The Viscount Who Lived Down the Lane by Boyle Elizabeth

Author:Boyle, Elizabeth [Boyle, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, General, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9780062283825
Publisher: Harper Collins
Published: 2014-10-28T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

As Lady Aveley led Louisa through the crush of Almack’s, she continued her easy patter. “Ah, there is your sister. With Mr. Rowland. I suppose I should be relieved he is doing as Charleton instructed and dancing with her.”

“Lavinia is dancing?” The question bolted out of Louisa’s mouth and Lady Aveley slanted a questioning glance at her.

“Shouldn’t she be?”

Louisa bit her bottom lip. Oh, dear, how did one say something so embarrassing about one’s own sister?

Between the two of them, Lavinia made Louisa look like a ballerina.

“Miss Tempest?” Lady Aveley pressed, glancing back again at Mr. Rowland as he took Lavinia’s hand and placed it on his sleeve. “Is it Mr. Rowland who has you concerned? Don’t get me wrong, I could have wrung his neck when he acted as if Charleton was asking him to perform the most onerous of obligations—but it is good for him to do something respectable. And at the very least, see to his duty to his uncle.”

“Yes, well—” Louisa said, barely able to look over at her sister. “It’s just—”

Lady Aveley looked over there as well and at that moment, Mr. Rowland stumbled a bit. “Oh, no. I had hoped he wasn’t as—”

“He seems a bit unsteady,” Louisa remarked, flinching slightly as the baron’s heir wavered again.

“Unsteady? My dear girl, he’s drunk.” Lady Aveley looked ready to go fetch Lavinia off the dance floor, but right then the musicians began to play. The lady grimaced and turned her back to the dance floor. “Oh, I cannot watch!”

Louisa rather thought it a boon. Now if Lavinia stumbled over her own feet, perhaps everyone would blame Mr. Rowland.

“I should never have let Charleton insist on bringing him!” Lady Aveley declared, glancing over her shoulder at the couple, her mouth pursed into a tight frown.

“You don’t approve of him?”

“No, I do not. Most days. Oh, how that man charms his way back into society’s good graces each and every time he makes a muddle of things is nothing short of a miracle—but this is Almack’s of all places! If only Wakefield had come along with him.” She glanced heavenward as if she could conjure the viscount from thin air.

“Lord Wakefield?” Louisa asked, the name sending a shiver down her spine.

“Oh, you needn’t sound surprised. Believe it or not, he used to haunt this place when he was . . . well . . .” she said with a sigh. “I nearly died when Mr. Rowland announced in the carriage that he’d asked the viscount to join us. I will give Charleton’s heir this much—that took some nerve, bearding the lion in his own den, so to say. Still, it was cruel of him to ask, when he—”

“Cannot dance?” Louisa prompted.

“Yes, exactly.”

“I don’t want to dance, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the evening. I don’t think Mr. Rowland was being cruel in the least.”

After all, she’d asked him. And he’d refused her too.

“Perhaps. Then again, I don’t think Mr. Rowland would ever be deliberately cruel to Wakefield.

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