The Fortune Hunter Page 0,45

husband were good friends, but I haven't seen much of him these past few years."

"Is he a knight or a baronet?" asked Aunt Lizzie.

"Just a knight. For services to the realm," Nell said, then winked. "Something to do with Prinny's debts."

Aunt Lizzie wrinkled her nose but said, "Still, it will not be intolerable to have you Lady Forbes, Amethyst. It will sound quite well at home. He spoke to me about an entertainment he plans. He did seem to be a man of sense and elegance. No doubt he will do."

"Let us not go too fast," protested Amy. "His interest may be no more than avuncular."

Nell Claybury chuckled. "I doubt any man's interest in you is merely avuncular, Miss de Lacy. I declare the temperature in those rooms rose five degrees as you passed. You must live an interesting life."

Looking out the carriage window at the dark streets, Amy made no reply. She did not find her life interesting. Now that the excitement of the evening was behind her, and a victim was singled out, she realized her life was intolerably bleak.

"Wednesday night is Almack's night," Chart chortled as he entered the handsome rooms he and Harry had taken in Chapel Street. With a man and wife to take care of domestic matters and Quincy and Gerrard to turn the young men out smart, they were very comfortable indeed. Or would be, he reflected, if Harry were his normal, lighthearted self.

Certainly Harry was acting the part tolerably well. He laughed at jokes and even told one now and then. He took interest in games of chance, pugilistic exploits, and salacious gossip. But there was a bitter edge to him that Chart had never seen before, and he was drinking too much.

Damn Amethyst de Lacy.

"Oh God," groaned Harry from where he sat slumped in a chair, cradling a glass of claret. "There'll be more than enough Wednesdays in the Season. I can't face it tonight."

"There are not that many Wednesdays in a Season," countered Chart firmly, "and when I talked my mother into getting us vouchers, I promised we'd be there tonight in case Clyta needs a partner."

Harry sighed and pushed up out of his chair. "Oh well, if it's for the lovely Clytemnestra."

"And for you," said Chart. "The sooner you settle on a bride the better."

"I've been doing the pretty at receptions and soirees for weeks, haven't I? Nothing but frightened sparrows and brazen hussies."

Chart restrained the urge to plant him a facer and knock some sense into him. "And which of those is my sister?"

Harry smiled, and looked for a moment like his old self. "Either a frightened hussy or a brazen sparrow. Has she decided quite what style she wants to develop?"

"No," said Chart with a sigh. "She's bold one moment and stammers the next. I hold it's the mixed influence of my eldest sister Cassandra, who has herself wrapped up so tight I'm surprised she can walk, and a lingering adoration of my scandalous sister, Chloe. At least with you there and Randal - for he's promised to attend - she won't be a wallflower."

"She won't anyway," said Harry. "She's a handsome specimen. Tell you what, Chart. Why don't I offer for Clyta? Solve all our problems."

"Over my dead body." Chart was as startled by his own words as Harry was.

The two friends looked at each other.

"May I ask why?" Harry asked coolly.

"Gads, I'm sorry," Chart said. "I didn't mean it like that. If you develop a fondness for her, nothing would please me more. But," he added firmly, "I don't want Clyta in a marriage of convenience. I'm sure they turn out damned inconvenient in the end."

Chapter 9

Harry danced with Clytemnestra Ashby twice and tried to induce by force a feeling of connubial warmth. It would be wonderfully convenient, but it didn't work.

She was a shapely young woman of average height and was blessed by a mass of dark curls, very fine blue eyes, and an excellent figure that could almost be called lush. She had looked womanly since she was fourteen, and now, with a coating of bronze, she could pass for a matron, which, in Harry's opinion was unfortunate. Inside this glittering shell she was clearly still the young, rather gauche girl he had so often encountered at Chart's home.

Her behavior, as predicted, wavered between overfulfilling the promise of her appearance or lapsing into a hot-cheeked awkwardness more suited to a schoolroom. Harry could understand Chart's protective concern. It would be easy for