and the latter could, as his godmother had pointed out, actually pose a danger to her.
Maybe he ought to drop by a few of the entertainments she attended, just to make sure she was safe.
‘It pains me that society will try to paint you in that light. When we both know that neither you—nor your mother, it turns out—possess such a character.’
‘As I told your godmother, people will think what they want, regardless of the truth. But in this instance, I’m glad of it. It should require only a little push to have society confirm that I don’t respect its rules, ensuring that no respectable gentleman will pay me his addresses.’
‘Just as long as you are not targeted by the truly disreputable.’
‘As long as I have a chaperon clinging to my side, I hope I am! Everyone knows disreputable gentlemen are the most charming! Except for you, of course, Giff. You’re respectable and—alluring.’
The change in her tone—from amusement to warmth of a different sort—pulled his gaze from the road to her. The yearning he read in her eyes fired his always-simmering attraction into full-on arousal.
Fierce, intelligent—and so beautiful. He had an almost overwhelming urge to lean down and kiss her.
The curricle hit a bump, jolting him back to the job of controlling the horses. But his palms were sweating and his breathing uneven when he pulled up his team in front of Vraux House.
‘You needn’t see me in,’ she said as his tiger jumped down and trotted over to help her out of the vehicle. ‘I shall try not to be too outrageous, so hopefully your kindness in intervening to help me won’t come back to haunt you.’
He looked at her full in the face this time, struck anew by her beauty—and the softened lips and molten gaze that confirmed the strong current of desire coursing through him was unmistakably mutual. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other.
She reached a hand out, as if to touch him, then drew it back again. ‘Thank you, Giff,’ she whispered, then turned away to let his tiger help her down.
Ridiculous, to feel an instant bolt of envy because that skinny, pock-faced boy was touching her—as he wanted to so fiercely and mustn’t.
Fists clenched on the reins, Giff watched her walk into Vraux House—both regretting and hopeful that his part in the launching of Miss Temperance Lattimar’s Season had just been completed.

Chapter Five (#u99a27dcf-481b-5ead-8d49-e037598bf7bf)
A week later, dressed to attend her introductory tea at Lady Sayleford’s, Temper inspected herself in her looking glass. The afternoon gown, one of the new dresses she’d just acquired, was cut with the wide sleeves, narrow waist and belled skirts of the latest style, done up in a deep blue silk that enhanced her eyes. Not the virginal white of a timid debutante, but the colour suited her—both in looks and temperament.
Telling herself she had no need to be nervous, she was walking down the stairs to collect her cloak and have the butler summon her a hackney when the door opened and Gifford Newell walked in. He looked up, saw her—and stopped short.
She froze, transfixed by the intensity of his admiring gaze, for the first time glad that the exaggerated style emphasised the smallness of her waist while the low bodice exposed her neck and shoulders. Then, telling herself not to be ridiculous, she lifted her skirts and continued downwards, ignoring the accelerated beat of her heart and the queer fluttering in the pit of her stomach.
He was, she discovered when she looked up after descending the last step, still gazing at her. ‘Exquisite!’ he murmured. ‘If being the most beautiful lady in the room means society will exile you, your Season will be over before it begins.’
She shouldn’t feel such satisfaction at knowing he found her attractive—but she did. ‘The colour is lovely, although I can’t admire the style. These sleeves and skirts! Impossible to do anything useful wearing something so wide.’
‘Of course not. As a society lady, you’re supposed to be admired and have everything done for you.’
‘In other words, be vacant-headed and decorative.’ She sighed. ‘Heaven help me survive this Season! You’re looking handsome as always, Giff. Come to find Gregory?’
‘No, I came to collect you. To escort you to Lady Sayleford’s. I’m pleased to find you ready. My godmother detests tardiness.’
‘You’re escorting me?’ she echoed. ‘I thought the tea would be a ladies’ affair.’
‘So did I, but when Lady Sayleford commands, one complies. Unless one is prepared to move to the Outer Hebrides, which would be a rather inconvenient location for a sitting Member of Parliament.’
‘I understand carrier pigeons can travel hundreds of miles in just a few hours,’ she offered, smiling. ‘But I agree, the Outer Hebrides would be inconvenient. Though if it is to be just ladies, I can’t imagine why she would require you to escort me. Surely she knows I’m capable of taking a hackney from Vraux House to hers!’
‘I long ago learned never to question my godmother’s inscrutable ways,’ Giff replied. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Yes. Hopefully once you’ve delivered me, she will release you back to your duties. As a sitting Member of Parliament.’
To her relief, Newell had brought his curricle, requiring him to keep his attention focused on his driving, rather than on her. With him otherwise occupied, she could sit beside him and enjoy the delicious frisson of attraction that sizzled between them without any chance of being tempted further down a road she had no business travelling.
The afternoon being busy and the traffic noisy, she made no attempt to converse as they made the transit. A short time later, he pulled up his team in front of Lady Sayleford’s town house, his tiger springing down to help her out.
They walked in, Harris once again showing them into the Grand Parlour where, this time, Lady Sayleford awaited them.
‘Here I am, ma’am, as summoned,’ Giff said as he bent to kiss his godmother’s cheek after the ladies exchanged curtsies. ‘Was that the extent of the service you wished me to render?’
‘You think I would require you merely to deliver Miss Lattimar, who is entirely capable of making the arduous journey from Brook Street to Grosvenor Square on her own? No, I have other plans, which will put all your wit and charm to good use.’
Motioning them to a seat, she said, ‘As you can see, you’ve been summoned before the other guests. I want you to meet my great-niece, Mrs Angela Moorsby, and instruct you, Gifford, on the role you must play. That first.’
‘What, precisely, would you have me do?’
‘I have invited a few of the most important society hostesses. After greeting them all, I wish to speak privately with each one. Your task, Gifford, will be to assist my niece in keeping the other ladies entertained, the conversation flowing brightly, so none are tempted—or able—to eavesdrop on my tête-à-tête.’
‘What part am I to play?’ Temper asked.
‘You, my dear, will be sitting by me, so that each lady gets a...proper introduction.’
And with that explanation, which explained nothing, I will have to be satisfied, Temper thought, suppressing a smile. Very well. She was quite prepared to recite her few lines while Lady Sayleford directed the overall action.
‘I don’t suppose I’m permitted to ask who, what or why?’ Giff said, posing what, from the frown Lady Sayleford returned him, Temper knew had been a rhetorical question.
‘Ah, here she is! Angela, allow me to present my godson, Gifford Myles Newell, and the young lady you are to chaperon, Miss Temperance Lattimar. Children, this is my great-niece, Mrs Angela Moorsby.’
Sucking in a breath in apprehension, Temper watched a small, plump woman cross the room, her rotund form garbed in a slightly out-of-fashion gown.
‘Mr Newell, well met!’ she said, curtsying to them, her pleasant face wreathed in a smile. ‘And Miss Lattimar! So you are the angel of mercy who is enlivening my dull life by providing me a Season in London. And a complement of lovely new gowns, as well! Thank you! I intend to enjoy myself exceedingly—and, I promise you, to chaperon with a very light hand.’
Temper smiled back at the friendly gaze and open, honest countenance of Angela Moorsby, her fear of having to deal with an incompatible chaperon melting into an instant rapport.
And a sharp stab of guilt, to doom this pleasant, innocent lady to the criticism and censure she expected her presentation would heap on the head of her hapless chaperon. Looking over at Lady Sayleford, she said, ‘Have you warned her what my Season will likely entail?’
‘Oh, no, my child. I thought it better to allow you to do that.’
So you can listen to me explain one more time before giving final approval? Temper would not be at all surprised, should she express something to incur Lady Sayleford’s disapproval, to have the offer of sponsorship revoked on the instant and the great-niece sent back to rural obscurity.
‘Are you acquainted with the...circumstances of my family?’ she asked Mrs Moorsby.
‘Yes, Lady Sayleford related to me the...unusual nature of your upbringing and the reason why you are in need of a chaperon.’
‘So you know society expects me to be ill behaved, amoral and capricious. Although I am none of those things, neither am I interested in marriage, so while my behaviour will give no credence to the first two traits, I am perfectly happy to play up the latter. In fact, I may take a few strategic actions to reinforce my reputation as an ungovernable woman no respectable gentleman would have as a wife. Acting as chaperon to such a creature may well be accompanied by...an unpleasantness that may make you wish you had remained in Portsmouth. Are you sure you want to take me on?’
‘So that you can fulfil your father’s requirement that you have a Season and go on to become a lady explorer? What a marvellous thing! If I hadn’t grown so fond of my snug hearth and my comfortable little Portsmouth community, I would almost be tempted to go exploring again myself. I was never the Beauty you are, but I was rather adventuresome myself as a girl, marrying a merchant captain over my family’s objections and going to sea with him.’
‘How wonderful!’ Temper declared, delighted. ‘You must tell me about your travels!’
‘Some other day, perhaps,’ Mrs Moorsby replied.
She looked up to find Lady Sayleford smiling and was struck again by her shrewdness. You sly old lady, she thought. You chose the perfect chaperon for me.
‘I’ve never held with mealy-mouthed females who haven’t the wit to form their own opinion or who constantly look to some man for guidance.’ Mrs Moorsby winked at her. ‘My aunt warned that you will likely kick over the traces. I shall enjoy watching you.’
Temper smiled wryly. ‘I hope it may prove entertaining. However, you may well have your judgement and your competence questioned, or find yourself pitied, when I prove to be...less than conformable.’
Mrs Moorsby shrugged. ‘What do I care for the opinions of people I shall never see again, once the Season is over? As long as you enjoy shopping, theatre, concerts and—’ she winked at Giff ‘—the company of handsome gentlemen, I’m sure we shall get on splendidly.’
Harris returned then, intoning, ‘Lady Spencer-Woods, Mrs Dalworthy, Lady Wentwith and Mrs Dobbs-Henry.’
‘You know what you are to do?’ Lady Sayleford murmured as they all rose to greet the newcomers.
‘Perfectly,’ Mrs Moorsby said with a conspiratorial smile.
‘Welcome, ladies,’ the Countess said after the exchange of bows and curtsies. ‘I wanted you to be the first to meet my protégée, Miss Temperance Lattimar, who makes her debut this Season. Her chaperon, Mrs Moorsby, and my godson, Mr Newell.’
The pleasant smiles of greeting on the faces of the newcomers froze as Lady Sayleford spoke. Four heads turned as one to fix surprised, then horrified, then offended gazes on Temperance.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened and gazed straight back, a smile fixed to her lips. Is this how you do it, Mama?
‘Ah, here is Harris with our tea. Won’t you be seated?’
Under the Countess’s direction, Temper found herself on the sofa next to Lady Sayleford, Lady Spencer-Woods in a chair adjacent to them, while Giff and Mrs Moorsby sat with the other ladies in a grouping of chairs closer to the hearth.
After the initial shocked silence, with a murmur of voices and clink of cups emanating from the group near the fireplace, Lady Sayleford said, ‘So, Elizabeth, I expect you will give your usual ball, now that Parliament is in session.’ She turned to Temper. ‘Lady Spencer-Woods’s Opening Ball is the premier entertainment of the Early Season, attended by everyone of importance in society.’ Looking back at her guest, she continued, ‘You will certainly send Miss Lattimar and Mrs Moorsby a card.’
The guest shifted uncomfortably, shooting Temper a pained, faintly contemptuous glance, ‘Really, Emily,’ she said in a low voice, leaning forward as if speaking with the Countess alone, ‘I know you are somehow...connected to her family, but this is outside of enough! You may amuse yourself, inviting the Vraux woman to your entertainments, but you cannot expect me to recognise a daughter of that...creature!’
Temper didn’t need the Countess’s subtle warning glance to know she must remain silent. As if I weren’t right here, listening to every word, Temper thought, outrage filling her and the tea turning bitter on her tongue. You must accustom yourself to hearing this and worse. Was that what Lady Sayleford meant to teach her, by compelling her to witness this exchange?
‘Leaving aside any commentary on Lady Vraux’s character, the child is not her mother.’
Lady Spencer-Woods gave a thin smile. ‘She might be worse.’
‘I’ll let that indictment of my judgement pass,’ the Countess said mildly, but with a frigid look that saw her visitor’s defiance collapse. ‘It would please me mightily to have you send Miss Lattimar and her chaperon a card. And see that all your friends do, as well. However, if you wish to be...disobliging, I might suddenly recall a certain incident with a dancing master that happened in our debut Season.’
The matron paled. ‘I hardly think society would be interested in...in a silly contretemps from so many years ago.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. When a lady is one of the premier arbiters of society, whose judgements about the character of young ladies have made or destroyed reputations and Seasons, I expect there might be exceptional interest in the story of a—’
‘Never mind,’ Lady Spencer-Woods interrupted, bright spots of colour blooming in her cheeks. ‘I don’t think any further details are necessary.’
Not with a highly interested witness sitting in, Temper thought. Lady Sayleford, how clever you are indeed.
‘For a woman, “incidents” are never truly past and forgotten, are they? Even when one has lived blamelessly for thirty years.’
‘Felicia Lattimar has hardly lived “blamelessly” for thirty years!’
‘She might have, had her idiot of a husband paid her any attention. And might have still, had that cad Hightower not spread his malicious stories all over town. In any event, you will invite Miss Lattimar to your ball—won’t you? Ladies of power and influence should present a united front.’
Lady Spencer-Woods held her hostess’s unflinching stare for a moment, before dropping her gaze. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Then we understand each other. Excellent.’
Lady Sayleford smiled serenely, as if she hadn’t just manoeuvred her outraged guest into checkmate. ‘You need do nothing more than receive Miss Lattimar. I shall not hold you responsible for her ultimate success, or lack of it. Unless, of course, I learn you’ve said or done something disparaging to compromise it.’
‘I shall not forget this, Emily,’ Lady Spencer-Woods said, looking back up at the Countess, her expression a mixture of resentment and reluctant admiration.
‘I don’t expect you will. Now, I know you’d like to become better acquainted with Mrs Moorsby, who will be accompanying Miss Lattimar to all her entertainments.’ She gestured towards the other group, a clear sign of dismissal. ‘I shall look forward to seeing you at your ball.’
‘I shall be delighted to welcome you. And your lovely protégée,’ she added with a resigned glance at Temper. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. ‘Emily, what a trickster you are! One never knows what outrageous thing you will do. Have no fear, I shall play my part.’
‘I never doubted it. I know just how...ingenious you can be, Elizabeth,’ the Countess replied, amusement in her eyes as her guest’s cheeks once again went rosy.
* * *
And so it went with each matron in turn. Lady Sayleford immediately demanded support for Temper, countered any objections about her and her mother, then moved in for the kill with a hint about some questionable event in the lady’s past the Countess might just happen to recall, should her guest not prove accommodating.
After the guests took their leave, Temper turned to gaze in awe at her sponsor. ‘You really do know everything about everyone!’
Lady Sayleford chuckled. ‘The benefit of a long life spent building such a reputation for discretion, every bit of scandal finds its way to my ear.’
‘Still, I regret that you had to play so many of the trumps you’ve kept close in hand. I hope giving them up—and the animosity you may have incurred for playing them now—won’t come back to harm you.’
‘You needn’t worry, my dear. I have enough other trumps tucked away to be in no danger of losing whatever game I choose. Now you are privy to some of that knowledge, too.’
‘And you made sure all those ladies knew it!’
‘I don’t intend to go everywhere with you. But they all know their secrets will. Shall we join the others?’
‘How well you work your magic!’ Mrs Moorsby said to the Countess as she made room for Temperance on the sofa beside her. ‘After chatting with you, each lady came back to express her delight in making my acquaintance and her hope that my charge and I would be able to attend the entertainment she intended to give later in the Season. Bravo, Aunt Lilly!’
‘One does one’s possible,’ Lady Sayleford said, a satisfied smile on her lips. ‘The two of you did well, too, keeping your group from listening in—though, after each one finished her session, she must have known something similar was being said to the others and been agog to discover what lapse that lady had committed.’
‘Have you made out a social schedule for us yet?’ Mrs Moorsby asked.
‘Not yet. We shall do that together, once the invitations begin to come in.’
‘With Mr Newell present, as well? I imagine he has duties in Parliament, and we will want to make sure the entertainments we attend will not conflict.’
‘Why would they?’ Temper asked. ‘Surely with you on hand to provide protection and assistance, Mr Newell’s part is finished—and I sincerely thank him for his efforts!’
‘Unless I’m mistaken, it’s not at all finished,’ Mrs Moorsby said. ‘I may be your chaperon, but the Countess believes that Mr Newell should act as a sort of...guardian. Don’t you, Aunt Lilly?’
The Countess nodded. ‘You must admit, Miss Lattimar, that if some...unscrupulous man tried to take advantage, a female chaperon would be of limited assistance. Having everyone know there’s a gentleman nearby, watching over you, will ensure that no blackguard makes such an attempt.’
‘And while standing guard, Mr Newell shall have a chance to review the field of prospective brides,’ Mrs Moorsby added.
‘But wouldn’t his being in my company compromise his reputation—limiting his chances of meeting eligible young ladies? For their mamas will surely want them to avoid me,’ Temper countered.
Lady Sayleford waved a dismissive hand. ‘If he were seen as a suitor, perhaps. But as my godson, delegated to look after the young lady I’m sponsoring, society should expect him to be in your company.’
Her chaperon’s bright smile indicating how entirely unaware she was of the consternation this alteration in plan had just evoked, Mrs Moorsby stood up. ‘I will leave you now to take my rest, but I understand we are to do some shopping later, Miss Lattimar. I shall look forward to it! A pleasure to meet you both.’ After dipping them a curtsy, she walked from the room.
‘Lady Sayleford, you cannot mean for Giff—Mr Newell to...to dance attendance on me at every social event I attend!’ Temperance cried as soon as her chaperon exited. ‘I would never have consented for him to consult you had I any notion you might require such a thing! You must release him from that obligation, or I shall—’
‘What?’ Lady Sayleford interrupted. ‘Cancel your Season? Kick about the house in Brook Street for another year, or go bury yourself in the country at Entremer? Or do you think making a second attempt to convince your father to fund you will have better success than the first?’

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