Free Lord Scoundrel Dies by Kate Harper Page B

before he could get away). It was entirely
possible he might have promised to turn up at some dance or another while he was
trying to manage a graceful exit because a man tended to babble all
manner of nonsense if he felt desperate. But it was most unfair of
Celeste to call him on it now.
    ‘Do I have to go?’
    ‘Aubrey, don’t you like Felicity?’ Celeste
demanded, hands settling on her hips. She was the sweetest of
creatures, in the general run of things, but she could turn
difficult upon occasion. He did not want this to be one of those
occasions. He’d had enough excitement in his life of
late.
    ‘I like her well enough. Of course I do.’
There wasn’t anything to dislike about Miss Beauchamp apart from
her peculiar desire to get her hooks into him so this was entirely
true.
    ‘Then you’ll come to the dance?’
    He considered his options. If he said he
would go and didn’t, he would hear a long litany of complaint on
the morrow. If he did go, however, he could probably get away with
an hour, a dance with the lady and a quick exit. And no tiresome
recriminations over breakfast the next morning from an aggrieved
Celeste.
    ‘Yes,’ he said, putting the best face on it
that he could. ‘Of course. Apparently I promised that I would.’
    Celeste’s parting smile was dazzling but the
mood that she left him in was not. He glowered at the door for a
time before his thoughts returned to Harriet Honeywood. Not that he
wanted them to. He wanted to forget about the wretched creature
entirely, right along with what had happened the evening before.
But he did hope that she would realise just how dangerous returning
items to the desperate might be. Perhaps if he did happen to run
into her somewhere, he might have a quiet word in her ear. Just to
be sure she understood that some things were better left alone.
     

Chapter Four
     
     
     
     
    The Bradshaw event was not a ball but a more
informal affair, which allowed for a variety of merry dancing,
incorporating the popular country reels that were often left out of
grander occasions due to their frivolous nature. But they really
were a lot of fun and very popular. Under such circumstances, it
was hardly surprising that quite a lot of people were crowding the
spacious apartments.
    Harry was in good spirits when she walked
through the door, having experienced a moderately successful day in
her latest endeavor. Her ponderings the night before had led her to
believe that the undertaking was not going to be easy, so it was
heartening that she should have enjoyed a small triumph so
soon.
    She had identified the owners of several of
the label packets of chits and had the great good luck of
encountering one of them in the park. Lady Helena Astor, a dashing
matron whose élan and high-spirits was much admired by all, had
apparently owed a quite astounding amount of money to Lord Sutton.
Somewhere in the region of fourteen hundred pounds, if Harry’s
quick calculations were accurate. The amount made her eyes water.
To lose so much money at cards! How could one do such a thing? Why
that sum would keep her own parents’ household in funds for several
years. More, in all likelihood. She had clicked her tongue in
dismay, perfectly sure that Lady Astor must be in a dreadful state
about her situation. Returning the lady’s chits to her was
certainly a good place to start. Harry often saw her ladyship when
she was out and about with her cousin or her aunt for the woman was
a complete gadabout. How difficult would it be to slip the small
bundle of papers into her bag or… or something without her
noticing? Harry had tucked the chits into her reticule, right along
with Mrs. Butterworth’s brooch and Cicely Gresham’s earrings before
setting out with Sarah and Aunt Margaret on the daily shopping
excursion that seemed to Harry to be more about being seen than
shopping. Not that she objected. Today she wanted to be out and
about.
    ‘We can walk back through the park,’ her
aunt had