Bedchamber Games Page 2

  Something inside Rosamund softened, touched by the genuineness of his words. For many, such an expression of sympathy would have been perfunctory at best, but she sensed that Lord Lawrence truly meant what he said. “Thank you, my lord.”

  She was thinking he was about to say more when Bertram appeared at her elbow, along with a tall beanpole of a man whose berobed arms flapped around him like a crow when he walked. The man smiled hugely at her as he took in the sight of her and Lord Lawrence standing together in conversation.

  “Oh-ho,” he said in a booming voice that seemed at odds with his scrawny build. “Finding your way already, I see. Good, good. I’m Stanley Partridge, by the by, and you must be Ross Carrow, or so your cousin here tells me.”

  He didn’t offer to shake hands, since it was against tradition for barristers to do so. Instead he grinned again and awaited her reply.

  To her profound relief, he seemed to accept without hesitation that she was precisely who she said she was—namely, a man. A tiny contrary part of her wondered if she ought to be offended that her transformation was being so easily believed. How could they not see that she was female? Then again, perhaps it was as Bertram said—people saw what they expected to see.

  “How do you do, Sir Stanley?” She bowed—another bit of male etiquette on which Bertram had instructed her. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Allow me to thank you for inviting me to join you here at Lincoln’s Inn. You are most hospitable, particularly given that I only lately arrived in the city.”

  “Oh, we barristers are a brotherly sort, as I’m sure you well know.” Partridge hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets and leaned back on his heels. “Bertram here speaks most highly of you. Course he would, seeing as he’s your cousin.” Sir Stanley took a moment to laugh at his own joke. “But clever newcomers are always welcome within our ranks, whatever their origins. Is that not so, Lord Lawrence?”

  Byron, who had looked on silently until now, nodded solemnly. “Indeed they are. Particularly when there are liberal libations to be had in honor of the occasion.”

  For a moment, no one spoke.

  Then Sir Stanley let loose a booming laugh. “Just as you say, my lord. Just as you say. What man doesn’t relish a good tipple, particularly when someone else is footing the bill?”

  Byron’s expression remained stoic, yet she couldn’t help notice the irreverent twinkle in his eyes. It made her wonder all the more just what sort of man lived behind his smoothly urbane facade. Clearly he was shrewd and knowledgeable, with a flair for subtle drama. She suspected he was unpredictable as well, in a manner that most likely regularly threw his opponents off their game. She abruptly decided she was glad she would never have occasion to oppose him in court. He must be the very devil to defeat.

  “But come, come, we must continue with your introductions, Carrow. Won’t do to monopolize His Lordship indefinitely. Lots of people to meet before the night is done.” Partridge gestured around the crowded room with a swipe of his long black-clad arm in a way that reminded her of a bat this time.

  Rosamund surveyed the assemblage of men and swallowed against a fresh rush of nerves. She exchanged glances with Bertram, who gave her a bolstering look of encouragement, then away again. As she did, she found Lord Lawrence’s gaze on her.

  Her natural instinct was to lower her own. But she knew that among men, such an action would signal weakness. And in this circumstance, she couldn’t afford to seem weak.

  Be a man, she told herself. Do what a man would do.

  And so she stared.

  He stared back.

  Subtly she lifted her chin.

  He arched an eyebrow.

  She forced herself not to blink.

  He didn’t appear to require blinking.

  “If you will excuse us, my lord,” Partridge said, unaware of the silent duel going on.

  Lord Lawrence stared a few moments more, then angled his gaze toward the other man, his demeanor as easy and in control as if the past few seconds had never occurred.

  “Of course, sir. Pleasure as always.” Byron inclined his head toward Partridge, then Bertram, who nodded back. Then he looked at her again. “Carrow. Good meeting you. I’m certain our paths shall cross again. London may be a big city, but the legal community is surprisingly small.”

  “As it ought. Until then, my lord.” She bowed shallowly.

  He returned the courtesy.

  Before anything more could be said, Partridge was herding her onward, while Bertram followed in their wake.

  As for Lord Lawrence, she knew better than to look back at him. Then she forgot him altogether as another round of introductions began.

  • • •

  Lawrence watched Ross Carrow walk away, uncertain exactly what it was about the man that provoked his curiosity. Carrow seemed intelligent and well-spoken, but then, barristers generally were as a breed—with the unfortunate exception of his cousin Bertram, whose reputation for awkward silences and stuttering preceded him wherever he went. Must be the reason he’d asked Ross Carrow to join him here in London. Undoubtedly he was trying to fill the great void left by his late father.

  Lawrence had been rather surprised by the flash of intense sorrow that had appeared on Carrow’s features when Elias Carrow was mentioned. Not that the other man shouldn’t be saddened by the death of his relation; it just seemed rather extreme for a relationship that must surely have been conducted at a great distance and between men of such disparate ages.

  Then again, what did he really know about the Carrow family? Nearly nothing, having met Elias fewer than a handful of times in passing and once when standing opposite him in court.

  Still, this new Carrow seemed curiously different from his cousin. Maybe it was his obvious youth and fine-boned features that set him apart. God knew the boy couldn’t need to shave more than once a week, his cheeks were so smooth. Nor could he be much past twenty, though considering the fact that he’d already completed his apprenticeship in the law and been called to the bar, he must have another two or three years on him at least.

  One thing for which Lawrence could not find fault was Carrow’s nerve. When he’d caught Carrow’s eye there at the end, something in him rose in challenge. In his experience, most men would have quickly looked away, defeated. But not Ross Carrow. Instead he’d stood his ground, assertive and unyielding and something more . . . something on which Lawrence couldn’t quite put his finger.

  And perhaps it was that quality alone that intrigued Lawrence the most, leaving him to wonder how formidable an opponent the younger man might be. Not that they were likely to have occasion to find out. Nevertheless, it might be amusing to go toe-to-toe with him in court and find out exactly how far Carrow’s nerve could take him.

  Smiling wryly at the idea, Lawrence turned away, intent on locating a fresh glass of wine before he made his way into dinner.

  Chapter 2

  “Where are you off to? It’s barely six o’clock—not time yet to leave for a ball.”

  Lawrence paused in the act of drawing on a pair of tan leather driving gloves and turned to look at his twin brother, Leopold, standing in the entrance hall of their town house in Cavendish Square.

  The two of them were identical, possessed of the same tall, athletic physique, golden brown hair, bold, masculine features and green-gold eyes—although in Lawrence’s case his eyes were more gold than green.

  “I’m not going to a ball,” Lawrence said as he resumed donning his gloves. “If you must know, I’m promised for dinner with a colleague.” Finished with the gloves, he reached for his beaver top hat and set it on his head.

  Leo raised an eyebrow. “A colleague, hmm? I’d have thought you’d had more than your fill of dry legal talk after that dinner at Lincoln’s Inn last night. Gah, what a bore that must have been.”

  Lawrence smiled softly. “It wasn’t so bad. Unlike you, I
like so-called dry legal talk and do not find it boring in the slightest. Amazing to think you actually studied law alongside me at university.”

  “Had to study something, now, didn’t I?” Leo grinned. “No, I far prefer my life these days—spending time with my wife, seeing to our estate and working on my new novel. Thalia says it’s even more fiendishly frightening than the last one.”

  Much to everyone’s surprise, except perhaps to Leo’s wife and Lawrence himself (they were twins, after all), Leo had put his previously unused talents to work at novel writing. Last year, he’d completed his first book, a lurid tale of intrigue, murder and mayhem that sent chills along the spines of everyone who read it. He’d even managed to find a publisher—although as a concession designed to keep from adding more notoriety to the already infamous Byron family name, he’d adopted a pseudonym. So far, Mr. B. Ron Delpool had made a tidy little profit in book sales with more apparently to come.

  Lawrence smiled. “If it’s half as good as the last, you’ll have another rousing success on your hands. So, when are you going to let me read it?”

  “When it’s finished and not a day sooner. She’s a far kinder critic than you are, you know.”

  “Only because she sleeps with you, dear boy. I’m under no such constraints.” Lawrence laughed.

  Leo shot him a dirty look, then joined him in laughing a few moments later.

  “Sure you can’t get out of your dinner tonight?” Leo said. “I promised Thalia I’d take her to the theater. Why don’t you join us?”

  “I’d love to, but it will have to wait for another occasion, I’m afraid. The man I’m meeting has some information he thinks might come in handy for an upcoming case of mine. Can’t afford to put him off.”

  “God, it’s a working dinner. That sounds even duller than I’d imagined. What’s happened to you, brother mine? You used to be so much fun.”

  “I’m still fun,” Lawrence said defensively.

  “No, you’re not, and if you aren’t careful you’re going to turn into a stodgy old man.” Leo shook a finger his way. “What you need is something to shake you out of your seriousness, some spot of trouble that will breathe new life into your soul.”

  “The last thing I need is to find myself in the basket like the pair of us used to do. It’s taken three bloody years, but I’ve finally managed to put talk about my arrest for public brawling behind me. I’m certainly not about to start it all up again and tarnish my reputation over some new peccadillo.”

  “Oh, your reputation was tarnished long before that, and yet you’re still regarded as one of London’s finest barristers. I shouldn’t worry overmuch about a new scandal causing you any great difficulty.”

  “I’m not going to be involved in any scandals. I’m done with such things.”

  “Done with scandals?” Leo gave a dismissive laugh. “But you’re a Byron. It’s what we do. Are you quite sure you’re my brother? Here, let me check to make sure you haven’t been replaced by a changeling in the night.”

  Before Lawrence could stop him, Leo reached out and pried one of Lawrence’s eyelids wider apart as if he was searching for signs of demonic possession.

  Irritated, Lawrence batted his twin’s hand away. “Stop that. You’re acting like an ass.”

  Leo snickered unrepentantly.

  “Who is acting like an ass?” asked a lilting female voice.

  Lawrence turned his gaze toward the stairs and the beautiful dark-haired woman descending from the landing above. The sapphire silk skirts of her evening gown whispered softly with each graceful step she took. As Lawrence watched, his brother’s eyes brightened with unconcealed love and pleasure. Lawrence was forgotten as Leo moved forward to take his wife’s hand and draw it to his lips. Thalia smiled back with a warm intensity that was almost too intimate to witness.

  No one looking at them could doubt the abiding depth of their devotion. Certainly not Lawrence, who knew firsthand the trials they’d faced in order to be together and how nothing short of death would ever be able to part them again.

  Lawrence averted his gaze in order to give them a few moments of privacy. On the occasions when Leo and Thalia came to London, they all lived here together in the spacious town house on Cavendish Square. Even so, that didn’t mean he liked playing the voyeur. Besides, it was strange sometimes seeing a man who looked exactly like himself exchanging amorous glances and more with a woman who was as near a sister to him as one of his own.

  Leo whispered something into Thalia’s ear and she laughed before swatting his chest with a playful hand. He dropped a brief, though thoroughly passionate kiss on her mouth before the two of them came back to their less than solitary surroundings and turned again toward Lawrence.

  “So, which one of you is the ass? Or need I ask, Leo, my love?” Thalia said, a smile still dancing on her lips.

  “Why, Lawrence, of course,” Leo declared with a mischievous wink. “Says he’s going to some deadly dull legal dinner tonight. Maybe you can convince him to change his mind.”

  Thalia shook her head. “Since I know he’s every inch as stubborn as you, I won’t bother trying. Although it would be lovely to have you join us, Lawrence. Charles Mayne Young is performing at Covent Garden this evening and is sure to be excellent.”

  “Much as I would enjoy accompanying you, I have important business tonight that cannot wait,” Lawrence replied. “I’m surprised some of our other siblings aren’t coming along with you to make a party of it. Esme and Northcote are still at Ten Elms with little Kyle, and Cade and Meg won’t come south from Northumberland until next month, but nearly everyone else is here for the Season, including some of the cousins. I suspect at least a few of them could be talked into a night of theatrical entertainment.”

  “Actually we begged off our invitation to the Packham soirée, to which I know Edward and Claire and Mallory and Adam are promised,” Thalia volunteered, referring to more Byron siblings and their spouses. “Leo and I are having dinner here and then joining my friend Mathilda Cathcart and her husband at the theater afterward.”

  “Drake and Sebastianne said they might join us,” Leo added, “but Drake is working on some new experiment, so I wouldn’t lay odds on them showing up.”

  “Nor I.” Lawrence smiled, thinking of his brilliant but absentminded older brother and his clever and infinitely patient wife.

  “Maybe we shall see you tomorrow night, then, or the next?” Thalia ventured.

  Lawrence shook his head. “I’ll still be preparing for a case. Then, later this week, I have dinner scheduled with Justice Lord Templestone at his house in Kew.”

  Leo frowned. “Baron Templestone, you mean? Phoebe Templestone’s father?”

  “Yes, the very same,” he answered, a note of challenge in his voice.

  Lawrence was quite familiar with his twin’s thoughts on the subject of Phoebe Templestone and Lawrence’s recent attentions toward her. After being introduced to the pretty blonde at the start of the Season, he’d danced with her at various balls and taken her driving once in the park. He knew rumors were circulating about the two of them and that more than one wager had been entered into the betting book at White’s Club. But then, he was generally linked with some debutante or other each Season, so it was nothing out of the common way.

  The surprising truth this time, however, was the fact that he was actually considering asking her to be his wife. It was no secret that Phoebe’s father harbored hopes of a match between them. After all, a marriage alliance with the Duke of Clybourne’s only remaining unwed sibling would be a prized feather in Templestone’s cap.

  Yet the advantages of a union with Phoebe Templestone would not be all one-sided. Her father was a high court judge, a powerful man in the field of law, who many thought would one day become the Lord Chief Justice of England. In the meantime, Carlton Templestone would serve as a valuable ally, able to aid Lawrence
in his goal of becoming King’s Counsel and a Serjeant-at-Law, then later ascending into the judiciary himself.

  Up to this point, however, Lawrence had taken great care not to display more than a polite and respectful interest in Miss Templestone. Until he was firmly decided whether to offer for her, he didn’t want to find himself caught in a matrimonial trap he couldn’t escape.

  As for the girl herself, she was young and sweet, a biddable eighteen-year-old with good manners and a moderate amount of talent playing the pianoforte. She would make a fine wife, especially for a barrister. Yet he was under no illusions as to his feelings for her.

  He did not love her and knew he never would.

  And therein lay the basis for his brother’s disapproval. It wasn’t Miss Templestone in particular of whom Leo disapproved; it was the fact that he knew Lawrence felt nothing warmer toward her than a modest liking.

  At first, Leo had paid scant heed to Lawrence’s attentions toward the girl, assuming he was just being kind because of her father. But when Lawrence had continued seeking her out at dances, Leo’s disregard turned to confusion, then concern, and more recently alarm.

  “You aren’t actually courting that girl, are you?” Leo had said confrontationally the day Lawrence returned from taking Miss Templestone out for a drive in Hyde Park at the height of the Fashionable Hour.

  “Possibly. I haven’t fully decided,” Lawrence had said as he sat in his favorite chair in his study. “Would it be so bad if I took a wife?”

  He wasn’t sure which of them had been more shocked in that moment—Leo for having his suspicions confirmed or Lawrence for admitting to the possibility.

  Over the next half hour, Leo had treated him to a highly uncharacteristic lecture on the subject of marriage, counseling that there was only one reason—and one reason alone—to wed, and that was love.

  Lawrence had listened quietly, making no great effort to disagree. He was fully cognizant of the fact that all seven of his siblings were madly in love with their spouses and had wonderful marriages. He knew too that they all believed he ought to wait and find a woman he genuinely loved. Yet always at the back of his mind was the question . . .