by Allison Lane
Vowing to nip any relationship in the bud, she set out to find him.
“You are aware that Miss Parker is betrothed to Lord Eastbrook,” she stated once they had dispensed with greetings and an exchange of on-dits.
“Of course, though I cannot perceive why anyone would think them compatible.”
“That is not your concern.”
“What is your point?” His eyes narrowed oddly.
“Chloe is a dear friend who has little experience of the world. I will not stand for anyone leading her astray, especially a gentleman of your reputation.”
“Well, that certainly is blunt.”
“Forgive me, but she is under my care at the moment. I do not wish to see her hurt.”
“Nor do I. I have no designs of the chit, Lady Bounty. And I am not nearly the loose screw rumor suggests.”
“Then why are you under such pressure to set up your nursery? I understand you are in dire need of a fortune.”
He flashed an appealing grin. “You don’t pull any punches, do you? A most unusual lady. Yes, I am in need of funds – which proves my reputation is exaggerated. I could never afford some of my supposed exploits. My parents are miffed because I refuse to pursue the careers they consider proper for a younger son of the aristocracy. They are rather set in their ways and cannot abide the fact that I wish to go into trade.”
Nothing could keep the surprise from her face at so astounding an announcement. “Trade?” she asked weakly.
He stared at her, finally relaxing. “You are merely shocked rather than disapproving. I cannot keep my hand in their pocket forever – we are all agreed on that point. In fact, their largess expired with this quarter’s allowance. But I am far too impious for the church.”
She joined his chuckle when he flashed a lecherous grin at her.
“The military holds no interest for me. Government has always struck me as intensely boring.”
“I expect your politics run against you, as well.”
“Of course. What I really want is to start an import business. But the idea so horrified my parents that I had to abandon it. At least for now. I am hoping that my compromise will be acceptable – though opposition will no longer deter me. Their demand that I wed an heiress is absurd. I would wind up in Bedlam if I tried to live as a farmer.”
“So what is your compromise?” She couldn’t think of anything he had not already rejected.
“I am negotiating a position with the East India Company. It would put me on the other end of the import business. And it would keep me out of sight, which might reconcile my parents.”
She nodded. “It might at that. And returning to England as a nabob would remove the taint of trade from any fortune you amassed.”
“Lovely mind you have. That thought had crossed mine as well.”
“I wish you luck, Mr. Langley.”
“Thank you. Have I relieved your anxiety?”
“For the most part. But you should still avoid Miss Parker. She is an impressionable girl who is facing a difficult transition in her life. I don’t want to see her hurt.”
“You sound grim. I have no intention of hurting her.”
“Probably not, but that is no protection. I’ve seen it happen before. A little innocent flirtation, a few compliments. That is all some girls need to form an infatuation. Don’t complicate her life.”
“You are an excellent friend and a conscientious chaperon,” he said with chagrin. “I won’t hurt her.”
* * * *
Nicholas noted the smile Diana bestowed on Langley. She had deliberately sought him out. Had she interpreted his warning as a dare?
It didn’t matter, he assured himself repeatedly. He had given her the information to clear his conscience. If she chose to ignore it, that was her business.
So why did the sight of them together drive a stake through his chest? He hadn’t believed her claim that she would never remarry. It had been a taunt reminding him that he meant nothing to her.
Or had it? Diana never reacted like other ladies. Perhaps she really had loved Bounty. Granted, the man was older than her grandfather, but stranger things had happened. In that case, Langley was unlikely to turn her head.
Of course, Langley was very much his kindred spirit. So alike that he might have been a young Nicholas. Even their goals sounded the same – enjoy life until money became tight, then wed an heiress. And Langley’s charm was legendary. Would history replay itself? Would Diana soon find herself in the same trap that had snared Lord Forester? The same one that she had inadvertently flirted with ten years ago? Only this time the gentleman would not let her escape.
He groaned.
But a new sight drove thoughts of Diana away. Sophia and a stranger were seated in a corner by themselves, holding an earnest conversation. Sophia seemed happier than he had ever seen her. Had she actually found someone she liked?
He stared at the gentleman. Only yesterday the man had been holding an intense – and very congenial – discussion with Lord Porter. Porter might be a sanctimonious fool, but he shared many of Sophia’s ideas. Too bad he was already wed. But if his friend felt the same way, he would make a perfect suitor.
Sophia smiled and fluttered her fan.
“Who is the man talking to Lady Sophia?” asked Nicholas, catching Justin as he escaped Lady Hardesty and a young lady. “I’ve not met him before.”
Justin glanced across the room. “Lord Eastbrook – Weymouth’s heir. This is the first time he has visited London, though I occasionally run into him in Stafford. He has an estate nearby.”
“He looks all of thirty.”
“Not quite.”
“Why has he avoided town? Money problems?”
“What is your interest in the fellow?”
“Sophia is a second cousin. She needs a husband, but I don’t want her involved with a fortune hunter.”
“Eastbrook has quite a comfortable fortune of his own. But he hates society – doesn’t approve of me, either, which is why we’ve never been close. You needn’t fear he’ll entice Lady Sophia, though. He’s been betrothed most of his life. The girl is coming out this Season, so he’s in town – reluctantly – to protect his interests.”
And that was that. Nicholas wanted to sigh in disappointment. Eastbrook had seemed promising. He had never seen Sophia this animated.
“I don’t suppose you would be interested in her.”
“Never thought I’d see you playing matchmaker, Nicholas. Sorry, but even if I were ready to set up my nursery – which I’m not – I would never consider Lady Sophia. Begging your pardon, but she is a prig with a blistering tongue and an exaggerated belief in her own opinions. She would be happier as a Methodist.”
Still chuckling, he escorted Miss Riverton to dinner.
CHAPTER FOUR
Nicholas kept his face impassive as he entered Lady Belmont’s ballroom. Society events were not his milieu – and never had been. He had always preferred less restrictive affairs – like Lord Cavendish’s masquerades, with their mixture of haut monde and demimonde and their opportunities for stealing a kiss or dancing thrice with the same partner without finding himself shackled for life.
But here he was, pursuing duty. He had reluctantly concluded that the Bankleighs were serious about Sophia. They would actually force her into an unsuitable union if she failed to wed. So he had to find her a husband – which meant venturing into the treacherous waters of the Marriage Mart.
The danger lay in that other duty, the one he was ignoring. He had no desire for a wife – and no real need for one. His current heir would make a good marquess, as would the man’s son. But his mother refused to accept that. And he was only now learning how tenacious she could be. Her letters claiming that he was hunting for a wife were bad enough. But he had heard new tales just that afternoon that sent shudders into his soul.
He had never been close to his parents. His father cared for no one but himself. His mother hated their estate, their poverty, and their es
trangement from Woodvale and the rest of the Barrington family. Her displeasure emerged as rants against his father’s weaknesses. Both ignored their only son. By the time Nicholas was ten, he had welcomed school because it had removed him from home.
Nicholas’s solicitor had brought a fellow solicitor to their afternoon appointment, a man who had secretly served his grandmother by keeping an eye on her second son.
His revelations left Nicholas reeling. His grandmother had paid for Nicholas’s tutor and all of his school expenses. If he had seriously questioned it, he might have wondered where the money was coming from, but he had not. Gratitude for his education had kept him in touch with his parents all those years, for it was the only thing they had ever given him. But it was a lie.
The rest of the tale was all too common. His mother had been the ambitious daughter of a rather boring baron, who had coerced her father into giving her a London Season. There she laid siege to the second son of a wealthy marquess, which was about as high as she could expect to climb. She had assumed that his wealth and standing would propel her into company with London’s top hostesses, where she would soon build her own reputation.
But that was not how it had worked. She’d discovered too late that her husband’s weakness for gaming had already squandered his inheritance. Her dowry quickly followed. When the old marquess learned that Lord James had turned to theft and partnership in an opium den to keep the cent-per-cents off his back, a family fight erupted that drove James from London. Peace had only been restored when James accepted an estate of his own in return for a vow to remain there, away from society and the rest of the family. If he broke trust, details of his misdeeds would be turned over to the authorities.
Lady James knew only that they were impoverished and could not return to town. Believing that money would rectify that problem, she drove her weak-willed husband into bad investments and new wagers that ultimately left him heavily in debt. Now she saw her son as her ticket back to society.
He didn’t want her in town. Years of bitterness had removed any sign of gentility, all sense of style, and the last vestige of her self-control. He had already dispatched orders that she was to remain on the estate, but her letter campaign was complicating his life. His presence at Lady Belmont’s ball was bound to give credence to her claims. And he had no idea what else she might try. He had inherited his determination from her.
Spotting two of the most voracious matchmaking mamas making a bee-line in his direction, he rapidly set off the other way. Was his retreat obvious? Dodging behind the knot of sprigs clustered around the Season’s Incomparable, he glanced back to gauge his success.
“Oof!”
“My lord!”
Oh, God! He had slammed into Lady Hardesty and Diana. His hand shot out to keep Diana from falling. Heat burned through his glove.
“Not even an apology?” demanded Lady Hardesty. Diana was rubbing her arm where he’d grabbed it.
“I beg your pardon, ladies,” he managed, forcing his eyes off the peach silk caressing Diana’s curves.
“Of course,” murmured Diana, but Lady Hardesty overrode her.
“Not at all the thing, to barge about a ballroom with your head in a fog, Woodvale. Lady Bounty might have been injured. Make it up to her by partnering her in this next set.”
He really had no choice. Any hesitation would call down Lady Hardesty’s censure, creating a scene. The matchmakers again had him in their sights, daughters firmly in tow. “I would be delighted,” he said, offering Diana his arm.
The orchestra struck the first note, and he nearly groaned. A waltz. How was he to survive a waltz? Lust already rampaged through his body. If this kept up, he would have to turn fop and adopt those billowing Cossack trousers to hide his reaction.
Diana saw Nicholas grimace and had to fight to keep her own face in check. Proof that he cared nothing for her still hurt, though this went beyond disinterest. Could he not even tolerate one dance? Why did he hate her? He had been at fault all those years ago.
Not that she was thrilled to be waltzing with him. Her arm tingled where he had touched her. It was appalling that her body still yearned for his despite knowing his real character. Appalling and awkward. How was she to remain aloof for an entire set?
Silence wasn’t the answer. She needed a distraction from the warmth of his hand at her waist, the firm grip of his fingers on hers, the scant inch that separated her bosom from his chest on the turns… Heat rolled over her.
Idiot! Waltzing was nothing but turns.
“I understand you lost your father as well as your uncle,” she said, desperate to drag her thoughts away from this emotional abyss.
“And my grandmother and cousin.” His voice cracked.
She raised a brow. “You were close to your grandmother?”
He nodded. For a moment she expected him to change the subject, but he surprised her. “I never talked much about my family, did I?”
She shook her head.
“My father had been ostracized before I was born. He was furious when my grandmother accepted me.”
“He preferred the sins of the father adage, I suppose.”
“Perhaps. Or it may have been money. I just discovered that Grandmother paid all my school expenses.”
“Rubbing your father’s failures in his face?”
“I doubt it, but he would have seen it that way.”
He sidestepped another couple, pulling her against him for a brief moment. She nearly gasped, needing all her concentration to keep her breathing unruffled.
“She kept in close touch with me over the years, but was less open than I believed. None of us knew that she had an estate and fortune of her own. She left it all to me.” He shook his head. “Even if my cousin had survived the carriage accident that killed them both, I would have gotten it all.”
“You don’t sound happy about it,” she said lightly. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?”
“Yes, but she left too many questions along with it. Why the secrecy? If I was her heir, why not help me openly before she died? There were times when I was down to my last shilling. And why cut my cousin out?”
“That’s easy enough. He was in line for the Woodvale fortune.”
“I suppose so. But she left me in quite a bind. My father was incensed, of course. His need was far greater than mine, and she was his mother. His ranting destroyed our last vestige of affection. And he deliberately ran up debts during that last year that he knew I would have to pay.”
“Do you honestly believe that was in retaliation?”
He nodded.
“Fustian! You still think the world centers on you, don’t you? Once your cousin died, who was next in line for the title?”
He sighed. “Father. But Woodvale’s second wife was still young.”
“I expect he ignored that – especially given her history of producing daughters.”
He grunted.
“Put yourself in his shoes,” she suggested. “I don’t know why he had been ostracized, but he had probably begrudged his brother the heir’s privileges long before. He had been kicked out and forced to live in poverty. Now fate had put him in line for the fortune his family had denied him. Why should he live frugally when he would eventually inherit money? Many a man lives on expectations. And even if his brother outlived him, his debts would be paid from the marquess’s coffers.”
“All right. Perhaps I overreacted.”
Despite the harsh grumble, his face looked lighter. Diana moved the conversation onto a less personal topic while she pondered his words. Growing up in an impoverished household filled with hatred and resentment had left a mark. Perhaps his obsession with amassing a fortune was not as selfish as she had thought.
It was difficult to imagine such heartless parents. Her own had showered her with love and support. Even thrusting her into marriage with Harry had been based on love. How could she have lived without it?
But Nicholas had. His father was a bitter wastrel who w
ould have resented his grandmother’s support. No wonder Nicholas had avoided going home that summer.
* * * *
Sophia cornered Nicholas in the refreshment room half an hour later. “Are you going to Lord Harrison’s house party?”
He nodded. The fortune hunters and matchmakers were growing bolder. He needed to get out of London for a week. A brief hiatus from town would also allow him to regain some control over himself and his life.
How had he been trapped into dancing with Diana? She had a most unsettling effect on his mind – from guilt, of course. She revived memories of a disreputable interlude and reminded him that he had always had a penchant for willowy women with green eyes. Such truths were unwelcome just now.
On the other hand, she had just done him a great service. He had never discussed the pain his father’s profligacy had caused, not wanting to air his family’s dirty linen in public or to risk sounding greedy – he ignored that he had just willingly done both with a woman who already held him in low esteem. But she had unerringly cut through his pain to expose the truth. Of course his father had ignored the possibility of a new heir. He was too much a gamester to be prudent.
While his own inheritance had caused arguments, it was his cousin’s death that had changed his father’s conduct – goaded on by his rapacious mother, no doubt.
Which cast his grandmother’s secrecy into a different light. If his parents had known of her wealth, they would have plagued her with demands for money. And if they had suspected that Nicholas was her heir, they would have found a way to place him under obligation to them. Her silence had protected him.
Had Bounty known? He had been so sure that Nicholas would eventually have the security he sought—
Sophia laid a pleading hand on his arm. He had developed a dangerous habit of woolgathering in public. What if a matchmaker had sneaked up on him? He shuddered.
