the middle of the night if not to meet a lover?
Durham was deep in thought when he walked into the gentlemen’s lounge and straight into his friend, the Earl of Blackwell. Lord Blackwell regarded him with some interest and motioned him to follow him outside to the terrace.
“Whatever happened while you were at Washburn Court that is generating such furious talk?” the Earl asked, without introduction. “Quite a bit of trouble, from what I’m hearing, and you never said a word! I admit I am very surprised at the gossip that I am hearing, particularly since I never listen to gossip.”
“Well nothing on the order of what you are hearing occurred, Simon,” the Marquess elected to prevaricate a little in the crowded ballroom, “and I am sure I do not understand why Christopher Rosewood would inform a notorious gossip of facts deleterious to his own ward!”
“Facts, Durham? Is it true, then? I have never known you to seduce virgins, at least ones who were put forth as a suitable parti for those such as yourself.” Blackwell observed his friend with a look of disapproval and Durham cursed his clouded thoughts.
“I did no such thing!” the Marquess responded with more vehemence than he had intended. Then, striding quickly to the corner of an empty study with his friend following close behind, explained. “In fact, I have told no one, but in truth, I was in my bedchamber--in my actual bed--preparing for a long and peaceful night’s rest, when a young female person, in the form of Lady Delia Ellsworth came running pell-mell into my room, jumped into my bed and pulled the covers to her chin.”
Simon regarded his friend suspiciously. “You didn’t arrange for that to happen?” he queried, warningly.
“Good God, no! You know very well I have nothing to do with virgins. I was as shocked as she was…” Durham stared off into the distance. He thought to himself that Lady Delia had seemed just as surprised as he was at finding the bed occupied. That probably wouldn’t have been the case had she been expecting someone…would it?
“She was shocked to find you in that bed? I expect she was. It’s a wonder that she didn’t scream her head off.”
“Well, she tried. But I—I stopped her.” For some reason, Durham felt uncomfortable relating the rest of his encounter with Delia.
“You what? How?” The two men exchanged a dark look.
“I did not compromise Delia Ellsworth, in any way,” Durham said coldly, “But this whole dratted situation is smelling worse and worse. I intend to find out why Christopher Rosewood is spreading rumors that he knows will ruin his ward and how he knew she was ever in my room in the first place.”
“To be perfectly fair,” said Blackwell scrupulously, “it was your room. There is, after all, not an unheard-of reputation to be contended with.”
“I have no reputation for seducing chits just out of the schoolroom,” replied Durham irritably. Then he saw his friend’s mouth turn up in a half smile.
“I know that,” he said. “But the rest of society is not as well acquainted with your peculiar ethics in regard to adultery and are probably happy to believe whatever Rosewood tells them.”
Durham’s shoulders drooped but he returned his friend’s wry grin. “Fair point.”
“Something very strange is going on,” the Earl said after a pause, “I don’t understand why Rosewood would ensure that the Smythe-Dunston’s ruin Lady Delia’s reputation and then offer to marry her himself. Who wants to marry a ruined debutante?”
“Someone who needs money when that debutante is very rich. And extremely bloody beautiful.” Blackwell gave his friend a sideways glance of confusion. He had never heard his friend speak with so much vehemence about any lady. He wondered what exactly had happened. As they walked back into the ballroom, they passed a trio of young ladies, gossiping.
“So shocking the way she threw herself at the Marquess of Durham!” a blonde