we had best meet in private.’ He did not look at Sarah.
Sarah shook off Lady Henslowe’s arm. ‘No, there is no need, I can explain…Lord Huntington has done nothing…he only wished to help me!’
‘The rogue tried to seduce her!’ Henslowe said.
‘It is not true!’ Sarah glared at him. His mouth fell open.
The look Lord Monteville turned on her was not unkind. ‘My dear child, it is best that you go in. You are undoubtedly cold. Penelope can take you in and find your shawl.’
‘Oh…oh, yes!’ Lady Henslowe, who had been watching in stunned silence, sprang to life. ‘My dear, come with me.’
Sarah allowed Lady Henslowe to take her arm without protest. It was no use arguing with her grandfather. She had seen that look too many times to know that any sort of resistance was in vain. She only prayed that he would talk Huntington out of the ridiculous notion he must marry her.
Dev stepped past Monteville into Henslowe’s private study. A candle on the massive mahogany desk cast a dim light in the dark panelled room. Monteville closed the door and moved to the sideboard. He poured two glasses of brandy and held one out to Dev. ‘I believe this might be in order.’
Dev accepted the glass. Apparently Monteville had no intention of calling him out, at least not yet. Despite the Earl’s age, he was reputed to be a master with a sword. Although Dev possessed no mean skills in that regard, he had no desire to duel with a man several decades his senior. He took a neat shot of the liquor, its warmth burning down his throat, then turned his gaze on the Earl.
Monteville watched him without touching his own drink. Although in his mid sixties, he was still a formidable presence with a lean, upright figure and a pair of piercing grey eyes. Now they were fixed on Dev. ‘So, Lord Huntington, perhaps you will explain the little drama in the garden and Lord Henslowe’s rather confused desire to either evict you from his house or run you through.’
Dev set his glass down and looked directly at Monteville. ‘He believes I tried to ravish or seduce your granddaughter. I am not certain he’s yet decided which.’
‘And did you?’
Dev scowled. ‘No.’
‘Then perhaps you will enlighten me as to what did happen.’ He looked merely curious, a sign Dev found more disconcerting than all of Henslowe’s blustering.
‘Lord and Lady Henslowe found us alone in the garden,’ Dev said.
Monteville raised a brow. ‘And was that all? Although secreted alone in a dark garden is somewhat improper, I cannot quite fathom how the position could be described as damnably compromising. I would imagine a man with your intelligence could come up with a plausible explanation for your, er, situation.’
‘My hand was at her breast,’ Dev said bluntly.
Monteville’s brow shot up further. ‘Ah, I can see that might present a more delicate dilemma. I trust you had a reason for doing so?’
‘I was attempting to remove a brooch. She needed it to repair a tear in her bodice.’ He would not have been surprised if Monteville demanded satisfaction. Even to his own ears the explanation sounded feeble.
‘And precisely how did that tear come to be in her bodice?’
He had no intention of revealing Blanton’s role. ‘I haven’t the damnedest idea. I did not do it if that is what you wish to know. I have every intention of marrying her,’ he added stiffly.
‘Why?’
‘Because I’ve no desire to be held responsible for seducing your granddaughter.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘There’s enough tension already between our families—it would probably make the Battle of Waterloo look like a tea party.’ He fixed Monteville with a hard look. ‘Nor do I intend to let my damnable sins interfere with my sister’s happiness. Henslowe has not only made it clear I’m not welcome here, but he would stop the marriage if he could.’
Monteville moved towards the sideboard and set down his glass and picked up the decanter. ‘More, my lord?’
‘No.’
He set the decanter down. ‘I am still at a loss to know exactly why you were in the garden with Sarah?’
‘I saw her quit the ballroom, and when it was time to go into supper, she still had not returned. I decided to look for her.’ He undoubtedly sounded like a complete fool or a liar.
‘I see.’ Monteville looked at him. ‘Tell me, my lord, do you hold any fondness at all for my granddaughter?’
Dev nearly staggered back. It was the last question he’d expected from the man. ‘I hardly know her.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I fear our relationship could best be characterised as an armed truce.’
‘Quite understandable under the circumstances,’ Monteville said. He looked at Dev carefully. ‘You see, I have had a rather interesting evening. Shortly before I joined your little party in the garden, another gentleman, who, er, claimed he had also been alone with my granddaughter, accosted me, saying they had been interrupted by a witness who would have no scruples in spreading the tale about that he’d seen my granddaughter and this gentleman locked in an embrace. Under the circumstances, the gentleman seemed to feel I was obligated to give my consent to a match between himself and my granddaughter.’
Cold fury rose in Dev. ‘You may rest assured that his witness would sooner sell his soul to the devil than spread such tales about. Nor was the embrace willing, at least not on your granddaughter’s part.’
‘I thought not,’ Monteville said. He continued to regard Dev with his bland gaze. ‘I am concerned for her happiness. I would not want her marriage to you, for instance, to be a notch better than a marriage to this other gentleman.’
Dev had the sudden image of her struggling in Blanton’s embrace. He took a step towards Monteville. ‘If you want her happiness, then keep her away from Blanton. I wouldn’t allow a dog in his care, much less a woman. He would make her miserable. At least, I would not—’ He realised Monteville was regarding him oddly. It would not do to let anything but cool logic show. He frowned. ‘I will not make her unhappy,’ he added stiffly.
‘I trust not,’ Monteville said. ‘She has a kind and generous heart. I would not want that changed.’ His eyes had lost their bland indifference and Dev suddenly knew why Monteville could be such a formidable enemy.
‘No.’ Dev understood. He would not hesitate to strangle any man that dared to hurt his sister Jessica.
‘Good,’ Monteville said softly. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘It is late. I suggest we continue this conversation in the morning. By the way, did you give my granddaughter any indication of your intentions?’
‘Yes. She was not pleased.’ An understatement. She had looked as if he’d said he was going to imprison her.
Monteville’s mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile. ‘I imagine not. You will need to pay your addresses in the more conventional manner. You will call tomorrow.’ He moved towards the door, indicating the conversation was finished. He paused and looked back at Dev. ‘And if you are wondering where you are to sleep
