"I hadn't seen your father for many years," he said. "The war curtailed many friendships."
"I came back to fetch Dante," Chloe informed him
cheerfully, for once too intent on her own plans to notice Hugo's abstraction. "We're going to take him for a walk in Green Park."
"Did you leave your female companion outside the door?" Hugo queried, raising his eyebrows. "How very impolite, Chloe."
There was an awkward silence, then young Lord Ben-tham said, "Fact is, sir, m'sister was to have accompanied us, but she developed a scratchy throat this morning, and it wasn't thought wise for her to go out in the cold."
"No, I quite understand that," Hugo said. "And I'm sure you'll understand if I ask you to excuse us for a few moments while I have a little talk with my ward."
Without waiting for a response, he swept Chloe into the library and closed the door on her three escorts.
"You're going to be stuffy," Chloe stated.
"It won't do," he said firmly. "I'm sorry, I know you think it ridiculous, and so to a certain extent do I, but you may not racket around the town in the company of a gaggle of young men. Why don't you persuade one of your girlfriends to join you?"
"It's not so amusing," Chloe said with disarming candor.
Hugo was betrayed into a half-smile. He guessed that after ten years in the unrelieved company of her own sex, his ward was finding the devoted attentions of the male thoroughly diverting.
"So I may go?" she said, seeing his expression soften and drawing the wrong conclusion.
"No, you may not."
"Dante needs the exercise," she tried with a hopeful smile.
"Then you'll have to endure my dull company, lass."
"You aren't dull," she said. "But…"
"But I'm not three young men making sheeps' eyes at
you." He shook his head. "Go and give your swains their tickets of leave and then come back. There's something I have to discuss with you."
Disappointed but resigned, Chloe did as she was told and came back to the library.
"How would you like to be a duchess?" Hugo asked.
"Not at all," she replied promptly. "Alresford?"
He nodded. "Consider for a minute, Chloe. Apart from the title, he's young, good-looking, rich. Alresford Castle is one of the stateliest homes in the land. The mansion in Berkeley Square-"
"But I don't want to marry him." Chloe interrupted the catalogue of her suitor's virtues with the simple statement.
Hugo sighed. "And you don't want to marry Viscount Bartlett, or Charles Knightley, or the Earl of Ridgefield."
"No," Chloe agreed.
"I don't think you realize, lass, that when you have practically every eligible bachelor in the ton at your feet, you have an obligation to accept one of their offers."
"I don't see why."
"Because that's the way Society works," he said, losing patience. "You insisted on having a come-out so you could find a suitable husband, and now you reject anyone who has the temerity to offer for you. What do you want'"
You. Chloe shook her head. "I'll know when I find it."
Hugo massaged his temples. "And in the meantime, you risk ruining your reputation with hoydenish excursions in the company of lads who have more money than sense."
"At least they don't pester me to marry them," she said. "They're not interested in marrying yet. And I'm enjoying myself. You told me I was to do so."
"Don't chop logic with me, young Chloe. These un-chaperoned expeditions have got to stop."
"But you can't expect Lady Smallwood to accompany me. She couldn't possibly keep up."
"I expect you to engage in the kind of activities at which your chaperone can keep up," he declared. "I am very serious, Chloe."
"Oh, very well," she said. "May I go now? They're waiting for me in the drawing room. We're going to play charades, since we mayn't go out."
Hugo waved her away, shaking his head in defeat. At least a game of charades, however rowdy, could be supervised by his cousin.
But what of Denis DeLacy? The latest recruit to the ever-widening circle of admirers.
Taking his hat and cane, he left the house, walking briskly as he mulled over the situation. If DeLacy knew of the duel, then it was conceivable that he would tell Chloe. But why should he? There was no reason he should bear Hugo any grudge and nothing to be gained by such a revelation. He must have been a child of four or five at the time of Stephen's death.
But what if he did tell Chloe?
Hugo walked faster down Bond Street. It was unthinkable that Chloe should hear from a stranger the story of her father's death at the hands of her guardian… her lover. He had her absolute trust, and he would lose that-how could he help but lose it'
So should he tell her himself? Forestall any possibility of her hearing it from someone else? But he couldn't endure the thought of laying bare such a story. He would have to tell her of the crypt… of the hideous ugliness of his early life. He couldn't possibly sully her innocence with such a tale.
So how great was the danger she might hear it from someone else?.
Jasper might tell her. Yes, he could imagine Jasper taking great pleasure in sowing such dissension and de-
straying all trust between his young sister and the guardian he resented so deeply. But he could outma-neuver Jasper. There was no way Chloe was going to have anything to do with either her brother or his stepson.
Frowning, Hugo decided that a few well-placed questions should give him some idea of what young DeLacy knew. If he felt there was any danger, then he'd have to remove Chloe from the young man's orbit.
That settled, he went through the doors into Jackson's Saloon. Gentleman Jackson was supervising a couple of young bloods sparring, but left them and came over to greet the new arrival.
"Practice, Sir Hugo? Or do you fancy a bout?"
"If you'll give me a couple of rounds, Jackson."
"With pleasure, sir."
Hugo went into the changing room, well aware of the honor done him by Jackson, who sparred only with those of his clients he considered sufficiently skilled.
Marcus Devlin wandered over to watch the bout. No mean exponent of the sport himself, he was impressed by Hugo Lattimer, who managed to score several hits on the master.
"How's the beautiful philanthropist?" Marcus asked as they went together into the changing room afterward.
"Indomitable," Hugo said. "But at the moment she's making me feel old and tired. When I left, my house was filled with slavering young men playing charades."
"No suitors in the offing?"
"She won't have any of them," he said ruefully, toweling his head.
"Come to Berkeley Square and share a bottle of burgundy," Marcus suggested as they left the boxing saloon. "My wife might be able to suggest some stratagem to encourage Miss Gresham to the altar. She's really taken to Chloe. That unconventional streak rather
strikes a chord." He chuckled, remembering how Judith and her brother had cut a gleeful swath through the convention-ridden world of Society on both sides of the Channel. She'd certainly turned himself, a thoroughgoing stick-in-the-mud, away from the paths of strict righteousness.
Hugo accepted the invitation readily. Lady Carrington had stood a good friend to Chloe and, he suspected, was instrumental in smoothing the ruffled feathers of the highest sticklers when her unconventional ways drew censure.
To his surprise, he found Chloe and Lady Smallwood in Judith's drawing room. True, she was surrounded by a circle of swains, including the three he'd left in his house, but there was nothing to take exception to. He greeted his ward with a brief smile and bent to kiss his hostess's hand.
Judith smiled warmly at him and patted the seat beside her. There was something about him that she found immensely attractive. It was the little lines around his eyes, she thought, and the slight world-weariness of his countenance, as if he'd seen everything and done everything and found it all wanting.