Defying the Earl

by Anabelle Bryant

  “Take this payment as security you have my complete support. It is a token amount, but be assured an additional ten thousand pounds await your execution of this new endeavor.”

  The earl thrust the paper forward and Valerian accepted it in numb consent. How the facts had reassembled in the span of one evening spent away from London proved mind-jarring. Still, where once he served to destroy Leonard’s interest, he held no doubt he could bring the couple back together. The two were obviously besotted. His brain deliberated the outcome and a smile curled his lips. Ten thousand pounds would provide a layer of security to his tenuous situation.

  With certainty, the insult to his conscience would repair once he began rebuilding the earldom in his father’s name. A shimmer of hope took hold as he tucked the paper away and a bright headline graced his imagination:

  Earl of Dashwood Achieves Heroic Redemption.

  He forced his feet into motion and aimed toward the bank at the corner of Bond Street. His mind raveled through the list of payments due the first of the month. Hopeful rays of optimism struggled to take hold, stuttering a suggestion that somehow Rigby’s payment would offer relief, albeit temporary. Food, firewood, and wages were priority.

  His footsteps slowed as he approached the pawn shop he’d visited before he’d met Whimsy. Warmth washed away fatigue at the sudden image. Her mud-speckled cheeks and exasperated smile were but one of the many expressions he kept tucked away whenever he needed an escape from reality. She’d looked lovely at Lady Collingsworth’s dinner party. A ray of sunshine at Lady Bitford’s garden party.

  Despite Leonard’s initial report, she seemed to live in a different world than he, traveling in affluent circles, rubbing elbows with society’s cream. Had his life developed differently, she’d be a woman to whom he could offer his heart. Unbidden, Caroline’s memory intruded on his reverie and he successfully suppressed the remembrance, Caroline’s face no longer clear in his thoughts, the pain of her rejection more history than emotion.

  Giving his head a firm shake he paused in front of the pawn shop’s large window. Random items littered the display; odd, neglected pieces of other people’s lives. A brass creamer and sugar bowl set atop a crystal charger, a pair of carved onyx candlesticks beside three chalk-ware figurines, one depicting a soldier in full uniform. There was an ornate gold-gilded mirror leaning against a wooden trunk and a velvet tray angled to showcase delicate items that glittered in the sunlight.

  Attracted in much the way the owner intended, Valerian peered closer at the array of jewelry strewn across the bed of the case. A small cameo brooch displayed the refined profile of a young woman. Emerald earbobs blinked in the light, but it was his mother’s charm, dangling by a pin angled into the black velvet that caused his heart to clench. Had he any sense, he’d use the funds Rigby supplied to reclaim it, but he forced the thought out of mind and turned abruptly, heedlessly stepping into the flow of strangers bustling down the pavement on their way to important places or nowhere in particular.+

  Repaying accrued debt with the newfound funds remained paramount. Sentiment would have to wait, as often it did.

  “Lady Wilhelmina, thank you for meeting me on short notice. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced your plans for the afternoon.” Lady Rigby settled into the empty seat in the reading corner of McMulberry’s Literary Emporium a mere minute past their planned appointment time.

  “Not at all. I’m anxious to speak to you as well. You must be confused as to why Leonard has not declared his intentions for Fiona when it seemed they were well on their way to happily-ever-after and now are hardly speaking; but I assure you I have the situation under control.” Daring a bit more encouragement she added, “London is a-flurry with the romanticism of it all.”

  “I’d rather they were agog with the details of the most prestigious wedding of the season.” The marchioness offered a tight smile and Wilhelmina plunged into an explanation she’d rehearsed ad infinitum all morning.

  “Fiona and I have become fast friends. She confides in me and I assure you she possesses deep feelings for your son. This evening we are attending Lady Sumner’s poetry assembly. Nothing inspires romance more than the sound of a love sonnet recited in deep tenor.” At the marchioness’ solemn expression, Wilhelmina experienced a surge of panic. “I’m sure this evening will bear the results for which we both strive. In fact, I guarantee it.”

  “Perhaps, although the emotional frivolity of today’s young people fails to amuse me. In truth, my patience is worn thin. As anxious as I am to hold a grandchild in my arms, I’m more concerned Leonard will make a rash choice if Lady Fiona refuses his proposal.” She pursed her lips as if considering her next words with care. “I have the underlying suspicion Lord Rigby is acting to thwart my success with this union. He fails miserably at hiding ulterior motives. It’s a wonder he accomplishes so much in Parliament without his opposition reading his every thought, but I know my husband well. I depend on your success, dear.”

  Wilhelmina chose silence as the best reply and with no further conversation the ladies made to leave at the same time two gentlemen entered the bibliography section, their voices louder than appropriate for a bookshop, the vivid design of the shorter man’s waistcoat an outlandish fashion statement matched by his brash laughter in the otherwise tranquil shop.

  Lady Rigby excused herself promptly and bustled from the aisle with purpose. Wilhelmina made quick to follow, not wishing to draw unwanted attention.

  Valerian withdrew from Lady Sumner’s salon without notice and continued to the back of the house where he slipped down the rear stairs. Much as he’d hoped, the wine cellar presented the perfect location for devious subterfuge. Once he maneuvered his quarry to a secluded corner, he’d suggest a particular vintage from the hostess and request a view of her collection. Together they would happen upon Leonard and Fiona, unchaperoned and intimately tucked away; then, at last, he’d secure ten thousand pounds of financial security.

  He lifted the brass key from the hook above the doorway, locked the knob so it stood at the ready, and slipped the key into his breast pocket. Once trapped, he didn’t want either unsuspecting participant escaping; most especially after he’d gained Lady Sumner’s attention and convinced her she needed to accompany him downstairs.

  With his plan in place, he returned to the drawing room and lifted a brandy from a servant’s plentiful tray. He’d been gone less than ten minutes, but several guests had joined the poetry assembly and with the women clustered in the salon and the majority of men in the drawing room, locating anyone seemed an exercise in futility. Animated readings could be heard in every corner despite the thick crowd.

  He moved to the double paneled doors near the foyer to gain a better vantage point and instantly spied Wilhelmina near the front window, the glow from a nearby candelabrum glossing over her wavy tresses in every shade of burnished bronze, her smile incandescent. His heart thudded a heavy beat. She epitomized romance. Her eyes twinkled with enchantment and her lovely heart-shaped face evoked the muse. What was it about the lady? Could it be on some level she reminded him of Caroline?

  With a grimace, he dismissed the thought as soon as it formed. Caroline had a solemn seriousness he’d interpreted as depth and maturity, and later discovered was shallow selfishness in its purest form.

  Wilhelmina couldn’t be more different. Whimsy was effervescent, optimistic, and possessed a natural cheekiness he suspected brightened the room no matter where she stood. Her eyes were as warm and comforting as a late night toddy and somehow reminded him of Kirby Park, no matter the comparison made not one whit of sense. Nothing seemed to protect his heart from her natural gravitation. She pulled at him from the inside out, as though their souls spoke to one another.

  Yet his sentimental assessment could go no further as an outburst of impetuous laughter jarred his attention to the main hall where Jasper and Randolph entered.

  Zooks! Whatsoever were those two doing here? Combining Jasper and Beaufort with serious poe
try enthusiasts was like hiding donkeys in the stable with prize Arabians. They wouldn’t blend. Valerian tossed off the remainder of drink and strode across the tiles as the two entered the drawing room.

  “Fancy meeting you here, Dash.” Jasper surveyed the room with a sweep of his eyes then returned his attention to Valerian. Beside him, Randolph tugged at the hem of his waistcoat, a unique design embellished with heliotrope, puce, and canary embroidery that clashed violently with his complexion.

  “Likewise, I’m equally shocked.” Valerian nodded in Randolph’s direction. “Beaufort, is this your influence?”

  “Not at all.” Randy began. “This afternoon Jasper and I were doing a bit of research at McMulberry’s Literary Emporium where we met Lady Sumner in the poetry aisle.”

  “What were the two of you doing in the poetry aisle if you have no interest in the craft?” It seemed the logical question, although Val doubted it would gain him the understanding he desired.

  “Oh, we wanted nothing to do with the books. Jasper thought it the perfect place to conduct our experiment.”

  This earned Randolph a shove on the shoulder from Jasper. Valerian’s dread increased significantly. “No more capricious schemes. I thought we had an understanding.” He aimed his comment at his brother but it would do no harm if Randy paid heed.

  “There’s nothing to grow knaggy about. Let it be,” Jasper implored with wide eyes. “Lady Sumner invited us and as men of stripe, Randolph and I are in search of a sonnet or two. We will leave you.” And with that, the two men melted into the crowd unaware of Valerian’s tolerant scowl.

  “Why would Leonard wish for me to leave the assembly and meet him downstairs in the wine cellar? This note is concerning.” Fiona shook her head and scanned the foolscap unfolded on her palm. “Lord Dashwood pressed it into my hand and mumbled something indecipherable before he briskly walked away. I’m confused. Do you think Leonard is angry with me?” Her voice exposed a quiver of emotion. “Things have been lovely between us despite my foolishness. If he seeks to speak with me privately, why doesn’t he say so?”

  “I can’t imagine, and it troubles me to see you upset. Does the note hold any other clue?”

  “None at all. I suppose I could question Dashwood if I locate him in this crush, but if Leonard asked him to deliver this message, I should consider it with seriousness.” Fiona darted her eyes across the hall in search of some source of reassurance. “What if my mother looks for me? She’ll be furious if she discovers I’ve gone missing without explanation.”

  “Good heavens.” Wilhelmina struggled for a ready solution. “Why don’t I go downstairs and explain to Leonard you’re uncomfortable with this arrangement and rather he’d call for you tomorrow afternoon as proper? No one knows he’s suggested you break away and truly, I doubt anyone would wonder were I to vanish for five minutes. Would that help ease your nerves?”

  “Oh yes. You are the truest, Whimsy. I am so happy we’ve become dear friends.” Fiona squeezed Wilhelmina’s hands. “Go to him now so he doesn’t wait unnecessarily and then we can enjoy the evening’s poetry together. I don’t want you to miss the Byron presentation at my expense.”

  Wilhelmina smiled in agreement. “I’m looking forward to it. I’ll return shortly. Don’t worry another moment.” She wove her way through the crowded salon and only paused to peer into the drawing room in hope of catching Leonard before he ventured downstairs, but no luck was to be had. As she departed, a startling commotion arose from the far corner behind the grand piano. Pleased with the diversion to disguise her ruse, Wilhelmina hurried through the doorway and headed toward the backstairs.

  “Blazes, now what’s gone wrong?” Valerian bit his tongue to sever the expletives hot to erupt as a tray of hors d’oeuvres upended in Leonard Rigby’s lap, the gentleman soaked with champagne and smoked salmon due to an exuberant guest’s demonstrative recitation. The indistinguishable poetry enthusiast had flailed his arms while articulating a passionate verse in sepulchral tones and unwittingly collided with a servant who circulated the room. Valerian scowled as Leonard offered quick apologies and made a beeline for the front hall where the butler could summon his carriage.

  What would he do now? Fiona likely waited in the wine cellar. Leonard was already out the door. Valerian took a fortifying breath and once again moved to the rear of the house, and down the stairs, his mind spinning an ill-begotten plan. He would tell Fiona in quick fashion that Leonard was detained and then remove himself for fear the same fate he wished to perpetuate, would befall him by means of bad luck. He could see the headline in the morning post:

  Destitute Dashwood Marries Devastated Debutante.

  He grabbed the hand candle at the entrance to the cellar and stepped into the dim interior lined from floor to ceiling with racks of glistening bottles laden with red and white wine. He turned and neatly closed the door to safeguard no one would overhear the conversation, then huffed a short exhale and called Fiona’s name.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Leonard?” Wilhelmina rounded the oak cask that marked the end of an aisle of bottles and stalled mid-step. Dashwood stood before her, illuminated by the ethereal glow of a single candle as if a forbidden dream. “What are you doing here?” Her tone went as prickly as the unexpected gooseflesh dotting her skin.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, his unwavering gaze perused her person from head to toe with lackadaisical amusement, deepening the penetrating gleam in his eye. She felt his assessment, his glance much more than a tender caress, his stare the prelude to intimacy. She shuffled to the side, uncomfortably exposed and at the same time, excited. Warmth heated her cheeks despite the shiver that flittered through her ribs like a butterfly caught in a net.

  At last, when she assumed he would not answer, he spoke. “I’m here to inform Fiona that Leonard is indisposed. He didn’t wish for her to wait unnecessarily.” His voice sounded more murmur than explanation, and gooseflesh renewed, this time to the sheerest layer of her intimate undergarments.

  “Indisposed?” Her retort flirted with pure exasperation. “First Leonard invites Fiona to a clandestine meeting and then he sends you to deliver his apology. He’s making this courtship increasingly more difficult.” She ended on a wan note of despair and perhaps disappointment reflected in her expression.

  “Is that your goal, Whimsy? To see Fiona and Leonard betrothed? Or are you after Leonard for your own heart?”

  She sent him a quelling look no matter he inched closer. Wilhelmina had the sudden urge to run. But to where? They were behind closed doors two floors below the assembly.

  “Nonsense. Anyone can see Fiona and Leonard belong together.” She adopted an indignant tone. “Were he to sort out his feelings and offer her a bauble or token of his affection…” The words trailed off as she contemplated the suggestion.

  “Playing Cupid, are you? Do you fancy yourself a matchmaker or if things have gone awry, perhaps a miss-matcher? Leonard suspects you possess a tendre for him.”

  She inhaled sharply at how clearly he’d suggested her ruse and aimed at deflection to turn the conversation to a more acceptable subject. “How do you know my childhood name? Who told you?”

  “As jumpy as a rabbit caught in the cabbage patch.” He chuckled and the sound settled deep in her stomach, swirling and twirling, as if it were alive. “The endearment fits. Shuffling place cards at dinner or knee-deep in a mud puddle.” He canted his head to the right and viewed her as if seeing her for the first time, his eyes sparkling with humor, his words filled with devilment. “You’re nothing at all like the prim ladies upstairs.”

  “I’m not the subject for discussion.” She took a stride forward despite she remained unsure of his meaning. “Open the door, please. We need to return abovestairs.”

  One side of his mouth hitched in a smile. “The door is locked.”

  His eyes never left hers, so how could he be sure?

  “Locked? From the outside?” She could almost feel the color drain from her face.
“Whosoever has the key?” She gulped a breath to diffuse her panic, but instead her traitorous senses alerted to the scent of neroli and cloves. Inhaling the warm, simmering fragrance turned the frantic beat of her heart into a heavy, steady thud, resurrecting the burning memory of their kiss at the garden party. Her cheeks reheated and she prayed he would not detect her embarrassment in the dim light.

  He stood before her, calm and assured, dressed in a chestnut-colored waistcoat and buff trousers. The candle he held outlined his profile with a golden flame that heightened the strong angles of his face, the delicious cleft in his chin and charming glitter of his midnight-blue eyes. Damnation, he was handsome. She licked her lips and begged her pulse to calm.

  “There’s no reason to panic. The party’s in full swing and I doubt anyone noticed our absence. The front rooms were packed from floor to ceiling because the main presentation had just begun.”

  “Byron.” Her single whisper expressed eternal dismay, but she shook the emotion away. “That doesn’t mean I’d choose to be trapped in a cellar with you, Lord Dashwood.”

  “So formal, all of a sudden.” The hint of a smile played at his lips again and his voice held a velvety resonance. “My friends call me Dash or Valerian, if you prefer.”

  “I’d prefer to be returned upstairs with my reputation untarnished.” Best she give him a taste of her tart tongue to dissuade the sudden thought of familiarities. “We hardly know each other besides a few coincidental social functions and a –”

  “Kiss.”

  Somehow he’d gotten much closer, his one word evoking a thousand emotions.

  “You haven’t forgotten our kiss, have you? Do you need a reminder?”

  For a breath and a half, her mind spun with the thrill of his question. Then she quickly reassembled. “We hardly know each other besides a few coincidental social functions and a ridiculous inconvenience such as this.” Her words trailed to a whisper as he continued to close the distance between them. Where once she’d felt gooseflesh prickle her skin, a sheen of anticipation replaced the sensation, while her heart beat a rapid dance of excitement and…fear? No, a long simmering desire blanketed any objection to be made. Good lord, what was she to do if he took the final steps to bring them nose to nose in the dim light of a few guttered candles?