“Why don’t you want to host the charity ball, Lord Dane? It will be an excellent way to carry on your brother’s legacy.”
“I’d rather cancel the thing. I have enough to deal with.”
“But you heard your steward. The tickets have been sold, the monies partially spent,” Miss Hodwell reminded him.
“I know nothing of running charitable events. I always hated attending them as a boy. My father preening about, wanting everyone to pat him on the back for being such a virtuous man. All the other patrons only there to display their wealth and status.”
“A very cynical view. I should think that some must have unselfish motives, and the charity ball gives them a chance to contribute in a meaningful way.”
“Not many. They’re hiding vanity and a passion for display under a veil of benevolence so that they can congratulate themselves on such meritorious duty. And now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have an appointment to keep with the Duke of Osborne.”
“And we’re on our way to an engagement withBaron Chisholme,” Sandrine said. “He’s taking me to see the Tower of London.”
“I told you not to associate with him,” Lord Dane growled.
“And I told you that you have no authority over me.”
Miss Hodwell eyed them with delight on her face. “I’ll leave you this plate of macaroons for your dessert, Lord Dane.”
He escorted them to the door, and Miss Hodwell was already in the hallway when Sandrine turned back to Lord Dane.
“I must tell you something,” she whispered urgently. “I observed the crowd closely after our conversation at the prizefight, and there was a man who watched you intently the entire day. His gaze never strayed from you. He was tall, well-dressed, with a thin mustache and a nearly bald head. I orchestrated it so that I bumped into him accidentally and glanced more closely at his clothing, and I saw that he wore a curious stickpin in his cravat in the shape of a scorpion. I made a sketch of it.” She handed the paper to him.
“You bumped into him on purpose?”
“He didn’t know that.”
“Sandrine. My God, you’re not listening to me. You can’t associate with these men, they’re dangerous, do you hear me? Three of them threatened me with fists and knives.”
“How about, ‘Thank you, Miss Oliver, this is extremely useful information’?”
“It is useful information, but the risk of obtaining it was too great.”
“You don’t care if you live or die, racing your curricles, so it’s up to others to take an interest in keeping you alive.”
“Good day, Miss Oliver,” Lord Dane said through gritted teeth, practically pushing her out the door.
Dane and Warburton were shown into the town house of Dalton, Duke of Osborne, and ushered into a study to wait.
“That woman will be the death of me,” Dane grumbled.
“If the extortionists don’t knife you first.”
“Believe me, they have nothing on Miss Sandrine Oliver when she wants to plague a man.”
“She’s only having revenge on the sorry way you treated her. What did she do now?” asked Warburton.
“Put herself in harm’s way trying to help me. I’ll tell you about it when Osborne arrives.”
“She seems quite capable and intelligent. I think she can take care of herself.”
“It’s all a sham, this London sophistication, attack-the-lord-in-his-lair act. I know her, and she’s the sweetest, most openhearted, innocent, and generous soul I’ve ever met.”
“Has you hot under the cravat, it’s plain to see.”
Dane groaned. “That’s the problem. I want her, Warburton.” He gripped the arm of his chair. “I can’t stop wanting her, and it’s driving me to the edge of madness.”
“Only natural. She’s a pretty little thing.”