Perhaps he should invite her over to get Zeb off his bed. An image of Nina lying in his bed appeared in his mind. He cleared his throat and attempted to clear the wicked thought. “Surely, your singing cannot be so terrible.”
“Sadly, it is. James even hired a vocalist to try to improve my singing. She quit after a month and claimed me hopeless.”
Elliot grinned. Her honesty was refreshing. How many times had he heard mothers and debutantes praise their talents, only to learn it was false bravado?
“Are you laughing at me, sir?”
“Of course not.”
She grinned. “Yes, you are.”
“Well, I’m envisioning your brother’s dog taking refuge under a table.” That wasn’t true. He was still envisioning her lying in his bed.
“My lack of being able to carry a tune does have its advantages.”
“Does it?”
“Yes, when I wish to be alone, I start singing. I can clear a room as rapidly as a fire.”
Elliot laughed. He was enjoying himself, even with the knowledge that at any moment a pixie-faced debutante would command the attention of those seated and most likely sing or play the piano off key.
Lady Clifton strode over to Nina’s grandmother. “Lady Huntington, how wonderful to see you here.”
Thwarted in her eavesdropping, the Dowager of Huntington straightened and gave a clearly forced smile. “Yes, Caroline was supposed to accompany Nina, but is feeling under the weather, so I had no choice.”
As if used to the old woman’s bluntness, Lady Clifton smiled and sat next to the dowager, forcing her to turn to the woman.
“You received my note?” Nina whispered.
“I did.”
“If you truly think pretending you are pursuing me will spark Fernbridge’s attention, I’d like to take you up on your offer.”
This day was getting better every minute.
“You understand it won’t only be me acting as if I am considering courting you, but also giving you lessons?”
She glanced at him, then quickly glanced at her hands, folded in her lap.
Curiosity sparked in her eyes. Nina might act the proper miss, but underneath her façade was a woman who wished to experience life to its fullest. Fernbridge was so wrong for her.
“No lessons,” she said.
“We will see.” He grinned.
She looked like she wanted to kick him.
Good God, something about her excited him far more than was necessary for the task at hand.
“And since we have known each other so long, I think when alone, you should call me Elliot.”
Her lips pinched into a tight line, but she nodded.
Lady Clifton stood and walked away.
The Dowager of Huntington leaned forward, peered past her grandchild, and pinned him a withering glare. “What are you two whispering about?”
“Just the weather,” Nina replied.
“Switch seats with me, Nina,” the old woman said, as if he carried smallpox or some other contagious disease.
Nina was saved from replying by Lady Clifton standing before the rows of chairs and ringing a small brass bell. “Everyone, please be seated. We are about to start.” As the woman spoke, her daughter Georgiana sat at the piano.
Talbot lowered himself into the chair next to Elliot. “Have you heard her play?”
“No,” Elliot said.
“If you think you are in for a treat, you are mistaken. I think the chit and her mama are tone deaf,” Talbot said sotto voce. “You will be forever indebted to me for dragging me here.”
Two hours later, Talbot looked ready to doze off if he had to endure another piano performance. Elliot hoped the woman playing an exceedingly slow rendition of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata was the final performer.
The young debutante hit the last key, and everyone applauded.
Lady Clifton strode back to the front of the room. “Ladies,” she said, then turned and looked at Talbot and Elliot. “Gentlemen, refreshments will be served in the drawing room.”
A nerve ticked in Talbot’s jaw. “Elliot, please do not tell me you want to stay for tea. I’m anxious for something a bit stronger to relieve the megrim I’ve gotten while sitting here.”
Elliot smiled at him, then stood and offered Nina his arm. “Might I escort you to the drawing room?”
“No, you may escort me,” Nina’s grandmother said, leaning her weight on her cane and standing up.
“Of course, Lady Huntington.”
As the matriarch placed her hand on his sleeve, she gave him a death stare. “What are you about, Lord Ralston?”
“I’m not sure what you mean, madam.”
“Oh, don’t act guileless with me. I know you’re up to something. And it better not be you’ve set your sights on my granddaughter. I was not feeling well, so I did not attend my grandson’s ball, but I have my way of finding out things. I heard you danced the first waltz with Nina.”
He didn’t doubt the woman had her spies. Most likely servants who feared her and quaked when she glared at them with her icy gray eyes.
“My granddaughter has set her sights on the Duke of Fernbridge. It would be an auspicious union, which I look favorably upon.”
“The man is as dull as a tarnished quid. She’d be bored married to him.”
“That is of no concern. She has a duty to her family to marry well.”
He was so tired of hearing about one’s duty. He was in dire financial straits because of the duty placed on him. Surely, there was more to life.
“Go sniff at someone else’s skirt. Or else . . .”
Elliot might have set out to marry Nina for her dowry, but now he just wanted to save her from this old woman’s machinations.
“Madam, if you think you will scare me away with your threats, think again,” he said in a low voice. As they stepped into the drawing room, he forced himself to smile at the old bat as he led her to a chair. After she sat, he turned to Nina and Talbot, who walked several yards behind them.
Nina smiled at something Talbot said to her, but her gaze kept veering to him and her grandmother as if she realized the woman had been warning him off.
“Madam.” He nodded at the dowager and strode toward Nina before the old woman could continue flailing him with her sharp tongue.
“I feel rather left out of whatever conversation you two were having,” Nina said.
“We were conversing about how fetching you look in your yellow gown.” Elliot smiled.
The way she pursed her lips clearly betrayed she didn’t believe him, but a slight blush colored her cheeks as if she still took pleasure in the compliment.
He enjoyed seeing her blush, and contrary to what her grandmother wanted, he was now more determined to win Nina’s hand and thwart her grandmother’s ill-advised matchmaking.
* * *
Three days later, Elliot toured Langford Teas on Mincing Lane with the proprietor. Talbot, concerned his father would find out he was a partner in this venture to purchase the company and try to outbid them, had suggested they keep his involvement secret. While Elliot attended to the legal stuff, Talbot would remain anonymous, but provide the initial capital.
Inside the business, the scent of tea infused the air. Elliot had always preferred coffee to tea, but suddenly this scent was nearly as sweet as a woman climaxing beneath him. If he could make this business more profitable, he could become a full partner, not an indebted one.
They stepped into a long, narrow room. Men wearing dark aprons stood at tables packaging tins of tea from large vats. Stacks of crates stamped TEA filled an adjacent storage area. This morning, Elliot had also toured Langford’s dockside warehouse in Wapping, where the tea was stored after arriving from China.
Elliot noticed another room with glass windows, making the occupants inside visible. Several men were placing tea leaves on a scale, then mixing them with other ingredients.
“That is the blending room,” Langford said, motioning Ellio
t to precede him.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of spices. Two gentlemen sipping tea engaged in a robust conversation on which blend they preferred.
As Langford explained the workings of the blending room, Elliot found it odd that not a single taster was a woman since they did most of the shopping and enjoyed tea houses. If Langford agreed to his terms for purchasing the business, Elliot would hire a couple of female tasters. Perhaps create brands just for them. This idea of marketing specialty teas for women, along with using a direct supplier from Ceylon instead of purchasing higher-priced Chinese tea from the auction house, would hopefully increase revenue.
They exited the blending room and entered Langford’s office.
After two hours of robust negotiations, Elliot stood and reached across the proprietor’s desk to shake the tea merchant’s hand. “So at the end of next month, we will sign the purchase agreement for the amount we discussed.” Elliot still wanted to examine the ledgers more thoroughly and have an inventory done at the warehouse.
Standing, Langford grasped his hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “Yes. I’ll contact my solicitor today and have him begin drafting the sales agreement.”
Elliot knew the amount he’d offered for the business was a bit steep, but he was sure he could increase the company’s profits and wanted to convince Langford to agree to the sale before another potential buyer made a bid.
The door behind him opened, and a man who looked in his early twenties stepped into the room. “Sorry, Uncle Samuel, I didn’t realize anyone was with you.”
Langford walked around his desk. “Lord Ralston, might I introduce you to my nephew, Harry Connors. Harry, his lordship is to be the new owner of Langford Teas.”
Elliot offered his hand to the other man.
Ignoring it, Connors stared blankly at his uncle. The man opened his mouth, then closed it, betraying his shock. “You’re selling the business?”
“I told you I wish to retire.”
Connors clenched his jaw, causing a nerve to visibly pulse. “Yes, but I thought the business would be kept in the family.”
Looking uncomfortable, the older man’s gaze slipped to Elliot before returning to his nephew. “We will discuss this in private, Harry. This is not the proper time.”
“Is Aunt Tilly aware of this?” An unpleasant sneer twisted the man’s lips.
“Yes, and as I’ve said, we will discuss this later.” Langford’s cheeks turned red.
Connors gave one last look of unabashed disgust before he exited the office, slamming the door in his wake with such force the walls rattled. A painting of a clipper ship at sea slipped off its hook to fall askew onto the floor with a thud.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that, my lord.” The man released a deep, audible sigh. “My wife has seen fit to spoil her sister’s boy, being he is our only living relation. He lives a flamboyant lifestyle on my generosity. However, I cannot see to giving him the business my father started. I fear it would come crashing down under my nephew’s tutelage. I hate to speak ill of the man, but he is a spendthrift with a penchant for gambling at the horse races.”
The smell on young Harry Connors’s breath had also revealed he indulged in blue ruin.
“Then you aren’t questioning your decision to sell me the business?”
“No, I will not change my mind, my lord. I have shaken your hand, and that is as good as a legal contract.”
Elliot nodded. He felt sorry for Langford. This decision to sell the business had obviously not come easy to the man, but he understood his desire to see Langford Teas flourish. Elliot aimed for it to do so once he and Talbot purchased it.
But now, he needed to center his mind on trying to woo the lovely, raven-haired Nina, who would be at Lord and Lady Pendleton’s ball tonight.
Chapter Seven
Lord and Lady Pendleton’s ballroom glittered under the crystal chandeliers. As Nina and her grandmother entered the massive space, Nina searched the crush for the Duke of Fernbridge. Her stomach gave a nervous jump when she spotted him in a crowd of men that included Lord Elliot Ralston.
The duke looked bored, whereas Elliot said something and the men gathered gave a hearty laugh. Elliot was not only a lady’s man but also a man’s man, admired for his easy, carefree way. As if sensing someone watched him, he turned and flashed a rakish smile at her.
Her heart picked up speed. Maybe that nervous jump in her stomach had nothing to do with Fernbridge and everything to do with the rake standing next to him.
Nina gave herself a mental shake. The man was a rogue. She needed to remember this was nothing more than a game for Elliot. His blatant flirtatious looks meant nothing. He just wished to prove he could help her bring Fernbridge up to snuff with some competition.
Next to her, Grandmother grumbled. “I forgot how dashed crowded these things get. The smell of so many perfumed bodies crushed together like plums in a pie is nauseating.”
Nina released a silent sigh. An hour before James, Caroline, and she were to leave for Lord and Lady Pendleton’s ball, James had knocked on her bedchamber door and informed her Grandmother would be accompanying her. That could only mean one thing. Caroline was not feeling well. Queasiness had plagued her sister-in-law at the beginning of her last pregnancy.
“I need to sit,” Grandmother snapped, giving an imperious thump of her cane, pulling Nina from her thoughts.
Around the perimeter of the ballroom, gilded chairs had been placed for those who wished to sit. On one wall sat several of Grandmother’s old cronies.
“Grandmother, look who is here.” Nina motioned to the gray-haired women, hoping the sight of them would elevate the matriarch’s sour mood.
“Good God. I do not want to sit next to Lady Filbert. She complains incessantly about her bunions.” She glanced around the ballroom. “Ah, there is the Dowager Lady Campden. I wish to sit next to her. She’s originally from America. When she talks with her Bostonian accent, I pretend I cannot understand her, and she finally stops chatting. She’s perfect.”
Nina led the dowager to the chair next to Lady Campden. “Grandmother, I see my dear friend Lady Sara Elsmere. I shall be over there conversing with her.”
Like a periscope, Grandmother tracked the girl down with her steely gray eyes and frowned. “Isn’t she the girl who possesses that atrocious nervous laugh?”
“Not always,” Nina said defensively.
“Go now before she comes over here. I fear her wretched laughter might bring on another megrim.”
As Nina pivoted to walk away, Grandmother’s gnarled fingers wrapped about her wrist, stopping her departure. “I see the Duke of Fernbridge is here. Remember, child, you have a duty to your family. If you marry the duke, it will snip any unfavorable gossip in the bud and please your brother.”
Nina nodded, then strode toward Sara. Her friend, dressed in a simple cream-colored gown with little ornamentation, seemed to be attempting to blend into the wall. Gatherings like this made Sara as panicky as a cat getting bathed. As always, the sour-faced duenna Sara’s father hired to attend these functions with her stood by her side.
As Nina joined her, Sara straightened her drooping shoulders and turned to her chaperone. “Mrs. Appleton, you may find a seat. I shall be fine with my friend Lady Nina.”
The old woman strode away.
“Nina, I’m beyond happy to see you here. I’m like an octopus out of water at these events, but Papa still insists I attend.”
Nina tried not to smile at her friend’s description. Sara tended to replace words in idioms, making them unique, as she had now done using octopus instead of fish. She clasped Sara’s hands and lifted her arms outward. “You look quite attractive, and I assure you, you have only two arms.”
“I wish I did have eight. Then Papa would stop forcing me to attend these gatherings and sell me to a carnival instead.”
“Sara, no one shall ask you to dance if you hide in the corner of the ballroom.”
“That i
s precisely why I am here. You know what happens when a man so much as glances at me.”
“Perhaps when dancing with a gentleman, you can imagine they are your dance instructor, Mr. Arneau.”
Red crept up Sara’s neck to settle on her cheeks. “Mr. Arneau quit yesterday. I giggled even when he danced with me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. The man acted like a general in the army. He had no patience. I feared he might strike me. Honestly, Nina, I wish Papa would let me stay home and hide away in the library, but he has threatened to bolt the door closed if I do not attend this season. If he would attend with me, he’d witness firsthand how I am a leper.”
Nina squeezed Sara’s hand. “You are no such thing.”
“No gentleman wishes to dance with me, and I cannot blame them.” Sara’s eyes grew large. A nervous-sounding laugh bubbled up her friend’s throat. “Oh dear, Lord Ralston and the Duke of Fernbridge are cutting a path through the crowd and heading this way.”
Nina turned and watched as both men strode toward them.
A moment later, Elliot inclined his head. “Lady Nina, how are you?”
“I’m well.”
“May I introduce you both to Lady Sara . . .” Nina’s voice trailed off as she noticed Sara had disappeared. “I’m sorry, Lady Sara was here a minute ago.” She searched for her friend, then turned back to Fernbridge. “How are you, Your Grace?”
He released a bored-sounding sigh. “Well enough.” He glanced about. “Ah, if you’ll excuse me, I see Lord Alstead. He’s got a stocked lake on his property. One of the best fishing places in all of England.”
The man strode off.
Nina stared at Fernbridge’s back as he walked away. “Maybe if I stripped naked, he would notice me.”
Elliot’s bark of laughter caused her to peer at him.
Goodness, had she spoken out loud, or was he once again reading her thoughts?
“I’m sure he would.” Humor gleamed in his eyes.
Heat warmed her cheeks. “Tell me you have telepathic powers, and I didn’t say that out loud.”
“No such powers, but I wish I did.” He bent his head closer to hers and spoke in a conspiratorially low voice. “I’d truly enjoy knowing what you’re thinking, especially if it involves getting naked. Tell me what other wicked thoughts you have?”
Never Conspire with a Sinful Baron Page 5
