Page 35 of Inconvenient Honor
“What? He managed his assignment to escort Miss Thornton. I relieved him,” Richard said.
“His assignment? Am I furniture? A report? A piece of baggage to be transported?” Lily said hotly. She looked angry; he liked Lily angry. Anger gave her color; her chest heaved. He liked it very much indeed.
Enough Richard!He pulled his eyes from her heaving anger. “Nonsense,” he said, looking at his brother-in-law but addressing Lily. “You know the danger. The Foreign Office is responsible for Miss Thornton’s protection.” A fact that may surprise the foreign secretary.
“Checking up on us, Richard?” Andrew asked.
“Most affairs have guest lists. Your salon is, as you said, informal. I wanted to be sure Volkov didn’t slither in again.”
“Roger Heaton told me you had word Volkov has left London,” Lily said.
Roger Heaton talks too much.
“But not England,” he told her. He wasn’t going to tell her Volkov merely went to Portsmouth, sniffing about the docks and tavernsfor information.
The confusion in her eyes stabbed him. “He made no attempt to travel to Russia,” he said.
“Or Copenhagen?” she asked softly.
“No, not that either.” He wished he could wipe the worry from her face.
“Why didn’t you just come earlier? You could have helped Stewart defend the concessions we won at the Congress of Vienna,” Andrew said.
“Vienna settled everything—and nothing. There is nothing to discuss with amateurs. I had another engagement as your wife suggested.”
“Do tell,” Georgiana prodded.
“If you must know, I attended a dinner party with the Duke and Duchess of Lisle.”
“Sarah Wharton’s parents?” His sister laughed. “Are we to wish you happy?”
“Not yet,” he said, glancing at Lily.
“Mother must be impatient,” Georgiana said.
Richard grunted. “She will have to wait. I know my duty to the estate.”
“London watches you avidly,” his brother-in-law said.
“London will have to wait also. It’s time for me to escort Miss Thornton home.”
She looked like she might object.
Don’t be a fool, Lily.
She didn’t object until they descended to the Mallets’ front door and he gestured to the door of his waiting carriage.
“No, thank you. I prefer to walk, my lord. I’ll bid you good night here.” She turned to go.
Richard directed his coachman to wait in Bloomsbury Square and caught up with her in two strides.Stubborn woman.
He winged his arm at her, but she hesitated before taking it.
“I suppose I have no choice,” she said when she reached accepthis arm, her tiny hand white on his black jacket. She walked in silence.
“You are well?” he asked.
“Quite,” she replied.
