A Lady for the Brazen Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “I know that many paint me as a philanthropist who is inordinately difficult to deal with. For many, that is true. But I am only difficult to deal with because I hear no end of ill-conceived schemes which are designed more as an occupation for bored ladies rather than a genuine effort to help others. And let me tell you, Lady Pennington, as difficult a man as I might be, when I am presented with such firm ideas which are based on such detailed investigations, I am a generous man.”

  “Am I to understand, Sir, that you might find yourself interested in helping our cause?”

  “I am,” he said firmly. “Tell me, what is the plan that you and Adeline have between you?”

  “We seek to lead by example, Sir. We should like to fund a building that we can use as an alternative to the workhouse. Not a permanent shelter, but one which seeks to help a person who has fallen on hard times to survive whilst they attempt to put things right again. That is why we would ask nothing in return from them, but encourage them and help them to secure proper employment and subsequently proper accommodation.”

  “By many, you will be seen to be undermining the workhouse system,” he said without any hint of his view on the matter.

  “Yes, and I hope that we shall. It is my belief, strongly held, that the workhouse system is inherently corrupt. I realize that one shelter in London will not solve the problem. But I would like to think that it would inspire others of a charitable nature to recreate the scheme we have devised once they have seen it in operation.”

  “Thereby encouraging others to effect real change,” the Earl said with just about the most encouraging tone that Heath had ever heard him use.

  “That is my dearest wish, and the dearest wish of Lady Adeline also.”

  “And with a brave soul and a relentless determination such as your own, I have no doubt that you will achieve it. Here is my card,” he said, and Heath smiled to himself as he imagined the elderly Earl reaching into his battered tailcoat for his card. “I should like you to attend me on Monday morning if you will. I would be very glad to discuss your plans further, and I shall decide then upon the level of financial support I shall give. But please believe me that I shall give you the financial support, and if you are successful, I shall likely continue it.”

  “I cannot thank you enough, Sir. Not only for your support but for allowing me to speak so freely upon the subject. There are not many who have shown the interest that you have, and I am perfectly well aware that many who have given have given only to quieten me. To have your understanding is something that money cannot buy.”

  As Heath listened to the tail end of the conversation between Lady Pennington and the Earl of Marchmount, he found himself wishing that he too had paid her words a little more attention and had not rushed to make judgements and to mock.

  Whilst it was true that he had never had any particular interest in charitable works, he had found himself utterly transfixed by the case she had put to Lord Marchmount. Not only transfixed by her words, but by her determination and passion. For they were the things which had made the plan seem to come alive, not only for himself but doubtless for Lord Marchmount also.

  Heath let out a small sigh, knowing that his interest in Imogen Pennington was not about to lessen at any point in the near future. In truth, he thought that it could only grow from that moment. How he wished he had given a better account of himself in the beginning.

  Heath did what he could to rejoin the conversation of his own small party. Miss Ravenswood’s father had returned to the group, having been absent for some time in conversation with a friend he had not seen for a while.

  As Prudence did a good job of keeping Jemima Ravenswood entertained, Heath could see that his mother and Lord Ravenswood were in close conversation. He decided that he would move around the group and insert himself into that conversation, keen to know what it was they discussed so intently.

  However, the moment he approached, his mother looked up and smiled at him. Lord Ravenswood coughed loudly and looked all around, giving every impression that he had been caught out in some devious act.

  Heath almost laughed; Lord Ravenswood was obviously not as well practiced in the art of deception as his dear mother was.

  “It is a fine afternoon, is it not?” Lord Ravenswood said a little too loudly.

  “It most certainly is, my dear fellow,” Heath said, highly amused before turning his attention upon his mother and raising his eyebrows.

  “Lord Ravenswood and I were just remarking on what a fine thing the London Season is for young people,” she said significantly.

  “Yes, the society is plentiful,” Heath said, finally able to cast a surreptitious glance at Imogen Pennington. “And varied,” Heath continued, a little wistfully.

  “Perhaps a little too varied.” His mother looked pointedly over in the direction of Lady Pennington before turning to Lord Ravenswood again. “Really, I strongly suspect that dreadful young woman has only come to London to exploit us all.”

  “Oh yes, some sort of charity thing, is it not?” Ravenswood said in a tone which dripped sarcasm. “But really, if one gave to them all, one would end by being a cause for charity themselves.” He hooted with laughter.

  “Quite so,” Lady Veronica agreed wholeheartedly.

  “Perhaps that is not quite the case,” Heath said and tried to appear nonchalant, despite his ever-growing disdain for the captain of industry.

  “I do not believe in cossetting the poor. It makes them lazy,” Ravenswood spoke loudly and with all the arrogance of a man who assumed that his good fortune was all his own doing. “If you give to them without any obligation on their part, then they are seduced into doing nothing. After all, why work when they can live in luxury at the expense of the rest of us?” Ravenswood snorted confidently as if he had just come upon a most original and clever idea.

  “I could not agree more, Lord Ravenswood.” Heath’s mother was ready to say whatever Ravenswood wanted to hear, and Heath could not help wishing that she would not encourage him.

  “My dear Heath, do escort me to the refreshments, I am quite parched,” Prudence said and fixed Heath with a knowing stare.

  “Of course,” he said brightly and held his arm out for his sister to take. “Do excuse us for a moment,” he spoke cheerfully to his company, but only because he was relieved to have been offered the chance of some brief respite from them all.

  “It is going to be an awfully long Season,” Prudence whispered as they walked away.

  “It certainly is,” Heath agreed, and they laughed. “And I cannot thank you enough for your thirst.”

  “I was never truly thirsty.” She squeezed his arm, and he again had the curious feeling that their old friendship was somehow renewed.

  “Then I thank you for your wit and cunning.”

  When they reached one of the many long tables draped in white lace cloths and filled with copious amounts of food and drink, Heath asked for two glasses of champagne.

  “Impressive, is she not?” his sister said suddenly.

  “Who?” Heath turned to look at her. “Our mother? Surely not.” He lowered his brows in thought. “Oh, Miss Ravenswood. Well, she is very pretty,” he said but thought the young lady far from impressive.

  “Lady Pennington,” Prudence said simply.

  “Lady Pennington?” Heath parroted and felt suddenly a little exposed. “Well, I daresay she has merit.” He tried to sound unaffected.

  “Well, it would appear that the Duke of Dalton agrees with me if you do not.” Prudence sounded amused as she regarded him intently.

  Heath could not help himself; he turned to look back to the place where Lady Pennington stood and could see that the Duke had indeed made his way to join her.

  “Do not try to deny your feelings for too long, Brother, or you shall risk being the loser in the end.”

  Chapter 15

  “You have a note, my dear,” Adeline said, bustling into the drawing room with a big smile on her face. “It must be from the
Earl of Reddington.”

  “Why must it be from the Earl?” Imogen said but feared the worst.

  “Well, it is written in a very masculine hand.” Adeline sat on the sofa beside her as she handed her the thick writing paper, folded neatly and sealed with red wax.

  “So are letters from my father.” Imogen knew that she was being obtuse.

  “Oh, just open it.”

  The note was mercifully short, but when Imogen took in its contents, she realized that things were so much worse than she had originally thought. Not only that, but she had not been expecting it. She turned to Adeline with a worried expression before looking back down at the letter and beginning to read it aloud.

  “My dear Lady Pennington,

  I must admit to enjoying your company a good deal at my garden party of just days ago and am writing to express my dearest wish that you are still going to attend the afternoon buffet at the home of Lord and Lady Castleton.

  I am certain that you said you would be in attendance and maintain high hopes that you will, in the end, be present.

  Nathanial Carswell, Duke of Dalton."

  When Imogen read out his name, Adeline gasped.

  “Well, goodness me,” Adeline said breathlessly and raised her hands to her chest nervously. “I had not expected that.”

  “And neither had I, Adeline,” Imogen said, feeling things had suddenly become very much more complicated in her world. “Although I perhaps ought to have suspected something.”

  “He did pay some little attention to you at the garden party, but you mentioned nothing about it. I thought it was quite a simple thing.”

  “It was simple enough, Adeline. But I must admit, I did have a suspicion that there was some interest in me on his part. But I promise you, I did nothing to return it.”

  “No, and I would not have thought so either. He is pleasant enough to look at, and I even think his manners very nice,” Adeline began but looked dubious. “But there is something that I cannot put my finger on about the man. Whatever it is, I am certain that I do not like him.”

  “I cannot say that I perceived anything about him that I would not like particularly, but I do not find myself drawn to him and should not like him to have the wrong impression on the matter.” Imogen began to feel disquieted.

  “No, indeed. We must think about it and approach the thing sensibly.” Adeline, getting over her shock, had returned to her ordinary robustness of tone, and Imogen felt a little better for it; Adeline always knew what to do.

  “Perhaps I ought not to attend the afternoon buffet at all,” Imogen said and looked at Adeline in hopes of seeing her friend in full agreement.

  “Oh no, you must not do that. For one thing, it would give great offence to the Duke of Dalton because he should know then that you are hiding from him."

  “But that is exactly what I should like him to know.”

  “No, the problem with that is that he might have discussed his approach with somebody else, and your failure to arrive would be ever more offensive.”

  “But if I am not interested in him at all, surely sooner or later he will take offence anyway.” Imogen really did not want to go and was not entirely sure if she much minded offending the Duke of Dalton. After all, in her opinion, he had been very presumptuous.

  “It is quite alright for you to declare yourself not at all interested. That is the normal way of things, and the Duke cannot expect some sort of understanding from you if you have declared otherwise. But for you not to go at all displays a level of revulsion at his approach, rather than simply being uninterested. It is a little too forthright, I am afraid.”

  “I see what you mean,” Imogen said and sounded defeated. “Oh, if only men would keep their approaches to themselves.”

  “Or at least the ones that we are not interested in, Imogen,” Adeline said and boomed with laughter. “Really, you are quite unique.”

  “Well, this whole business of romance, look at the trouble it causes. And look at the time and effort it takes to think about it all and make sure one is not hurting somebody’s feelings or bruising their ego. And that is time and energy that I could spend on the very cause I came here to raise money for."

  “Have no fear of it all, Imogen. We shall deal with this between us in as polite and sensible a manner as possible. You do not want to cause something of a flap which will excite gossip and detract from our purpose."

  “Oh no, I never thought of it like that. Really, I think the Duke is being most selfish.”

  “But I daresay he does not realize it.” Adeline chuckled. “And in any case, you have everything to be pleased about. After all, you alone have landed what is likely to be our biggest fish of the entire hunt.”

  “Fish? Hunt?” Imogen felt better already; Adeline really did say the most curious things at times. “You do know that people do not hunt for fish.”

  “You are being awkward again,” Adeline said and laughed. “My point is that you have the keen interest of the Earl of Marchmount. That is no mean feat, Imogen, and you ought to be extremely proud.”

  “I must admit, when I had finished speaking with him yesterday, I felt myself quite exhausted. But really, he was not quite the fearsome ogre I had expected when I saw the frightened look on Lady Rossington’s face.”

  “Ah, but he can be quite intimidating if one has not impressed him. And perhaps Lady Rossington, as she herself admitted, did not put forward the best case she could have. Which means that you did and it is that for which you must be very pleased.” Adeline was smiling at her warmly. “And I am very proud.”

  “And you are very naughty as well,” Imogen scolded playfully. “You might have mentioned that you already knew him and, not only that but very well. You could have given me all sorts of advice before you sent me over to him, or you could even have gone yourself and found him most ready to part with his money.”

  “I can see I am in trouble.” Adeline smiled.

  “Yes, you are. And you would have been in trouble yesterday afternoon, but I was just too excited with everything and so pleased that he heard me out at least.”

  “He did more than hear you out; he made a promise to donate money. And he truly does have a great personal fortune, and when he does give, he gives largely.”

  “I am almost as nervous at the idea of calling upon Lord Marchmount tomorrow as I was in speaking to him yesterday.”

  “Well, let me finally give you the benefit of many years of knowledge of him. You do not need to worry, Imogen. His mind is made up, and he will not go back on his word.”

  “It is some comfort to know that I cannot ruin things, then.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Then all I have to worry about for a little while is Lord and Lady Castleton’s buffet on Wednesday afternoon. That and the Duke, of course.”

  “Really, I have never known a young lady so brought down by the idea that she is being courted by a man of great title; a Duke, no less.”

  “Well, I am, Adeline.” Imogen winced. “Are you absolutely sure I must attend?”

  “Yes!” Adeline threw her hands up in the air. “And if the Duke is in attendance, and Lord Marchmount’s generosity is somehow made clear, then we might find ourselves receiving many public donations.”

  “Oh yes,” Imogen said, a little excited by the idea and pleased that she had something else to think about other than the Duke of Dalton. “But how will Lord Marchmount’s generosity be made clear?”

  “Oh, just leave it with me. It is not something that you need to worry about.”

  “And it has now become something I dare not ask,” Imogen said with a laugh. “Really, I do love you, Adeline, but I do sometimes wonder if you are not more cunning than a fox.”

  “I must admit, to me, that is a great compliment.”

  “I knew it would be.”

  “Anyway, I am going to ring the bell for tea and, whilst I wait for it, perhaps you would be so good as to tell me exactly everything that passed between you and
the Duke that he finds himself unable to attend an afternoon buffet unless he knows that you will be there.” Adeline pulled the bell rope firmly and then made her way back to the couch to sit beside Imogen. “Well, pray tell.”

  Imogen thought back to the events of the day before. With her conversation with Lord Marchmount fully drawn to a close, she felt truly victorious and so pleased that even her body felt quite different, almost as if she glowed somehow.

  Lord Marchmount had drifted away to speak to one of his many acquaintances at the garden party, but he had kindly left her in the company of Lady Hanbury who, having seen the pair talking, had made her way as close as possible to them, almost inch by inch.

  Lady Hanbury was most keen to have the details of the little interview before everybody else, and it would seem that the great task she had set herself had become the talk amongst the small group of charitable ladies in attendance.