Page 10 of A Lady’s Guide to Scoundrels and Gentlemen (The Harp & Thistle #1)

D espite the disastrous ball, Vivian received a few invitations to afternoon tea. The aristocracy seemed to be showing cautious acceptance of her again now that the queen had deemed her English enough in these dire times, giving public approval of Vivian by allowing her at the first birthday ball. This gave Vivian a chance to reconnect with many of her old friends, the women she had grown up with, women who were now wives and mothers.

One such defrosted friend was Mrs. Oscar Bishop, whom Vivian had once known as simply Martha. Unlike with the others, afternoon tea with Mrs. Bishop consisted of only Martha and Vivian. And it happened to occur at the same time Martha’s husband, Mr. Oscar Bishop, was entertaining friends from Brooks’s gentlemen’s club—suspiciously, many of whom were her chasers.

“Very well, you’ve figured me out,” Martha said casually from her dark-blue, velvet chair, a table with multi-leveled trays of finger sandwiches and biscuits between the two women. “I can see it in your face. I won’t even try to hide it. I figured, since you’re back, maybe I could reintroduce you to some people.” She’d ended this with a smirk.

Vivian had glanced out the open door to the den across the hallway, where loud, raucous laughter spilled out into the stately home. Vivian had gladly accepted the invitation for tea to reconnect with a friend. But it appeared to include more infernal meddling.

“Oh, I’m not sure I’m too interested in seeking out male attention, Mrs. Bishop,” Vivian replied.

Martha had laughed and set her teacup to the side, clearly determined to ignore Vivian’s protests. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to parade you around, but I did want to catch up with you and Oscar said, ‘Why don’t I have the boys over, too?’ Two birds, one stone, as they say. Apparently, you’re the popular topic at Brooks’s.”

Caution snaked through Vivian. She’d been wondering if Queen Victoria had been gossiping about Vivian’s secret husband search. There was a lot to dislike about the woman, but Vivian would also have been surprised by this. The queen was many things, including being quite competitive. There was no way the queen would tell anyone Vivian herself had agreed to search for a husband, as that would take away her chances to succeed in creating a match. And once the queen set her mind upon something, everyone else followed. And that would decrease the queen’s chances of being the one to make the match.

No, Vivian was confident Queen Victoria was not behind this. “I am?” Vivian asked, genuinely surprised at being a popular topic of anything.

Martha had nodded slowly. “Oh, yes. The boys are fighting amongst themselves over who will win you in the end.”

“‘Win me in the end’?” Vivian tilted her head. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re actively looking for a husband now, are you not?”

Vivian’s back became rigid. The last thing she’d needed was for that to get out. Time to deflect. “They assume old spinster Vivian is in search of a husband now, do they? I’m no fool, Mrs. Bishop. I know they’re only after my money.”

Martha’s hand rested casually over the arm of her chair and she slowly looked Vivian over. “Of course they’re after that—money’s what runs the world, isn’t it? And how many of them are close to broke these days? But they aren’t merely assuming—they were told you were. In fact, and you’ll simply die when you hear this, they started a wager book on you. Wagers are being thrown left and right on whom you will end up choosing.”

It took everything in Vivian to not claw at her chair. She needed to keep a calm face. “Oh? And who do they think is in the lead?”

“Lord George Stafford. If memory serves me correctly, he went on a carriage ride with your family once about, oh, fifteen years ago, and that got a lot of people talking about you two.”

“Really? Nothing happened there.” In truth, Lord Stafford was one of the gentlemen who’d called on her multiple times back when she’d been a debutante and before the queen had marked her as off-limits. Back then, Vivian had even thought something could possibly happen there. But eventually, Lord Stafford’s betrothment to another woman had been announced. However, if her memory served correctly, that betrothment had lasted several years before being called off, and his fiancée had married someone else. As far as Vivian knew, he’d never married. He was also not one of her chasers at present, which ticked in his favor.

“So the carriage ride did happen?” Martha rested her chin in her hand. “That’s likely why he’s the lead for the wager.” Martha then mumbled something about informing Oscar of Vivian’s information. “Anyway, you do know who informed them of your search, don’t you?”

“Surely not!” Vivian pressed her hand to her heart.

Martha laughed. “Why, your own brother, of course! Lord Litchfield told the entirety of Brooks’s one evening, and that was the catalyst of the wager and wager book.”

Vivian did her best to force a pleasant smile. Even though it shouldn’t surprise her Bernard had told an entire gentleman’s club about her husband search, her blood boiled regardless.

*

Vivian climbed the stairs to the National Gallery, her emerald-green skirt swishing with the movement. She paid the entry and followed the crowd toward the new Pre-Raphaelite art exhibition. After seeing Martha the other day, Vivian had decided to be more resolute in finding a husband on her own terms, and new art exhibitions were always popular social events. This would be a better place to find a potential husband than a ball.

Thankfully, when she’d sent Dantes a note asking him to meet her here, he’d replied the same day confirming he would.

Unfortunately, so much relied on Vivian finding a gentleman who wanted marriage. It wasn’t even that Vivian didn’t want to move back in with Father, which was part of it, of course. But the hard work of past generations had to be protected by Vivian. Gran used to share stories about Vivian’s great-great grandparents immigrating to the United States from France with empty pockets and big dreams, but connections to perfumers thanks to both of them working for one. And wealthy Americans tore each other apart to get their hands on anything en vogue from London or Paris.

Gran clearly hadn’t trusted Bernard with her family’s fortune, and with everything Vivian had learned about Bernard since the inheritance, she didn’t trust him much, either. She loved her brother, but to deny he would be detrimental to generations of hard work would be foolhardy.

As Vivian entered the new art exhibition and began searching through the crowd, she discovered Dantes was already there, standing before a painting, completely engrossed in it.

For a moment, she watched him. His head tilted ever so slightly, his hands knit together behind his back. People were all around him, with numerous conversations occurring simultaneously. And yet he continued to stare at the piece before him, as if he were alone in the room with it. The anxious pit that had rooted in her stomach over the past few weeks began to loosen. Knowing Dantes was nearby made her feel better. Safer.

As she began walking over to him, he suddenly reached into a trouser pocket, as if feeling for something he was afraid he had lost. Keys, or a billfold, perhaps. As he reassured himself the item remained in his pocket, clearly relieved, he spotted Vivian and began to approach her. He took her hand and leaned over while lifting the back of her gloved hand to his lips, throwing her back to that moment by the boxing ring. She swallowed.

“Lady Vivian.” Dantes greeted her with a polite smile, letting her hand go.

“You look dashing today, Mr. McNab.” Vivian returned the polite smile.

“Thank you.” Dantes’s face went flat and he turned his attention to the crowd. “I was thinking today you could walk about the exhibition on your own while I watch from a distance, and later can tell you if anyone you spoke to is a worthy gentleman. I didn’t help you much at the ball. No one approached you until you were away from me.”

“Oh.” Now this, she hadn’t been expecting. And the thought of husband-hunting more independently made her a bit nervous.

But he was also right.

“You’re not here to be with me, anyway.” Dantes looked her right in the eye as he said this.

Oh, she wished he hadn’t worded it that way. “No, of course not. Very well. I’ll do that if you think it’s best.” As she looked around the room, however, she spotted Mr. Ollie McNab near a large oil painting of three frilly women playing a card game. “I didn’t realize you’d attended with your brother.”

Dantes frowned and hastily looked over the crowd. “I didn’t,” he said right after spotting Ollie himself. Ollie noticed them at the same time and gave a friendly wave as he made his way over. Vivian waved back and couldn’t help but notice Dantes scowling quite deeply.

“What a surprise!” Ollie approached them with a wide, humored grin, as a woman in an eye-watering orange dress and pink gemstone jewelry clung to his arm. He introduced his companion as Miss Penelope Findlay and as he met Dantes’s glare, his face became veiled with mischief.

“What are you doing here?” Dantes’s deep voice was edged with irritation.

Ollie put his arm around Miss Findlay and pulled her close, causing her to giggle. “Penelope begged to come by today, and I thoroughly enjoy people-watching, so I agreed.” As Ollie said this, he shot Dantes an even wider smile and laughed, almost as if this were a private joke between the brothers. “But don’t worry, you won’t even see me.”

Vivian didn’t know Dantes’s brother well. But to her, the younger man’s impossibly good looks and easy charm screamed trouble. She wondered how the far more serious Dantes and Victor managed to deal with Ollie. She suspected he had been a handful his entire life.

Upon this thought, Vivian looked up at Dantes and saw his jaw clench. Ollie seemed to get a kick out of this, because he turned to Vivian and said, “Lady Vivian, I may be the biggest scoundrel of the McNabs, but if you choose me to be your husband, I promise I’ll never look at another woman again.”

She could see the humor in Ollie’s eyes and couldn’t help but laugh. Even Miss Findlay mock-scolded him. “Very well, Mr. McNab. I shall add you to the list—however, you may be closer to the end.”

Ollie laughed loudly at this and excused himself, playfully punching his older brother as he and Miss Findlay passed by.

After their departure, Vivian began her circle about the room while Dantes went off to the side somewhere on his own. What exactly was she supposed to do next? This was all so strange. It had been so much clearer as a debutante. You got placed on the marriage market, men asked to court you, and then you got married. What was she supposed to do now? Perhaps she should have asked Dantes for advice.

As she continued to meander about, she exchanged pleasant greetings with several people before she finally noticed a lone gentleman observing a painting of a woman in a blue dress sitting in a tree, an open book on her lap. He wasn’t tall, maybe even a bit shorter than Vivian, but he had a nice, square jaw and appeared fit. As Vivian approached him, she realized it was Mr. Robert Knowlton, a man who used to play cricket with Bernard when they’d been younger. Would it be inappropriate for her to start a conversation with him? Unsure of what to do, she decided to stop at the painting and observe it too, hoping he would speak to her first.

“Oh! Lady Vivian!” Mr. Knowlton said almost immediately, to her relief. “What a pleasant surprise! I haven’t seen you in quite some time.”

Vivian gave him a small smile. “It has been a while.”

“Congratulations on your, erm…” He twisted his mouth in thought. “On your recent windfall. You know, you should come by for dinner soon!”

That was quick. “Oh, maybe—”

But he turned around and grabbed a petite woman chatting with others nearby, pulling her to his side. She barely came up to his chest. “Sweetums, look who it is!”

Sweetums shrieked out in excitement when she caught Vivian’s eye. “Lady Vivian Winthrop! Ahh!” Miss Minnie Proctor—well, apparently, now Mrs. Minnie Knowlton—rushed up to Vivian. As Minnie did this, over the excited woman’s shoulder, Vivian caught Dantes hovering nearby, trying his best to cover up a laugh with a cough. Fair enough, it had been a mildly humorous mistake. She couldn’t help but shoot him a sheepish grin. Obviously, she’d had no idea Mr. Knowlton and Minnie had married.

Minnie pulled back. “You absolutely must come by soon. We have so much to catch up on. I’ll send you an invitation.” She flicked her wrist.

“That would be lovely,” Vivian replied.

“Now, we do have to keep moving.” Minnie flicked her wrist again. “We’re doing a tour with a guide right now, but before I go, I have a question I’m dying to ask. Who was that man you were with at the queen’s first seventieth birthday ball?”

Vivian was not the least bit surprised she and Dantes had been the source of gossip, especially with the way he’d yelled at them all. What did surprise her was Minnie had been the first to dare ask. “Oh, merely a friend of mine.”

Minnie closed her eyes and put a hand to her stomach. “Oh, thank goodness because I thought to myself, Surely, Lady Vivian can do better than that ! ”

Vivian frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, and this isn’t a judgment on his character, darling, but he’s a rather terrifying-looking man. His face, is all.” She mimicked a slash across her own face. “And there are rumors he lives under London Bridge which, of course, is silly. But surely, you lovely creature, you could attract a man much more handsome than that! You deserve a man more handsome than that!”

Vivian gasped loudly at this, horrified. “Mrs. Knowlton, how can you say such words?!”

Minnie merely laughed, no doubt completely unaware. Had she always been this way? Mr. Knowlton, however, clearly understood Vivian’s horror and swept Minnie away just as his wife exclaimed over her shoulder, “I’ll introduce you to someone far superior!”

As the couple disappeared, Vivian was left behind feeling rather small. She glanced over to Dantes. He furrowed his brow in concern, perhaps wanting to know what had happened. But she couldn’t tell him. Immediately, she shook her head, mouthing the word Nothing , but he held the concerned expression. Distressed, she turned away and continued around the exhibition, feeling like a leaded weight.

After another hour or two of mingling, she stopped at a painting of Ophelia just as a gentleman took to her side and said hello . He wasn’t someone she would normally have picked out from a crowd, but as they began discussing the contrast of the serene beauty of the painting versus Ophelia’s tragic death to follow, Vivian found him rather engaging. He was a polite gentleman, a little soft-spoken, a little round in the belly, but that was a good sign, wasn’t it?

But he soon began to exhibit rather strange behavior. Sweating profusely, constant dabbing at his forehead. And his hands were twitchy with nerves. Bizarre.

“I apologize, miss,” he said after seeming to realize she had noticed this odd behavior. “But are you familiar with that gentleman over there? I believe his name is Mr. McNab?”

Vivian looked in the direction he had indicated and spotted Dantes leaning back against the wall. Instead of being relaxed and humored as he had been before, this time, his arms were crossed tightly over his wide chest, his jaw clenched. She met his intense, green stare, a stare that didn’t falter under hers. She frowned, concerned and confused by this change in behavior.

To add to the strangeness of this, a further distance away was Penelope dragging Ollie around—but Ollie’s attention was solidly on Dantes, the younger McNab’s head bobbing around anyone blocking his view to keep his eye on his older brother.

Vivian turned back, not sure what to make of all of this. “Yes, I do know him. Why?”

“Are you here together? I’m sorry. It’s just, the way he’s glaring over here. Like he’s ready to rip my head off or something.” The man ended this with a shaky laugh.

There was no sense in lying. “I suppose we are. However, he is nothing more than a friend of mine.”

The man let out another nervous laugh, wringing his hands as he took one step back. And another. “Well, it was a pleasant conversation, miss. However, I’m expected on the other side of the museum. Enjoy your afternoon!” And before she could respond, he bolted away and disappeared into the crowd.

Vivian stared at his vacant spot, surprised by the sudden departure. The gentleman—whose name she hadn’t even gotten a chance to learn—had clearly been frightened off by Dantes, not that she could blame him. Why was Dantes glowering? The man was right—Dantes did look like he was about to rip the gentleman’s head off.

Vivian hastened over to Dantes, planting both feet squarely before him and crossing her arms. “What are you doing?” she asked, low enough so only he could hear her in the loud crowd.

He frowned even more deeply but remained in place. “What do you mean?”

“I was having a perfectly nice conversation with that friendly gentleman and you wouldn’t stop glaring at us. You made him so nervous, he asked if I knew you and practically ran for his life when I confirmed I did!”

Dantes pulled away from the wall and clenched his fists. “Vivian, that idiot was arrested for battering a woman a few months ago. One of the women who works in his kitchen! The poor girl was in hospital for weeks. My sincerest apologies for having an issue with you being within his breathing space, but I thought that was the reason I’m here in the first place!”

Vivian stammered briefly. That timid man had beaten a woman? “He did? You’re sure?”

“Oh, blast, Vivian, I wouldn’t lie to you about something like that!”

“No. Of course not. But, then, why isn’t he in prison?”

“Men like that aren’t thrown in the clink. The worst criminals of London live in the nicest houses. But they’ll never see the inside of a prison cell, and the newspapers will never report a single word on it because they own the newspapers! The police are in their pockets. These men”—he jutted his chin out to the crowd—“could kill someone right here, right now, and never even be glanced at by the police.”

Vivian swallowed and didn’t respond, horrified by this.

The impossibility of Gran’s stipulation began to weigh extra heavily on her. “The others I spoke with in passing. Were any of them even remotely respectable? Even the tiniest bit?” It really shouldn’t have been this hard to find an unmarried man with morals, who would respect her as a human being! Were all men such scoundrels?

Vivian thought back to Minnie. Even Martha had her moments.

It wasn’t just the men, though, was it?

Was she awful, too?

Dantes scratched at his jaw, regarding her for a moment. “No. None of them were worth talking to.”

“I think I’ve had my fill of socializing, then.” Vivian tasted the bitterness in her words, thoroughly disappointed by yet another failure of a day. At this point, she would settle for anyone she could trust. Forget love—that was clearly impossible.

Which she’d already known going into this.

Dantes’s face softened at her evident despair. “Let me take a look around, see if anyone stands out to me.”

Nodding, she watched as he looked over the room. She found herself wondering what kind of woman appealed to Dantes. What kind of woman did a scoundrel pugilist desire? Vivian imagined loud, wild women. Clearly not from the aristocracy like herself, not prim and boring like her, either. No, Dantes would go for a woman who didn’t care what others thought of her and went out and had fun for the sake of having a good time. Vivian imagined a vivacious, laughing woman like Miss Findlay clinging to him after he had won a fight—he, muscular, drenched in sweat as he pulled her close. An oily queasiness rolled through Vivian’s stomach.

“The typical,” Dantes said after assessing the crowd, unaware of her thoughts. “Lots of womanizers, and lots of alcoholics.”

“So not even one?”

“Of the unmarried men? No.”

Vivian let out a frustrated sigh. But before she could say anything further, she briefly spotted Ollie watching them once again, and when she caught his eye he looked away immediately.

“Is your brother watching us?” She looked up at Dantes as she asked, confused.

But the fact that Dantes looked in the direction of Ollie, already knowing where he was, answered her question before his words did. “Yes. He is.”

“Why?”

He glanced down at her briefly, his face blank, before looking back up and around the crowd. “He thinks I have affection for you.”

Her eyes widened. That must have been why Dantes was so irritated to see Ollie here. “Do you?”

He laughed. “No.”

“Oh.” It didn’t seem that funny.

“Disappointed?” When Dantes asked, he looked back down at her with more focus, but his voice was arrogant.

She brushed her hands over her skirt, annoyed by Dantes’s demeanor. “Of course not. Why would that disappoint me? You’re helping me find a husband, and marriage isn’t of interest to you, anyway. If you did have affection for me, it would be rather problematic, would it not?”

“Yes, it would.” There was a long pause before he turned to face her directly. “You know what, Lady Vivian, this is a huge load of rubbish your grandmother has given you. I know grandparents are meddling, but holding an inheritance over you like that, forcing you to marry someone you may not want to just so you don’t lose it? How is that supposed to be helpful? And what if you did meet the right person for you, but it was just before your deadline? Would you marry someone you hardly know?”

She stammered at the sudden change in demeanor. “No, of course not.”

“Would you let go of your inheritance, then?”

What a strange direction he had taken this. “I can’t let it go—that isn’t an option to me. My grandmother put full trust in me to protect her family’s fortune and the generations of hard work that went into it. Bernard would lose it all.”

“It bothers me,” Dantes continued while shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m sure your grandmother loved you and thought this was in your best interest, and with the way you people treat marriage as a business deal, it makes sense in that sick sort of way. I just…” He looked away from her and over the top of the crowd. “You deserve better. That’s all.”

A shocking realization washed over her. Despite his denial, did he care about her?

Everything made far more sense that way. His willingness to help her find a spouse, the way he’d taken care of her after the ball, his worry for her now. He cared for her as a friend would. Ollie had merely misconstrued the friendship, that was all.

“I know,” Vivian admitted, relieved to understand what was going on between them. “I knew from the start it would be a disastrous nightmare. I’m trying my best to remain optimistic, think positively, but it’s a rather unsettling endeavor. At least I still have plenty of time. That’s my only comfort right now.”

Dantes looked back down at her, and then he suddenly seemed to loosen up. “You know what? You’re right. You do have time. Look, there’s a fight at my pub tonight. Not with me in it this time, but why don’t you come watch it? Forget about this for one night and have an enjoyable evening for yourself. Unless you want to go home—that’s fine too. But I’m going to be honest with you right now: I really want you to come back with me.”

Something about the way he said this caused Vivian pause. Looking up into his face, she found a brief flicker of hope. Here was Dantes being the good friend he was, doing his best to help her feel better. And he was right to make this suggestion.

Vivian agreed to join. It wasn’t as if forgetting Gran’s stipulation for one night could change anything. It was a single night. What could possibly happen?