by Amelia Grey
He wanted to do some serious thinking and find out what had gone wrong. He’d gone to Miss Prim’s house with the purpose of telling her they would be married and that he was going to ask the Court of Chancery to appoint a different guardian for her sisters. It was supposed to be so simple. He came out of her house without accomplishing either of those things. First, she had surprised the hell out of him by saying she didn’t want to marry him. Then she had the unabashed nerve to tell him she would go to the court and ask them to remove him as their guardian. He was the first one to admit he had no business being anyone’s guardian, but he didn’t want Miss Prim telling him he couldn’t be.
How could he allow that?
Somehow she had managed to outwit him, all the while making it seem as if it wasn’t planned on her part.
Bray smiled to himself and chuckled silently. Had she actually called his club “the Heirs’ Club of Scoundrels”? She was probably more right than she knew.
Miss Prim was lovely—all the sisters were fetching in different ways. At first glance, he thought all the girls looked just alike, but later he saw they each had distinguishing features. Miss Bonnie was missing her front teeth, and Miss Lillian had a light sprinkle of freckles across her nose. Miss Gwen was the only one with almond-shaped eyes, and Miss Sybil was the only one with a button nose. And the lovely Miss Louisa Prim was the one who had an inner fire that challenged as well as intrigued him. She had charm when she chose to show it, and she was overflowing with a damned lot of courage.
But he still didn’t want to wed her, so why did it bother him that she’d turned down his offer of marriage? That should have pleased him. And would have, but he wasn’t used to anyone telling no or refusing him.
After giving it more thought, he decided there was a chance he could use this to his advantage. If he let it be known to the ton that he’d fulfilled his pledge to Nathan Prim and asked for his sister’s hand in marriage, but she declined, it would stand to reason that the gossip, rumors, and wagers would cease. The ton would leave him alone, and he’d be free to go about his daily life, still a carefree bachelor but without the constant questions and intrusions about Miss Prim.
He didn’t give a damn if everyone in London knew she’d rejected him. He just didn’t like her doing it.
That’s what rankled.
And that was what he couldn’t allow.
“Hiding, Your Grace?”
Bray recognized the voice as the meddlesome Lord Sanburne. The young earl seemed to pride himself on irritating almost everyone he knew. Bray kept the paper before his face and said, “I’m reading.”
“I can see that. Do pardon my interruption, but Sir Roger said he saw you walking up to Lord Wayebury’s house and entering it earlier this afternoon. We know Miss Prim has arrived in Town, and we thought perhaps you might have some news you wanted to share with us.”
Hellfire! Bray swore silently but remained quiet and still. Lord Sanburne and Sir Roger were at the park the night Nathan Prim had died, and they never let Bray forget that he had an unpaid debt to the man.
“Have you nothing to say?” Lord Sanburne asked, sounding a bit perturbed by Bray’s lack of response.
“Where’s my wine?”
Lord Sanburne grunted. “I’m not your server!”
“Could you get him for me?”
Bray heard a snicker of laughter. Obviously Lord Sanburne wasn’t alone, and it was probably his minion, Sir Roger, with him.
“Certainly not. If you had the decency to remove the newsprint from in front of your face as any other gentleman would, you’d see that it’s me, Lord Sanburne, talking to you.”
Bray lowered the paper and saw that not only was the fuming Lord Sanburne standing before him, but the nervous Sir Roger Wainwright and Mr. Porter Mercer were staring down at him, too.
Sanburne’s eyes opened wide, and he said, “Well, did you or did you not enter Lord Wayebury’s house?”
It was Bray’s turn to frown. “Are you having me followed?”
Sir Roger laughed, Mr. Mercer sniffed, and Lord Sanburne gasped.
The pompous earl stiffened his tall, lanky frame and grabbed hold of his coat’s lapels as if to give him courage. “Absolutely not. Don’t be ridiculous. Sir Roger happens to live on that street.”
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace, I’m just a few houses down from Lord Wayebury,” Sir Roger added.
“And you just happened to be driving by,” Bray said, turning his dark gaze on the shortest of the three men before him.
“No, no, Your Grace. Actually, I was walking past,” Sir Roger said without apology.
“You truly can’t blame us for being curious,” Lord Sanburne remarked.
“I can’t?”
“Well, perhaps you shouldn’t,” Sir Roger added, appearing flustered and taking a step back. “The whole Town is talking about Miss Prim’s arrival in London last week.”
The servant quietly approached and placed Bray’s wine on the table beside him. Bray laid down the newssheet, picked up his drink, and took a sip. So much for quiet moments with his thoughts.
“This has been going on for over two years now. We all have wagers placed here at White’s and at other clubs throughout London,” Mr. Mercer said, speaking up for the first time.
Mercer was the oldest of the three brave gentlemen standing before him and should know better than to approach a man about something he so obviously had no desire to talk about.
Lord Sanburne folded his arms across his chest and harrumphed. “If you went inside and offered for Miss Prim’s hand and plan to marry, we think we have a right to know. That way we can settle our debts by collecting our winnings or paying our losses.”
“Your gambling is not my concern, and you would not be wise to continue to pursue this line of conversation with me, Sanburne.”
“Well, it’s not just me, Your Grace. It’s everyone.”
Bray had had enough of people worrying him about his duty to Miss Prim. While he took another sip of his drink and pondered the idea of telling all three men exactly where they could shove their curiosity and their wagers, another gentleman walked up and joined the trio. Bray immediately recognized the tall portly man as Mr. Alfred Hopscotch, one of the Prince’s attendants. On the occasions Bray had been in the Prince’s company, Mr. Hopscotch was always hovering around, ready to do the heir to the throne’s bidding.
Bray rose, thinking he was about to see the Prince make a rare appearance at White’s.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace, my lord, and gentlemen,” Mr. Hopscotch said, and gave a stiff bow toward Bray.
Everyone issued their greetings to the newcomer. It was clear Lord Sanburne didn’t know the man well, because he immediately asked him if he had just arrived and if it was still raining.
Mr. Hopscotch politely answered and then, not giving Sanburne opportunity for more questions, he said, “Excuse me for interrupting your conversation, gentlemen. I’m sure it was most important, but I wonder if it might be possible for me to speak to the duke alone for a few minutes.”
After the trio grumbled their good-byes, Mr. Hopscotch looked at Bray and said, “I had a devil of a time finding you today, Your Grace. I waited at your home most of the afternoon for your return. I then went to the Heirs’ Club because I was told you prefer it to all the other clubs where you hold membership. Finally I gave up and came here, which was obviously the right thing to do.”
It struck Bray as odd that the man had gone to such lengths to find him. “I do change my routine from time to time.”
“I’ll remember that. May I sit down and join you, Your Grace?”
Bray nodded and looked toward the door as they sat down. The Prince was still nowhere in sight, so he questioned, “Will the Prince be joining us?”
“No, no, not this time, but I am here on his behalf.”
Interesting.
“What will you drink?” Bray asked.
“Oh, nothing for me,” the man said, brushing a hand down
the ends of his neckcloth. “I never take a sip when I’m on official business for the Prince.”
Official business?
Bray had to admit he was curious. He had talked with the Prince on several occasions and they had even played a few games of cards together, but he couldn’t say he knew the man well. The Regent had also sent a personal note of condolence when Bray’s father died, but he had never personally sought Bray out before.
“How is the Prince?” Bray asked.
“Well, quite well, but he will be even better once he knows he can count on you.”
Bray knew he hadn’t stepped into the political realm that was expected of a duke, but there were other pressing matters that needed to be handled first. It was important that he make visits to all his estates and meet with all his managers and collect information on all that he had taken charge of since his father’s passing.
“Surely the Prince doesn’t doubt my loyalty to the Crown.”
“No, of course not, but before we go further, I have to say that anything we discuss must be kept in the strictest of confidences. You understand, don’t you?”
“I think the Prince knows that or you wouldn’t be here.”
“True. The Prince will be glad to hear that.” The man smiled. “But it must be said so there is no doubt or future chance for misunderstandings among us.”
Bray’s curiosity moved over to suspiciousness. What could the Prince possibly want with him?
“Understood.”
“Good.” Mr. Hopscotch ran his hand down his perfectly tied neckcloth again. “It seems the Prince has wagered on whether or not you will be wed to Miss Prim by the end of the Season.”
Bray eyed the man coldly. “I’m told every gentleman in London has placed his bets.”
He knew the Prince was an excellent gambler by instinct and a rabid gambler by choice, but he thought the Prince usually stayed away from the bizarre wagers. And Bray put whether or not he would marry Miss Prim into that category.
“When do you plan to marry her?”
“That hasn’t been settled,” Bray said lightly.
“We know. That’s exactly why I’m here. The Prince would like for it to be.” He leaned forward and added, “Soon.”
Bray grimaced. He didn’t like the way the man had said the last word, as if he were giving an order he expected to be obeyed. Bray had never been any good at obeying.
Mr. Hopscotch relaxed in the chair again and continued. “Most definitely before the end of the Season, he would like to see you not just engaged but married to Miss Prim.”
“The Prince thinks he has a say in this,” Bray said cautiously, his suspicions growing.
The man smiled. “He believes so, yes.”
Bray studied the man’s eyes, which stayed steady as a rock. “Why?”
Mr. Hopscotch looked around the room as if to make sure no ears were within hearing distance and then said, “He was recently having dinner with the Duke of Norfolk and the Duke of York as well as some other gentlemen. They managed to get a friendly wager going as to whether you would make good on your promise to Lord Wayebury to marry his sister.”
Bray remained passive. He thought this visit was political. He’d heard a lot of rumors about the Prince over the years, but he’d always given them a wide-open window of doubt because Bray was very familiar with how far rumors could stray from the truth.
“The Prince should have better things to do with his time than indulge in such frivolities.”
“Smirk if you want, Your Grace, but the gossip behind this story of you and Miss Prim is riveting, is it not?”
“Riveting?” Bray laughed.
Mr. Hopscotch shrugged nonchalantly. “There is always drama in a deathbed vow. It is the most talked-about wager in London—and with good reason, is it not?”
“I have no idea,” Bray said tightly.
“Perhaps it doesn’t take much to amuse Londoners. But you do know what they say.” The man paused.
Bray deliberately took the bait and said, “No, what do they say?”
“A promise made is a debt unpaid, and some people don’t think the duke will pay this debt. The Prince happens to think you will. Naturally, he knew your father well and knows you are as honorable as your father. He has no doubt you will do the right thing and wed Miss Prim.”
Just so the Prince can win a wager?
Bray knew the Prince’s arrogance had few boundaries, but this was actually off the charts.
“If I don’t, I’m sure he will recover from the losses,” Bray offered.
“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
That’s what Bray was afraid of. “How so?”
“That isn’t for you to know. The Prince will take care of everything else. All you need to do is what you are honor-bound to do anyway, and that is to marry Miss Prim—and by the end of the Season. Can I have your word on that?”
“No,” Bray said without hesitating. “I don’t make promises anymore. You can tell that to the Prince.”
“That is not the answer he wants me to take back to him.”
“I understand. But that’s it.”
Just hours ago, Bray had told Miss Prim she would have to propose to him, so there was no way he was going back to her and asking her once again to marry him. Not even for the Prince. Miss Prim was a strong-minded young lady and would not be easily swayed from her stance or fooled.
“Why?” Mr. Hopscotch held out his hands. “It is a simple matter to you. You live up to your word as your father before you always lived up to his word.”
Bray’s jaw tightened. He needed no lectures about honor. He’d received enough of them when he was growing up. Besides, he’d done the honorable thing. He’d told Miss Prim he was willing to marry her. She was the one who had other ideas. And he was happy she did.
“I don’t take marriage lightly, and neither does Miss Prim.”
“Of course. Take your time so long as you make the Prince happy by the end of the Season.” Mr. Hopscotch rose. “He wants you to know he will be forever in your debt and at your service should you ever need him. Now, I hope to see proof of your upcoming nuptials in print in the next few days. Good day, Your Grace.”
“The devil take it.” Bray swore under his breath as he watched the robust man casually walk away as if they had talked about nothing other than the lousy weather. What the hell was the Prince trying to do in strong-arming him about Miss Prim?
Everyone knew Bray wasn’t easily intimidated. Not by Mr. Hopscotch or the Prince. But he shouldn’t be surprised that the Prince thought he could easily coerce him into doing his bidding, because most people would jump at the chance to please the Prince. They had both better think again. Not even his father had been successful in making Bray do anything he didn’t want to do.
He picked up his wine and downed half of it. The Prince would just have to do what every other gentleman did and pay his own gambling debts or suffer the consequences.
Whatever they may be.
Bray had no doubt he could eventually talk Miss Prim into marrying him, but did he want to? At least he now knew she was more than attractive and would not be an unwelcome bedmate. He smiled as he thought of her sparkling blue eyes, tousled sunset-colored hair, and full desirable lips. No, he’d have no problem at all taking Miss Prim into his bedchamber.
Bray looked around the room for a server so he could order another glass of wine and saw Seaton leaning against the doorframe. His arms were folded across his chest, and one foot lay crossed over the other ankle. He looked quite perturbed.
“Oh, hell,” Bray whispered to himself. The next time he wanted a drink and a little peace, he’d have to go home to find them.
Chapter 7
Strong reasons make strong actions.
—King John, act 3, scene 4
It was a usual start to her day.
Louisa and her sisters were always early to bed and early to rise. That schedule hadn’t changed just because they had moved to L
ondon. At a young age, Louisa had realized it was better to sleep when it was dark and be up at first light. There were so many more interesting things to be done during the day that couldn’t be done at night. She never wanted to waste a minute of daylight sleeping.
During breakfast with her sisters, there was more discourse of the visit from the duke. Louisa had remained quiet and let her sisters talk. It was clear they were a little intimidated by the tall impressive gentleman, even though Sybil insisted she wasn’t. Both Gwen and Lillian thought him handsome, and when they looked to Louisa for her agreement, she merely shrugged at first, hoping that would satisfy her thirsty little sisters, but they would not be content. They were too eager to know her thoughts. Later, as they pressed her, she had to admit the duke was quite pleasant to look at, but much too arrogant to be pleasant to talk to.
There was also a discussion about the arrival of the stern-looking Mrs. Ramona Colthrust, whom only Louisa and Gwen had met before the lady shut herself into her room for the evening. Louisa indulged the girls’ chattering for a long time, and well after breakfast was finished. It was Mrs. Trumpington who finally shooed them out of the breakfast room so she could start the cleanup.
It was the first day of warm, beautiful sunshine since arriving in London, so Louisa suggested they spend time in the back garden. She gave her sisters the choice of playing games, reading, or joining her to explore the grounds and try to name all the different types of shrubs, plants, and flowers that were budding and getting ready to bloom. The grounds were much smaller than the Wayebury estate, but each girl found something to do.
After the morning’s outside entertainment, Louisa sent Lillian and Gwen abovestairs to their makeshift schoolroom on the second floor with Miss Kindred, who swore she was getting too old to go up and down the stairs several times a day. She preferred to always have the girls come to her. Louisa left it up to the governess to decide the assignments for the day, be they lessons in history, mythology, and arithmetic or painting, music, and poetry.
