Page 13 of Lady Louisa and the Carriage Clock (The Rogue’s Alliance #3)

L ouisa wasn’t surprised when Lord Wycliffe left the dinner party early. Nathaniel looked slightly irritated, but Edith took the defection in stride. Her call to play cards hadn’t elicited much interest.

“Shall we have a sherry?” Edith asked Louisa once they arrived back in the drawing room.

She followed her friend to the drinks tray as Diana spoke with Nathaniel. “I suppose this is a ruse to speak with me privately?”

“I should like to know what you and our handsome viscount were whispering about at dinner and whether the conversation hastened his departure.”

“The man bowed to my demand and will bring the second carriage clock to me for inspection.” She paused. “He also asked if you’d discussed the clocks with your husband.”

“I will tell Nathaniel everything later this evening.”

“We need your help transporting the other clock to Carstairs.” She proceeded to tell Edith about her idea to utilize a hat box.

“How will I get a hat box to Cecil?”

Louisa thought a moment. “Perhaps the viscount could put the clock in something else, and when you are together, Lord Wycliffe can transfer it to the hat box.”

“A convoluted plan, but it could work. And when do you propose we bring the other clock to you for inspection?”

“The day after tomorrow. You will attend Lady Norfolk’s ball, will you not? Lord Wycliffe will attend as well. Leopold now sees the viscount as a marriage prospect, and to aid our investigation, I think Lord Wycliffe and I should take advantage of Leopold’s false impression.”

Edith raised a brow. “Cecil is a marriage prospect?”

“ Leopold is satisfied that the viscount’s financial hardships are merely rumors. I do not want to encourage the belief that Lord Wycliffe and I have an understanding, but it might allow the man to visit Carstairs without raising too much suspicion within the RA.” She let out a breath. “I suppose you must inform your husband that the viscount was in my bedchamber.”

Edith tugged at her earlobe. “I won’t tell Nathaniel if you don’t want me to.”

“You may tell him. I’m sure your husband will torment the viscount with the information,” she replied with a chuckle. “I will excuse myself and speak with you tomorrow evening. Will you need help dressing for the ball?”

Edith shook her head and winked. “My maid learned well under your tutelage. She will ensure I am presentable.”

* * * * *

“E xcellent.” Cecil studied his appearance in the Cheval mirror in one corner of his bedchamber. “I look quite the thing.”

His black coat was the first stare of fashion. He had a new wardrobe every year, whether he needed one or not. His tailor expected it, and Cecil didn’t want to disappoint the man.

High shirt points were currently in fashion, and he was glad. It was an excuse not to turn his head and engage in conversation more readily. And while at a ball, he wouldn’t be able to indulge his practice of drumming his fingers on a nearby table. Nathaniel had been the first to alert him to the annoying habit.

“Cecil!” Nathaniel had frowned at him across the table in the dining room at White’s.

“What?”

The baron sighed. “You’re not attending my words. I know because you’re drumming your fingers on the table.”

“Sorry, my friend.”

Returning his attention to the present, he took one last look in the mirror. Freshly shaven, his dark brown hair was cut longish in the prevailing style. A staunch advocate of the current fashion, he wore trousers instead of breeches, his white linen shirt contrasting nicely with a gray waistcoat and blindingly white cravat. His dress pumps were not new, as he attended balls rarely, and when pressed to do so, he appreciated a pair of broken-in pumps.

Cecil had never cared for his gray eyes. Shrugging, he turned from his reflection.

Lady Norfolk's residence was in Cavendish Square, and the lady was known to hold the most elegant ball of the season. She was a notorious matchmaker, second only to Lady Cairs, something he’d just now thought of to his chagrin.

There was nothing for it. Cecil would ensure he didn’t get too involved with Lady Louisa so that when they went their separate ways, she would not be injured. Lady Charlotte and Lady Edith were her friends and were married to his friends. He couldn’t have everyone angry with him.

Cecil was astonished Leopold saw him as a marriage prospect. Word must have circulated that he wasn’t as impoverished as he’d let on to convince the RA he was open to their overtures. Reopening the house in Town would lend more credibility to that idea. Did he care what Leopold thought? He would need to if he wanted to gain access to Louisa’s clock.

He felt for the pocket watch his brother had gifted him. He carried it near his heart in any jacket he wore.

Cecil’s father had died when he was seven years old. Wycliffe was sixteen and left Oxford to run the estates while their brother David was still in leading strings. For the next twenty years, Cecil had seen his eldest brother as a surrogate father. He had worshipped Wycliffe and thought he could do anything.

David had been more sheltered, being the youngest and the person their mother clung to after her husband’s death. Although his parents’ marriage wasn’t a love match, his mother had grieved her dead husband, wearing widow’s weeds for several years.

Cecil had once mentioned their mother's grief to Wycliffe.

“Our parents were married for several years. I imagine they were used to each other in a way. Like a comfortable pair of shoes.”

Was that what marriage was? Becoming used to each other and rubbing along well enough? David had married and produced an heir, effectively securing the continuation of the Wycliffe line. Cecil felt no great inclination to marry or have a family. His life was muddled enough, seeking his brother’s killer.

His mother wrote him once a fortnight from the estate in Yorkshire. After his brother’s death, Cecil closed the house in London and retreated to the north of England for a month to grieve. He’d also found an excellent land steward he trusted as the prior one was elderly and wished to retire to a comfortable cottage on the estate.

Once his responsibilities as the new viscount were taken care of, he’d returned to Town and started investigating the RA. When the Home Office showed no interest in what they deemed a fictional organization, Cecil promptly resigned from his position.

Satisfied with his appearance, Cecil exited his bedchamber.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Cecil told his butler when he entered the entry hall. “I might be rather late.”

He didn’t expect to be at the ball very long but planned to stop at one of the clubs for a decent meal. Perhaps it was time he thought about hiring an actual cook.

* * * * *

L ouisa entered the ballroom, anticipation causing her breath to quicken. Lord Wycliffe would attend the event, and they would spar. And dance. She wasn’t sure which activity she was looking forward to the most.

“Oh, my lady,” her maid had gushed earlier that evening, “You look beautiful.”

Even her mother had praised her. “Louisa, you are breathtaking.”

To Louisa’s astonishment, there had been no backhanded compliment attached to the statement. Edith and Nathaniel’s carriage arrived promptly at eight o’clock, and she was whisked away to Cavendish Square.

“Edith has told me of the plan you hatched with Cecil,” Nathaniel said when she entered the coach. “Please be careful, Louisa.”

Careful. With her clock or her heart? She was startled to realize her thoughts had strayed to imagining she could develop feelings for the viscount.

As soon as their party greeted their hostess at the ball, the squat baron approached Louisa for a dance. Lord Wycliffe had yet to arrive, so she agreed.

Louisa nodded while Lord Danner gasped out sentences during their set. A few minutes later, her attention was caught by the sight of the viscount standing beside Nathaniel at the edge of the dance floor. Lord Wycliffe was elegant in his evening wear, his slightly long hair lending a rakish air to his appearance.

Lord Danner deposited Louisa next to Nathaniel and then inquired about refreshments.

“Perhaps later,” she replied quickly, catching Lord Wycliffe’s gaze.

The viscount bowed. “Would you do me the honor, Lady Louisa?”

“It would be a pleasure, Lord Wycliffe.”

She put her hand on his jacket sleeve, and he led her to the floor. The feel of muscle under her fingertips was a stark contrast to the baron’s rather fleshy physique.

“Your baron is dancing attendance again this season, I see,” Lord Wycliffe said lightly.

She shrugged, glancing up at him. “I had hoped he might be discouraged from pursuing me after the many times I’ve turned down his proposals.”

“He asked to marry you?” the viscount frowned before his brow cleared.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” she replied dryly. “Three gentlemen proposed to me last season.”

“One set is sufficient?” the viscount asked as they joined a line for a country dance.

“Ample,” she replied in a low voice, feeling as if she’d been doused in cold water. Lord Wycliffe had reminded her that he danced with her only to gain access to her clock.

Louisa loved to dance, and very soon her mood lifted. Pleasantly surprised that the viscount was a more than capable dancer, she let the music wash over her and couldn’t help but smile at her partner.

After the country dance, they swung into a cotillion, followed by a scotch reel. Lord Wycliffe kept up admirably well and almost looked to enjoy himself. When the set was finished, they both clapped vigorously.

“I think it is time for some refreshment,” the viscount said as he took her arm and led her from the dance floor.

Edith was speaking with Nathaniel’s sister Alicia and Lady Kettering. Nathaniel was not in sight.

“Good evening, ladies.”

All three had glasses of punch, and the viscount left to fetch Louisa one.

“I can’t believe Lord Wycliffe was dancing,” Alicia said with a titter. “I wasn’t sure he knew how.”

“That is quite the coup, Lady Louisa.” Lady Kettering nodded to her. “I don’t believe I’ve seen his lordship dance in several years.”

Louisa felt heat on her cheeks as the other women stared at her, although she knew the viscount hadn’t danced with her because he’d wanted to. She was just a means to an end.

“Come along, Alicia,” Lady Kettering said with a smile. “There is someone you must meet.”

The two ladies moved away, and Lord Wycliffe returned with glasses of dark red punch.

“Thank you.” She cautiously took the glass from him, careful to avoid his fingers.

He nodded and sipped from his cup. “The only libation available this evening is Negus.”

Taking a drink, she grimaced. The punch maker had leaned too heavily on the lemon. Still, she was thirsty and continued sipping her drink, observing the nearby dancers to keep from staring at the viscount's handsome face.

“Make sure you bring flowers with you,” she said abruptly. “When you make your morning call, bring flowers.”

“But Lady Edith will be with me,” Lord Wycliffe replied in a low voice, bringing her gaze to him.

“You are to play the part of gentleman caller,” Edith countered firmly.

The viscount nodded. “Of course. Lady Edith, you’re bringing a hat box?”

“Edith, we must think of a reason for your bringing me a hatbox.” Louisa paused. “This is getting unwieldy. Lord Wycliffe, you visit Nathaniel in the morning and then offer to carry the hat box to Carstairs.”

“With flowers,” he replied wryly. “Why would I take flowers for you to Nathaniel’s home?”

She thought a moment. “Perhaps you need advice for the lovelorn.”

“Lovelorn?” Lord Wycliffe asked, knitting his brows.

“We should dance,” Edith said to the viscount quickly. “If we don’t, you will leave the ball having only danced with Louisa. We don’t want your interest in Louisa to be too marked. Cecil, you really must stay a while longer.”

The viscount nodded and finished his drink. He set his glass on a small table nearby. “If you will excuse us, Lady Louisa.”

When they had departed, two gentlemen approached her.

“How are you this evening?” a young man she believed to be Lord Nettles asked brightly.

“I am well. And you?”

“Excellent.”

There was a short silence.

“Would you care to dance?” the other gentleman, the second son of Lord Ely, asked.

“I would be delighted,” she replied.

She and her partner passed through two country dances next to Edith and Lord Wycliffe. By the time the set had ended, she was quite breathless.

Louisa begged off another request to dance as Edith and the viscount returned to her side.

“Until tomorrow,” Lord Wycliffe said with a bow and hastily departed.

Louisa had hardly a moment to think about his departure as she was approached by a lord with another glass of Negus and kept busy with dances for the next few hours.

The midnight supper was a welcome respite. “I don’t want to dance anymore,” Louisa whispered to Edith.

“It seems every gentleman wishes to escort you to the floor,” Edith replied with a wink. “Is it your dress or the attention from Lord Wycliffe?”

Louisa frowned, irritated to think her newfound popularity was due to the viscount. She was out of sorts and was afraid her melancholia had more to do with Lord Wycliffe’s exit from the ballroom than she cared to admit.