The Captivating Lady Charlotte (Regency Brides: A Legacy of Grace #2)(15)

As his butler helped remove his coat, William said, “How long have they been waiting, Travers?”

“Not more than a half hour, sir.”

“Perhaps if you send in tea, I will exchange this for something more fitting to her ladyship’s taste.”

“Very good, sir.”

William hurried up the steps, and under Jensen’s ministrations he’d soon been made presentable enough to satisfy even the highest stickler of Almack’s patronesses—which should placate her ladyship. To give Pamela her due, she had ensured William’s dress was up to a Brummel-like standard, her eye for fashion something she’d inherited from her mother. And he had no intention to further antagonize his mother-in-law by meeting her in anything but what she would approve.

He descended the steps and entered the Blue Drawing Room.

Two dark heads glanced up, the viscount’s corpulent features twisting in dislike, which proved a mild expression compared to that of the viscountess, whose sneer was another, rather less beneficial quality Pamela had also inherited.

William bowed. “Good afternoon, my lord, my lady.” He refrained from adding anything of welcome or pleasure in their visit. He would not lie.

“Hartington.” There was the merest scraping of bows.

“You did not hurry to greet your guests, I see,” the viscountess said.

“I was unaware I was to expect guests today,” he offered mildly.

“Hmph!”

The viscount shifted his considerable weight. “A most disturbing report has reached our ears.”

William maintained his cool look, only permitting himself the smallest rise of a brow. He was well aware of how his mildness had always irritated Pamela, and by default her parents, and saw no reason to change. His had never been a disposition given to histrionics—yet another fault of which Pamela had been wont to accuse him.

“I see you refuse to oblige us by sharing the truth, as usual.” Lord Clarkson’s brow lowered in a ferocious scowl. “I had hoped better of you by now.”

Anger surged. How dare they accuse him of lying? He—who unlike their daughter—had never deceived a soul! “Surely your fixed belief in my supposed lack of scruples must have some bearing on your refusal to accept my veracity.” He fought the curl of his lip. “I rather think you’d say I misspoke if I said the sky was blue.”

The viscountess frowned, but then, unlike perfect dress sense, logic had never been her forte. “You … you …” Her fingers clenched like angry claws. “Is it true you engaged in a duel?”

He blinked. How had they heard? “I beg your pardon?”

“There are rumors flying all around London that the Duke of Hartington was engaged in a duel to avenge his wife’s honor!”

Dear God, he hoped not! He hoped his mother-in-law’s gift for exaggeration was in play as per usual. Aiming for nonchalance, he settled back in his seat, crossing his legs in a languid gesture. “Is that so?”

“Is that—? Is that all you will say of the matter?”

“What would you prefer me say, madam?”

She made a sound suspiciously like a snarl before gesturing for her husband to continue the inquisition.

“For goodness’ sake, Hartington, is it true?” Clarkson cried. “Did you or did you not engage in a duel against Lord Wrotham?”

He paused. Swallowed bile. “I did.”

Identical gasps were matched by two pairs of rapidly paling cheeks. The viscount swore softly. “I never would have imagined that you of all people would countenance such a thing!”

He wasn’t the only one, William thought sourly.

“I can scarcely credit it.” Lady Clarkson fanned herself. “To avenge poor Pamela’s honor?”

“To avenge mine.”

Conciliation disappeared in her twin orbs of steel. “Surely you are not suggesting our daughter was anything but virtuous?”

“Again, your refusal to believe anything but what you wish is most impressive.”

“How dare you accuse her of such things?”

“I dare, madam, because I saw Lord Wrotham exiting her bedchamber at such an early hour and in such a state of dishabille, one can only assume they had not spent their time talking.”

“No!”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“You lie!”

“And why would I make up something of such sordid nature? It gives me no pleasure, I assure you. I wish your daughter had been faithful—”

“Don’t be so ridiculous! Pamela was well aware of her obligations.”

Disgust roared through him. “Forgive me. I did not realize marriage vows were but obligations.”

She snorted. “You portray yourself as a man of sense, yet believe such things? I never took you for such a fool! Did you speak with her?”

“Of course I did, and of course she denied everything. But would you have me deny what I saw with my own eyes?” The anger surged anew. “Would you have me deny the fact she never once sought my company this past year? Instead, she had a veritable cavalcade of young men she was seen with.” Army officers, marquesses, viscounts, all more handsome, all more charming and engaging than him. “Did the gossips tell you that?”

Their faces pinked. So perhaps whispers concerning their daughter had reached their ears.