Butterflies flooded Deborah’s stomach as Lady Yardley immediately turned to look at her.
“I can ask him to wait, Miss Madeley.” Lady Yardley rose from her chair, coming towards Deborah. “We can finish our conversation and once you have taken your leave, I might then speak to Lord Brookmire alone.”
Deborah immediately shook her head, cutting off Lady Yardley’s concerns.
“It is quite all right, Lady Yardley. Of course he may join us.”
Much to her annoyance, however, her stomach immediately began to swirl with a nervousness which she had not expected. The moment that even Lord Brookmire’snamewas mentioned, it sent such a swell of nervousness through her, it was as though tiny birds were flapping their wings frantically in her stomach. Straightening her shoulders, she chased away those birds with a firm shake of her head before making her way back to her chair, her hands clasped lightly in front of her.
“So long as you are certain.”
Lady Yardley nodded to the butler, indicating that Lord Brookmire should be shown in. It only took a few moments, but soon Lord Brookmire walked directly into the room, and thereafter both Lady Yardley and Deborah greeted him with a quick curtsey.
“Miss Madeley.” Lord Brookmire inclined his head towards her again, his hands going behind his back. “Forgive me, I did not know that you were with Lady Yardley. I would be more than happy to return at another time so that your visit with her is not interrupted.”
Deborah shook her head.
“There is no need to do so, Lord Brookmire.” She resumed her seat. “I have already said that I would be glad to aid you, and I suppose that this meeting is rather fortuitous, therefore, rather than being a disruption.”
She offered him a slightly wry smile, and in response, Lord Brookmire released such a long breath of relief that Deborah was surprised to hear it. Obviously, something had occurred, and the gentleman was eager to share it with Lady Yardley, seemingly now overwhelmed with relief that he would be able to speak of it immediately, instead of being forced to wait.
“Please do be seated.”
Lady Yardley indicated for the gentleman to sit near Deborah, and he did so at once, though he now seemed not to know where to rest his eyes. His gaze landed on everything around the room rather than settling on any one object, or indeed any one person. He would not look directly at Lady Yardley, and now would not even so much as glance at Deborah. The longer they waited, the more awkward the silence became. Deborah shared a look with Lady Yardley, but the lady herself only smiled briefly and then looked again towards Lord Brookmire. Perhaps she was well used to this, or simply a good deal more patient than Deborah! She seemed quite content to wait for Lord Brookmire to speak, for him to gather his thoughts into order so that he might share whatever it was which had taken place.
Deborah, however, was much too impatient indeed, so desperate for Lord Brookmire to speak that she had to curl her hands tight into fists to contain her questions. Lord Brookmire sighed heavily again, ran one hand over his eyes, and then, much to Deborah’s relief, began.
“I confess that I feel myself to be a fraud to come and speak to you both in this manner.” Lord Brookmire shook his head, letting out his breath through clenched teeth, his eyes still averted. “You both know that I am a gentleman of poor reputation. Last summer I did as I pleased and I had every intention of doing the same this Season. I had been warned by Lord Marchmont about my reputation, but I ignored him, quite determined that I cared nothing for being declared a scoundrel. But now that I find myself having been tricked by someone who bears that claim also, I am faced with dark consequences as a result of my own behavior. I find now, because of that, I must acknowledge my own selfishness in a way that I have not done before. When I consider the wager, and all that Lord Anderton has asked me to do, all I see is my self-interest and pride. It is as though I have been standing before a dark and dusty mirror that has not allowed me to see myself as I truly am. Now, however, the mirror is beginning to become clear and I am not delighted with what I face.” Scowling, he dropped his head forward, his voice low. “I have a great deal to consider as regards my own character, and the reputation which I know I hold. I say this not so that you will be impressed with my determination nor in the hope that, by the end of it all, you will think better of me, but simply because I wish to be truthful.” His hands fell to either side of the chair. “Iama scoundrel. Iama rogue and for the first time. I am not certain that I am glad for those words to be associated with me.”
Deborah did not know what to say. Certainly, Lord Brookmire appeared to be more than genuine, but surely she knew better than to simply believe him? Her mother’s whispers ran through her, reminding her that rogues and scoundrels took what they wanted and said what they pleased, particularly when they wanted to be believed. To her surprise, however, Lady Yardley was the one nodding, as though she already believed Lord Brookmire’s words, despite the fact that she herself knew all too well of his reputation.
“You do have a great deal to consider, Lord Brookmire.” Lady Yardley’s voice was calm and clear. “Unfortunately, that is not something I, nor Miss Madeley, can aid you with. Your reputation - or lack thereof - is entirely your own matter, but if there is something more you would wish to share with us, then please do so now.”
At that moment, the tea tray was brought in, and Deborah offered to pour for Lady Yardley. She did so carefully, considering what Lord Brookmire had said, and glancing at him when she set the tea before him. Lord Brookmire himself appeared most distressed, for he was still glancing away from her; his eyes were heavy with shadows and his forehead lined. He only gave her a brief murmur of thanks, as if he were distracted by his thoughts, swamped by all that he thought and felt. For the first time, a measure of sympathy warmed Deborah’s heart. She tried to chase it away, but it only grew, demanding that she feel something more for this gentleman.
“Thank you, Deborah.” Lady Yardley smiled then looked to Lord Brookmire, lifting an eyebrow as she did so. “Now, Lord Brookmire. What is it that Lord Anderton has said to you?”
Lord Brookmire’s voice remained low.
“Lord Anderton approached me only an hour ago. I was in White’s and he appeared by my side, demanding that we speak together. I do not know whether he had been looking for me, or simply happened upon me, but regardless, he has made himself quite clear.”
Unable to help herself, Deborah spoke up.
“And what is it that you are to do?”
Finally, Lord Brookmire turned his green eyes to hers, eyes which lacked any sort of sparkle or glint. There were smudges beneath them and his face paled as he began to explain.
“I am to steal away Lady Jemima from the gentleman who is courting her at present.”
His jaw tightened as he dropped his gaze to the floor.
“But – but why?”
The horror which filled Deborah’s voice must have made its way to Lord Brookmire’s ears, given how badly he winced.
“I do not think that Lord Anderton has any reason other than the sheer dark delight, of damaging other people’s lives.”
“Does he know either party well?” Lady Yardley asked, but Lord Brookmire shook his head.
