“A laudable cause.” The blue eyes narrowed. “There are those who consider you a radical.”
Wondering if the wily aristocrat were deliberately attempting to rattle him, Edward forced himself to take a deep breath and consider his answer.
Hasty words only led to tragedy.
“A wise man recently told me that there was a distinct difference between a radical and a revolutionary,” he at last said in low tones.
A silver brow arched. “You think yourself a revolutionary?”
“I think that power carries a sacred duty to help those who are in no position to help themselves.” He briefly glanced about the room that carried with it the smell of old leather and older wealth. “My title is more than houses and farms and priceless collections. It is servants and tenants and families who depend upon me to do what is right for them.”
The Duke of Lockharte absorbed his words in silence before a shocking smile curved his lips.
“I can almost believe you are sincere, Harrington. Most rare in such a young man.”
Edward tossed back the contents of the glass before setting it aside. It was all going well. Far too well. He sensed he was being skillfully led into a neat trap.
The devious old coot.
Deciding to take the bull by the horn, he lifted his chin and met the piercing blue eyes.
“You know why I am here, Your Grace?”
The gentleman set aside his own glass before settling more comfortably in his chair. A master chessman preparing for battle.
“Bianca spoke with me yesterday.”
“I am aware that my bloodlines are not all that you would wish and that society might never fully accept me.” He spoke the words before the Duke could toss them into his face. “But I do not believe any man would ever love your daughter more than I.”
“Love is not all that I seek for my daughter. It is more important that she discover a husband who will treat her with the care she deserves.”
“I will do everything in my power to ensure her happiness. I can make no greater promise than that.”
They stared at one another. Man to man. Not threatening but silently measuring.
“She is stubborn and inclined to believe that she always knows best.” The Duke broke the silence. “She will not be a comfortable wife.”
Comfortable? Edward choked back the urge to laugh. Bianca would no doubt lead him a merry dance that would ensure his days never had a moment’s peace.
“I have never sought the easy path.”
“No, I do not suppose you have,” the older man murmured in agreement.
Edward slowly leaned forward. “May we depend upon your blessing?”
“You have no need of it. Bianca is of age and seemingly quite determined to become your wife.”
Sensing he was being tested, Edward gave a shake of his head. “No. If I have learned anything of Bianca, it is that she cares for you very much. She would be deeply saddened if you were to oppose our match. I would not have her begin our life together in such a manner.”
His brows rose in surprise. “You would walk away from her?”
“Never, but I would do whatever necessary to win your approval.”
“Hmmm.” The lined countenance was impossible to read. “She has told you that she has no dowry?”
“I have no need for a dowry.”
“And if I seek funds to stave off the vultures?”
Edward did not hesitate. “You are soon to be my family. I will do whatever is needed to assist.”
Without warning, the silver head tilted back as the Duke chuckled with unexpected humor.
“A rare man, indeed.”
Edward frowned, not certain whether to be relieved or terrified. “If you wish to contact my man of business…”
“You may keep your fortune, son,” he interrupted brusquely. “Although I may not be as flushed in the pocket as you, I am more than comfortable.”
The frown deepened. This time in shock.
“You are not in need of funds?”
“No.”
“But…” Edward pondered a long moment. “You lied to your daughter?”
There was not the least hint of guilt upon the arrogant features. “I protected her from crass fortune hunters. Not an easy task, I must tell you. There are those gentlemen who will stoop to any means to turn a female’s head.”
“Still—”
“Enough,” the nobleman barked. “I did what was necessary. And now you will reap the benefits.”
With an effort, Edward bit back his instinctive distaste for such blatant manipulation of his beloved. He was a straightforward man who found such devious means abhorrent.
Now, however, did not seem the most suitable moment to point out his objections.
“I have your agreement?” he demanded instead.
An odd smile abruptly softened the stark features as the Duke leaned forward to pour them both a measure of the rich burgundy.
“More than my agreement. You have my utmost admiration. I have chosen very well.”
Edward stilled, wondering if the man had misspoken.
“You have chosen?”
“A toast.” The Duke ignored the soft question as he raised his glass. “To Edward and Bianca, may they be blessed with love and friendship throughout the years.”
A sharp flare of satisfaction settled in Edward’s heart, dismissing the momentary curiosity. He had done it. Against all odds he had managed to capture the woman of his dreams.
And now nothing stood in their way.
Nothing.
Touching his glass to his companion’s, he resisted the urge to shout out his joy.
“To love.”
Intent on their private conversation, neither noticed the golden-haired gentleman hidden by the large potted palm. Nor the ugly smile that twisted his lips as he raised his own glass in a silent toast.
Well, well, well. Lady Bianca was precisely what he had thought her to be.
A wealthy young lady with a father who wielded enough power to ease all his troubles.
It seemed the future for Lord Aldron was not nearly so dark as he had begun to fear.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bianca tugged upon the silver locket until the chain threatened to break.
Men were without a doubt the most aggravating of creatures.
Both her father and Edward must know she would be upon pins and needles to learn what had happened during their interview. For God’s sake, it was her future they were discussing.
But while she had refused to step so much as a foot outside the townhouse, and had even delayed leaving for the Braxton’s musicale until she was more than fashionably late, she had not heard a word from either gentleman.
She was going to choke the both of them, she decided as she gave the necklace another jerk.
Or take off her slipper and beat them over the head with it.
Anything that might jiggle loose a bit of sense in their thick skulls.
Glancing impatiently over her shoulder at the empty doorway, Bianca heaved a sigh of relief as the aria screeched to a halt and the guests were allowed a brief respite from the painful schedule of entertainment.
She was out of her seat before her mother could lecture her upon proper decorum and on her way to the hallway, where she hoped Edward, or even her father, might be lurking.
She was just stepping through the entryway when a uniformed footman approached her and, with a small bow, handed her a folded note.
Her heart gave a leap of excitement as she smoothed the paper and read the short missive.
I await you in the conservatory. Do not keep me waiting, my dearest love.
Edward.
It could be no one else.
Tucking the note into her glove, she did not hesitate as she hurried down the staircase and headed toward the back of the townhouse. Thankfully, her mother was well aware of her dislike for such tedious musicales and would presume she was hiding in the withdrawing room until it
was safe to leave.
She could disappear without causing a murmur.
A tingle of anticipation feathered down her spine as she searched the maze of hallways until at last she discovered the one that led to the conservatory.
Dear lord, she was utterly shameless, she acknowledged with a small smile. She had spent hours in Edward’s arms quenching her passion last eve. He had taught her there were any number of means to pleasure one another.
Surely any other maiden would be at least a tad embarrassed by her brazen behavior?
But not her.
The mere thought of the man who was to become her husband was enough to make her ache for his touch.
Pressing open the glass door, Bianca stepped into the shadowed heat of the small conservatory. At once she was shrouded in the exotic scent of rare orchids. She instinctively wrinkled her nose.
She did not care for such a heavy, cloying scent.
Glancing about, she stepped farther down the paved path, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.
“Hello?” she called softly. “Is anyone here?”
“Yes,” a male voice answered from the back depths.
Puzzled by Edward’s odd behavior, Bianca moved between the banks of lush plants, halting as she reached a marble fountain.
“Are you hiding?” she demanded.
“I have been hiding.” A slender, elegantly attired form abruptly stepped into a shaft of moonlight. “Until now.”
Bianca stiffened in surprise. “Stephen?”
He offered a half bow. “At your service.”
“Whatever are you doing here?”
A practiced smile curved the lips that were just a trifle too thin.
“Awaiting you, of course. What else would I be doing?”
Realization struck with sudden force. Blast. She had been expecting a few glorious stolen moments with Edward. Now she would have to endure yet another strained confrontation with this gentleman.
She would rather listen to a dozen dreadful arias.
“You sent me the note.”
“Who else?” Slowly strolling forward, Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Do not tell me you were expecting your farmer?”
“Why did you wish to meet with me?”
His smile briefly faltered at her impatient tone, but with a skill that had led to more than one broken female heart, he was once more revealing his perfect white teeth.
“To begin with, I intend to confess that I have been a fool and a coward,” he murmured in golden tones. He reached out to grasp her hands in a tight grip.
“What?”
She found herself being tugged relentlessly closer. So close that the heavy odor of his cologne mixed unpleasantly with the thick perfume in the air.
It was a striking contrast to Edward’s clean, crisp scent.
With a rather dramatic motion, Stephen forced her hand to splay against his chest, his expression assuming one of deepest sorrow.
“My dearest, when your father refused my offer of marriage I was out of my wits with suffering. To even think of my life without you was unbearable.” He paused as if attempting to judge the affect of his words upon her. “And…there was, of course, the decided blow to my pride. Your father made it quite clear that I was beneath his contempt.”
Bianca could not halt her small wince. Her feelings for this gentleman might have died a swift death, but she could not deny he had been treated badly by her family.
“I am sorry, Stephen.”
“I am the one who is sorry,” he startled her by insisting. “I behaved as a spoiled child rather than a gentleman who loves you desperately. I should never have walked away. What do I care of your fortune? Or even your father’s approval? Nothing matters but our love. Possessing your heart is far more important than possessing a fortune.”
A silence descended as she regarded him with a growing wariness.
She had expected his anger. Even accepted that she deserved some small measure of punishment. But never had she supposed he would still harbor the notion that they would wed.
She hid a sharp shudder. It was unthinkable.
“Stephen—”
“We will somehow survive, that I promise you, my love.” He determinedly overrode her soft protest. “Perhaps it will not be as luxurious as you are accustomed to, but I shall do everything in my power to ensure you never lack for comfort.”
Her wariness deepened. Something was not right. Stephen was very much a gentleman of London. An expensive gentleman who would as soon slit his throat as to live in shabby gentility.
“Stephen, you are not thinking clearly,” she said in careful tones.
“No, at last I am thinking clearly,” he insisted, his eyes glittering with a hectic fire. “I know that you love me. I know you want to be my wife. You certainly have claimed it often enough. Or have you forgotten the impassioned letters you wrote to me? I still have them.”
She inwardly cringed at the recollection of those letters. At the time it had seemed something a young woman in love should do. Only now did she realize it was merely an attempt to prove to herself that her emotions were genuine.
How else could she justify using him as a mere means to escape her golden prison?
“I did care, Stephen,” she hedged, too embarrassed to admit the truth.
His eyes narrowed. “You still care.”
“The situation has changed.”
“Because you feel obligated to wed a fortune? Do not fret.” He lifted her stiff fingers to his lips. “We shall no doubt be as poor as church mice, but we shall be together. Nothing else matters.”
Her eyes widened. As poor as church mice?
All right. Now she knew something was wrong.
Clearly Stephen was either playing some cruel game or he was cast to the wind.
“Please, you must listen to me,” she commanded, wanting nothing so much as to be out of the conservatory.
The blue eyes seemed to harden before his arms abruptly lashed about her and hauled her against his slender form.
“After I have kissed you,” he muttered, pressing his lips to her unwilling mouth. “God, I have missed you so much.”
A surge of panic raced through her as she battled herself from his clinging hold and wiped her hand over her lips.
“No.”
Reaching out he grasped her arm before she could flee. “What is it, my love?”
“Whatever there was between us is over.” With a futile effort she attempted to tug her arm free of his harsh grip. “You must know it is.”
“Because of your dowry? I have told you that it does not matter.”
Her expression hardened with annoyance. “I am promised to another.”
“The Peasant Earl?”
She stiffened in shock. “How did you know?”
“Does it matter?” His lips curled into an ugly sneer. “My God, do you think that I could bear for you to sacrifice yourself to that awkward oaf just for my comfort? Never. You deserve a man who is worthy of you. A man who comes from your world, not from the stables.”
She instinctively halted her struggle to glare at the countenance that was not nearly so handsome as she had once thought it to be.
“Edward is a wonderful man.”
A sharp, humorless laugh echoed through the conservatory. The sound sent a chill down her spine. Suddenly she was aware of just how isolated they were from the other guests.
“No doubt you have tried to convince yourself of that. After all, he is disgustingly wealthy. But we both know he will never fit into society. He will be a never anything but an embarrassment to you and your family.”
“That is not true—”
“Of course it is.” He broke into her furious words. “Not that it matters. You will be my wife. You belong to me.”
Belong to him?
She barely resisted the urge to slap his smug face. Gads, how could she have ever thought this man to be worth a moment of her time?
Under that smooth charm he wa
s a loathsome toad.
“You are very confident in yourself,” she accused in frigid tones.
He shrugged. “I am confident in you. You have made it very obvious you still love me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The locket, my sweet.” His fingers loosened their grip on her arm to touch the silver necklace. “If you no longer loved me, why would you still wear my portrait above your heart?”
“That is ridiculous. I—” A sharp sound directly behind her had Bianca spinning about to watch as a large, familiar form retreated from the conservatory. Her heart halted at the realization that Edward must have overheard at least a portion of the conversation. And that judging from the stiffness of his back, he was not best pleased to discover her alone with another man. Damn and blast. “Edward. Edward, where are you going?”
He had to have heard her anxious call, but his steps never slowed, and even as she stepped forward to halt him, the sound of the glass door being slammed shut reverberated through the room.
Her stomach clenched in dread.
No. Oh…no.
Edward stormed from the townhouse without a glance toward the various guests who sought to gain his attention. In truth, he did not even notice their presence. Nor the presence of the handful of servants who were forced to scurry from his path or be plowed over.
There was nothing but the red haze of fury that filled his entire being.
God…the rumormongers were right.
He was the worst sort of gapseed.
A sap-skulled, naïve dolt who should never have been allowed to step foot in society.
The evening had started so well.
After his interview with the Duke of Lockharte, he had devoted the afternoon to his tailor. After all, a gentleman about to wed Lady Bianca would be in need of the most elegant of wardrobes. He would do nothing to shame her, even if it meant attiring himself as a bloody dandy.
Then there had been a quick meeting with his man of business to ensure the paperwork for his upcoming nuptials would be set into motion as swiftly as possible before rushing home to dress for the musicale.
It was only because he had been running late that he had seen Bianca hurrying toward the back of the house in the first place. He had been curious but not unduly alarmed as he had followed in her wake. He had even paused at a mirror to ensure his damnable cravat had not wilted and that his hair was not mussed.
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