Page 4 of A Countess Never Tells

“Lord Ashwood? A rake!” Kitty’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not Lord Ashbrook?”

Phoebe shook her head so vehemently several of the small jewels that decorated her hair went flying. “No, my dear. Far from it. Lord Ashbrook is a very honorable gentleman. While Lord Ashwood…” She leaned toward Kitty and whispered, “Wicked, Kitty. A very wicked man, indeed.”

“But why did Lord Aldbury introduce him as Lord Ashbrook then?” Why would John’s friend betray her trust that way?

Shrugging, Phoebe dropped her gaze. “Perhaps he’s not so much your brother’s friend anymore. There’s no better way to revenge yourself against someone than by ruining their sister or daughter.” She frowned. “Or it might’ve been a wager. He could’ve been involved in something of the sort, and that’s why he introduced Ashwood with the wrong name.”

“What do you know of this Lord Ashwood, Phoebe?” Kitty turned her gaze back on this Lord Ashwood, her mind spinning. “Is he truly an evil gentleman?”

“Oh, my dear.” Phoebe’s eyes widened as she grasped Kitty’s arm and pulled her further away from her mother and Judith, now eagerly discussing the remedies for croup. “Ashwood has the most awful reputation. He’s ruined at least three young women of good families. And had liaisons with who knows how many ladies.”

Kitty’s breathing quickened. “Why was he not made to marry one of them?”

“From what I understand from Mama, the families attempted to get Lord Ashwood to come up to scratch, but he laughed and said he wouldn’t tie himself to a ninny who was no better than she should be. When he flatly refused to marry the first one, her family tried to keep it hushed up and married her off quietly to some local farmer or someone.”

“And no one called him out?” Kitty was more amazed at that than at Lord Ashwood’s bold refusal to wed.

Phoebe shrugged. “Apparently not. Perhaps he has a reputation with a sword or dueling pistol. I don’t know.”

“How does your mother know so much about the particulars of this young lady?”

“Her mother was a friend of a cousin of Mama’s. That is why Mama has forbidden me from even dancing with Lord Ashwood.” Phoebe gazed at the wicked lord, laughing with Maria Fitzhugh. “A pity, that. I mean, what could he actually do to a young lady in the middle of a ballroom? He’s not so depraved he’d try to ravish one in the midst of a dance, do you think?” Cutting her gaze over to Kitty, Phoebe raised her delicate eyebrows. “He didn’t attempt anything of the sort during your dance, did he?”

“Of course not.” Kitty was surprised he hadn’t attempted something if he had such notoriety. “He was a perfect gentleman. He had a rather exciting way about him, although I can’t tell you why I think that. Just an impression.”

“Well, I doubt anyone would call Lord Ashwood dull.” Phoebe chuckled quietly. She cocked her head. “What was he like as a dance partner?”

Kitty sighed. She had to give the handsome devil his due. “He was an exquisitely adept partner. So easy to follow, and once he began to speak of his travels in Italy…” Kitty sighed. “I fear was particularly enthralled by the fact he’d been there.”

“Oh, that’s right, Mama said he’d been banished after he ruined the third young lady. She too got married off, to an elderly gentleman who didn’t mind, I suspect.” Phoebe frowned, which should’ve made her look worse, not more lovely. “His mother doesn’t show her face during the Season. Poor lady.”

“If he’s so wicked, why is he still received in a house such as Lady Sutherland’s?” Anyone flouting Polite Society’s rules so brazenly usually wasn’t received anywhere.

Again, Phoebe shrugged. “I am not sure. I do not think they are related in any way. Perhaps his notoriety recommends him, although that wouldn’t be the case if he’s now trying to go about incognito as Ashbrook.”

Contemplating her brush with the wicked Lord Ashwood, Kitty looked up and smiled and curtsied as Lord Quatford presented himself to her. “Good evening, my lord.”

“Good evening, Lady Phoebe, Miss Tate. I hope you are both enjoying the evening?” His lordship smiled, a little crookedly, as he bowed to them then let his gaze rest on Kitty. “I am sorry to be tardy in presenting myself, Miss Tate. I was stopped by Lord Fauntleroy who insisted he had to speak to me about a bill in the Lords. What a thing to do at a ball.” He smiled ruefully. “Some people have no idea that entertainments are meant to be about enjoying oneself, not about working all the time.”

“In that you are correct, my lord. I hope Lord Fauntleroy takes your attitude to heart before he has occasion to detain you again.” As she looped her arm through his, Kitty’s enthusiasm dimmed somewhat. She knew exactly what kind of behavior to expect from Lord Quatford. She could always count on him to act like a gentleman. “Shall we head to the floor now, my lord? I suspect the set has formed already.”

“As you say, Miss Tate.” The gentleman hurried them forward.

Kitty sent a speaking look to Phoebe as they left. From her current partner, she might have nothing to fear, save death by boredom until the dance began. Was that to be the way of her evening? Tedium or scandal? She’d agreed to dance again with Lord Ashbrook…Lord Ashwood. Perhaps scandal would be an acceptable choice.

They arrived on the dance floor and took their places for a longways set. Good. She should have time to consider that second dance with Ashwood. To stand up with someone notorious in the ton wouldn’t be scandalous in itself. Lady Sutherland had seen fit to invite him, after all. And Kitty hadn’t been his only partner tonight, according to him. So there should be nothing wrong in dancing with him again. And knowing he was a rake would make the dance that much more exciting.

Smiling broadly at Lord Quatford, Kitty took his hand and began the familiar steps of “Grimstock,” well satisfied that she’d have something thrilling to look forward to later.

****

Lord Ashwood, Ash to his friends and any relations still speaking to him, glanced over his shoulder at Miss Tate conversing vigorously with Lady Phoebe Varley and shook his head. Miss Tate had likely just been informed of his true identity by the paragon. Considering the way his last partner’s bosom was heaving, she was completely outraged at his little deception. Innocent young ladies were often so distraught when duped in some way they burst into tears and ran from the room. Miss Tate seemed made of sterner stuff, however. She was staring directly at him, eyes wide as plates, all the way across the room. He might have to resign himself to a spirited refusal when he presented himself to escort her to the after-supper set. Pity, but the ploy had been a risk he’d had to take to be introduced to the lady.

He would have to thank Aldbury again for obliging him. The man’s friendship with Lord Haxby would suffer severely for such a breach of trust when Miss Tate apprised her brother of the scheme. But then, Aldbury should’ve known better than to wager against Ash in the recent horse race at Epsom. The only thing Ash knew more about than horses was seducing women. Only fools ever bet against him at the racetrack—at least more than once.

Not being in need of funds, Ash often amused himself by taking payment in other forms than coin of the realm—in Aldbury’s case, by having him introduce Ash to Miss Tate in the guise of that milksop Ashbrook. Ash’s own reputation was now so tarnished, he sometimes couldn’t meet the women he was most interested in, like Miss Tate. Soon after he’d returned to London, he’d seen her from afar at the theatre one night. Something about her aroused his interest as few other virginal ladies had done. Therefore, to assure himself of the introduction, he’d employed Aldbury and the subterfuge of Ashbrook. A more unexceptional gentleman didn’t exist in the current ton, making him the perfect disguise. If Miss Tate, or her family, had heard of Ashbrook, she’d have no reason to be suspicious of him or refuse the introduction.

The dance had assured him that Miss Tate was indeed a lady he’d like to pursue, and he hoped he could persuade her to keep their promised dance after supper.