The Baron’s Dangerous Contract

by Archer, Kate

  But that was all.

  As he was not to have that opportunity, what care he over who took his place? What matter if it were Burke?

  “Bad form taking Miss Dell into supper,” Grayson said next to him. “You very well know I favor the lady.”

  “I had not the slightest preference in it,” Henry said. “Mendbridge as much as ordered me to.”

  “Did he?” Grayson said. “Ah well, a ruse to keep me away I’ll reckon. Fathers and guardians do tremble at the sight of me.”

  “If they tremble,” Lord Dalton said, joining them, “it is only to fear that you are in danger of ceasing to breathe on account of a diabolically tied neckcloth cutting off your windpipe.”

  Both Henry and Lord Grayson ignored Lord Dalton’s barb, Grayson being entirely immune to insults over his careful dress and Henry finding he could not care less.

  Grayson spotted Miss Sassbury across the room. He headed speedily in that direction.

  “I supposed Mendbridge forced you to take the first with Miss Darlington?” Lord Dalton asked Henry.

  “In fact, he did,” Henry said. “Though I had rather have taken supper. Miss Darlington still seethes and I do not like it. I would not like it for anybody to think so little of me.”

  “Well,” Dalton said, slapping his friend on the back. “Mendbridge is a sly old fox. Do not think for a moment that his bumbling appearance has any foundation in truth. He knows what he’s about.”

  “What is he about?” Henry asked. He had been sure that Lord Mendbridge had not been about anything other than being his jolly and rather oblivious self.

  “There has been talk that there is an announcement regarding Miss Darlington’s future in the offing,” Dalton said. “Considering how often you squired the lady to supper over the last two seasons, I can see how he would wish to avoid that picture going forward. Ah, there is Crimpleton. I need to ask him about his views on the bets being laid. He can be uncanny at times.”

  Dalton strode away, leaving Henry standing alone. He glanced behind him and saw Miss Darlington and Miss Dell talking to Burke.

  Of course, Burke. That was the announcement in the offing. He’d known it since the night of that first dinner. It was a match that would please everybody. Including, as it looked just now, Miss Darlington herself.

  It was all wrong, though. Burke did not suit Miss Darlington. Oh, naturally, everybody would say otherwise. Burke had a fine stable and was a respected horseman. What better match for Miss Darlington? Then, he was to be a duke so his prospects could hardly be better. And, if Henry were forced to admit it, Burke had a pleasant temperament. Burke was not likely to be rude to a lady and then be left to figure out why he’d done it and how to redeem himself.

  An awful feeling crept over Henry as he stood at the edges of the ballroom floor, hardly cognizant of the swirls of people around him.

  It should be him. It should be Henry Roland, Viscount Cabot and son of the Duke of Wentworth for Miss Darlington.

  How could he not have seen it was so!

  Chapter Nine

  Henry swallowed hard, his throat suddenly gone tight. He had just wondered how he had not seen that it must be him for Miss Darlington. But he had seen it, somewhere in his stupid mind. He’d known all along. He supposed he’d thought, well he probably ignored the idea because…well because there seemed to be no hurry. Why examine a thing when there was no need to decide? Why not just go along pleasantly? There had seemed to be time, endless amounts of time.

  That idea of endless amount of time had suited him. He’d agreed with his friends that they ought not go hurtling into marriage so soon. They ought to go on as they were, very pleasantly as it happened, and then at some point they would marry. They’d all seen the sense in it.

  He still remembered that first day he’d laid eyes on Miss Darlington. He’d ridden through Hyde Park and passed a lady merrily reining in a spooked horse. The scene had startled, none of it as it should be. The horse was far more enormous than one would expect for a petite lady. Rather than shrieking in a panic, she laughed as she wrestled the animal back under control. Her copper curls bounced as she masterfully worked the reins and held her seat. The horse’s nostrils had flared and the beast gave one more back kick before settling, all the while the lady goodhumoredly scolding her mount for being a ninny over an errant squirrel.

  Then, he had realized it was Mendbridge himself who escorted this veritable Epona and instantly surmised that the lady must be his daughter. He had seen to it that they were swiftly introduced.

  It was not a day later that he had boldly put himself down for supper at the Tremane’s ball. Since then, it had been a regular thing, except for those times when Burke or some other man had beat him to it.

  Now Burke had beat him to it for the rest of his days. Burke had not assumed he’d got endless time. The engagement would be announced any moment. My God, it might even be announced before they left Newmarket.

  Though Henry had been flummoxed to understand how Hampton, Lockwood, and Ashworth had found themselves married when they all swore they had no notion of it, now he began to see how it had happened to them. They had suddenly realized the truth of it. The only difference between him and his three friends is that they had realized in time while he had not.

  If he’d never said those hateful things to Miss Darlington, he wondered if Burke would have got his chance. As it was, he’d laid the groundwork himself.

  What a fool he’d been! How had he ignored the fact that nobody would suit him as Miss Darlington would? Why on earth would he think there was all the time in the world? Had he ignored the existence of other rivals altogether? Had he not bothered to wonder if Miss Darlington was in agreement with him over endless amounts of time?

  The music struck up, shaking Henry from his awful realizations. He had taken the first with Miss Darlington and he must at least get through it creditably. He may have singlehandedly ruined his chances at happiness, but he must at least hold on to his dignity.

  That was the main thing. He could never let on that he cared one way or the other. My God, he could not bear the humiliation of being seen as a lovesick idiot who’d been passed over. The moniker would never leave him. Worse, he was friends with Burke. He would see them both regularly over the years. How could he bear noting Burke shaking his head in pity when he thought he was not observed? How could he countenance finding invitations to Burke’s house had dried up because his lady felt it was awkward?

  He already skated dangerously on that pond of thin ice—his attentions to Miss Darlington over the past two seasons had been marked. And, remarked, no doubt.

  No. Nobody was ever to know anything about it. He must show that it was nothing to him. Nothing at all.

  *

  Lord Cabot had come to collect her and Penny thought it was almost too cruel that she must dance with him again. It was so like any other ball of the past two seasons that it only served to remind her of what had been, in stark contrast to what was now.

  She did not suppose the lord enjoyed it any more than she did, as he had been looking stone-faced so far.

  As they waited for their turn, Lord Cabot said stiffly, “I suppose Burke will be disappointed that he is not to take you into supper.”

  “If he is,” Penny said, “he cannot be more disappointed than I.” While she would not directly comment on the dreariness of being escorted into supper by Lord Grayson and his high-flown compliments, she could not resist hinting that she did not look forward to it.

  “I see,” Lord Cabot said.

  Penny supposed he did see. She had not made it a particular secret from him that she had never fallen under Grayson’s spell, as so many foolish ladies had.

  “I suppose you must be gratified that my father has arranged for you to take in Miss Dell,” Penny said. “Though I think you shall discover that my friend, though she is learned, prefers a steady temperament with her scholarly pursuits.”

  “Her temperament strikes me as steady enough
,” Lord Cabot said. “As for her pursuits, I would not know.”

  Penny swallowed a sigh. He would continue dissembling. She did not know to what purpose. He knew well enough that she and Kitty were close friends. Did he imagine he was to reveal himself the highly educated man to impress Kitty and it would remain unknown to herself?

  “I really do not see why,” Penny said, “if someone wishes to be well-read and educated on a variety of subjects, that proclivity should be under wraps.”

  “I do not see why either,” Lord Cabot said, his brow wrinkling.

  “Then why would a person go on with it?” Penny asked. “Why would a person pretend at being one thing when in fact they were another?”

  Lord Cabot did not answer and Penny plowed on, even though she knew she should not.

  “Unless, of course, one delighted in pointing out the lack of information in others. I suppose it is all just a game.” A meanspirited game, Penny thought to herself.

  “If you mean to imply that I shall be discomposed by Miss Dell showing me up in some intellectual fashion, the notion is ridiculous.”

  “As I now understand it, Lord Cabot.”

  They had no further conversation after that. Rather, they went through the changes with neither meeting the other’s eye. Though Penny very successfully avoided looking into his eyes, she was not as successful at ignoring the warmth of his hand through her glove. She had always noticed it. Some gentlemen had cold hands, some felt more neutral as if they were not one way or the other. Lord Cabot’s hand was always very warm, as if his vitality could not be contained by a glove.

  She must stop thinking of his hands or his legs or any other part of him!

  *

  Henry led one lady after the next through the dances. He supposed he was a wretched partner. He had little to say and none of it amusing.

  How could he be amusing at such a moment? He knew the thing was all but settled between Miss Darlington and Burke. And yet, when he’d come right out and said that she must be disappointed that Burke would not escort her to supper, he’d somehow hoped to hear otherwise. He’d not heard otherwise, she’d claimed she was more disappointed than even Burke would be!

  He supposed he’d harbored some idea that there might be the slightest chance that the match was being pushed by Mendbridge and not favored by his daughter.

  But no. She was even more disappointed than Burke. It could not be more clear. After all, anybody might expect a lady to demur, even if she were more disappointed. To come right out and say so was verging on the announcement itself.

  It hinted that she did not only find the match satisfactory. She thought she was in love with Burke!

  It was nonsensical. Why should anybody fall in love with that swine?

  Henry checked himself, as he knew very well that Burke was not a swine. He dearly wished the man was a swine. Or a scoundrel or a reprobate or deep in debt or secretly married or all of those things together. Then, he might expose him in some manner. The idea was beneath him and not very gentlemanly, especially since Burke was his friend, but there it was.

  The inconvenient truth of it, though, was that Burke was the most sensible of them all and had never done a thing he could point to as being outrageous.

  Though, he wondered at Burke not telling him directly of his preference for Miss Darlington. He might have mentioned he intended to approach Mendbridge with the idea. Certainly, Burke had noticed how often he’d taken the lady into supper or claimed the first. It would seem the honorable thing to tell a rival they were to be defeated before that rival was bowled over by hearing the news publicly. Was there some breach of protocol in it? Or decency?

  He might just take that up with Burke.

  Not at this very moment, though. He’d got through the dance with Miss Dell in near silence and now he must lead her into supper. He understood from Miss Darlington that Miss Dell was set on exposing his less than well-read habits. Let her, he could not care less. If the lady was intent on questioning him about algebra, she would soon be apprised of the idea that he’d received a book on the subject and not bothered with turning beyond the first page of it. Nor would he ever.

  Algebra could go to the dogs!

  *

  Penny felt herself prickly upon finding herself next to Lord Grayson at supper. She had always found his penchant for outlandish compliments tiresome. Now, however, she found there was a particular sting to their absence. The lord had not mentioned a thing about her person and instead had only endlessly spoken of Kitty.

  As he waxed on, Penny examined her feelings. She supposed it rankled that she’d become so accustomed to attentions that seemed to have suddenly flown off from every direction. Lord Cabot did not admire her as she had once thought and not even Lord Grayson could be bothered to compare her hair to the fires of Venus as he had so often done.

  Had she lingered too long through the seasons? Were two seasons enough to blunt the charms of Miss Darlington?

  Heat warmed Penny’s cheeks as she wondered if she was on her way to becoming a spinster. New, younger girls would come on the scene. Miss Darlington was no longer a novelty. Perhaps her looks were fading and she had not even noticed! Had not her aunt cautioned her about the hours she spent in the sun while on horseback? Perhaps she was becoming just the eccentric lady that drove a High Flyer.

  It was a ghastly idea.

  “I say, though,” Lord Grayson said, “why does Miss Dell read so much? Does her father force her to it?”

  Penny made herself attend to Lord Grayson. Though, what he was on about now she did not know.

  “Miss Dell reads because it gives her pleasure,” she answered.

  “Are you certain?” Lord Grayson asked.

  “Yes, quite,” Penny said.

  “I don’t see the pleasure in it, myself,” Lord Grayson said. “I think, why bother storing up all sorts of useless facts that have no bearing on one’s life?”

  “I suppose people are different,” Penny said noncommittedly.

  “I think she’ll give it up when she’s out,” Lord Grayson said. “There will be so many entertainments that there will be no time for Cardinal Wolsey and his ilk.”

  “I think you do not know my friend very well,” Penny said.

  “Oh, people change,” Lord Grayson said, staring down the table at Kitty.

  “They certainly do,” Penny said bitterly. “One may think one knows a person, and then discover that they never did. Then that person they thought they knew might try to flout some hidden knowledge in order to impress some other person.”

  Lord Grayson laughed. “You overestimate me, Miss Darlington. If I had some hidden knowledge, I would present it in a flash to Miss Dell. Alas, I have none of it. I could not make it past the first page of that dreadful book on the cardinal.”

  Penny was confounded by Lord Grayson. Why on earth would he think she spoke about him?

  “It is the scholarly Lord Cabot who walks around hiding all his knowledge,” Penny said bitterly.

  Lord Grayson laughed. “Cabot, a scholar? The notion is ridiculous.”

  “You needn’t bother, Lord Grayson,” Penny said. “I know all about it. Lord Cabot intends to put his accomplishments on display for Miss Dell’s edification.”

  “Does he?” Lord Grayson said, a tinge of outrage in his tone. “I am surprised his thoughts would run in such a direction. One would think the only thing on Cabot’s mind just now would be escaping the moneylender’s noose.”

  “Moneylender?” Penny asked in some surprise.

  “Yes, Miss Darlington,” Grayson said peevishly. “I have it on good authority that our Lothario has gotten himself in deep and his filly is his only way out. I wonder how Miss Dell would view that particular piece of knowledge?”

  Penny did not answer, though she was shocked by the idea. A gentleman turning to a moneylender was generally the beginning of his end. And to borrow for a horserace? What would he do if he lost?

  Well, he would not have to flee as s
o many young gentlemen before him had done. Certainly, his family would not allow it.

  But if his family were willing to come to his rescue, why had he gone to a moneylender to begin? After all, what did anybody really know of the financial position of the duke? Had property been mortgaged? It might be so and the whole thing kept quiet. Many a vast holding had been revealed to be wobbling on shaky ground before now. As she knew from Lily, Lord Ashworth had brought his father’s estates back from the brink of ruin. Nobody had the least suspected that had been his raison d’être for gambling.

  Penny narrowed her eyes. Might there not be a monetary cause for Lord Cabot’s sudden interest in Kitty? Her dowry was generous, exceedingly so. Far more than Penny’s own. In truth, Penny had sometimes feared for her friend’s coming out on account of it and only mollified herself when she considered Kitty’s good sense.

  Penny sighed. It seemed the layers were being peeled back on Lord Cabot’s character. He was never who he had represented himself to be. He was devious, bad tempered, foolish, and self-interested. He might very well find himself on a packet boat to the continent one of these days and she would not be sorry about it!

  *

  Henry did his best to suffer though the supper with Miss Dell. She had not the slightest interest in horses, as he had discovered. He’d ventured the subject thinking any of Miss Darlington’s friends must have at least a passing interest and it would be a deal more pleasant than algebra.

  Miss Dell thought horses were convenient. Convenient, she’d said.

  A poker to stir a fire was convenient. A side table to set one’s drink on was convenient. Having enough money in one’s pocket to do as one wished was convenient. How on earth could the noble creature that was horse be reduced to a mere convenience?

  Despite his outrage over her ill-informed opinions, Henry decided to launch the topic that had been eating away at him all night.