Two Beaux and a Promise Collection

by Allison Lane

  “What are you talking about? Mr. Jessup loves me.”

  “Jessup loves only himself. Haven’t you noticed that he is most attentive when Giles is watching?” It wasn’t strictly true, but she needed to penetrate Diana’s arrogance. “His goal is to harm the man you vowed to marry, and you are helping him.”

  Diana was off the bed in a trice, palm extended to slap. “You wrong him. He loves me more than Giles ever will.”

  Edith caught her wrists. “No, Diana. Calculation fills his eyes. Determination stiffens his jaw. You are too young to recognize it and too determined to see only what you want to see. But in truth, he is using you to further his own goals.” That much was real.

  “Why should I accept your so-called truth?”

  “Because I am older than you, with more experience of the world.” She shook her head to cut off another protest. “But if you don’t believe me, then seek the truth for yourself. There are foolproof ways to discern it.”

  “Then use them and prove yourself wrong.”

  Edith nearly smiled, for the words played into her hands. “Only you can use such methods, Diana. The best way to divine truth is through magic, but magic only reveals truth about its user. It cannot uncover secrets about others.”

  “Magic?” Surprise threaded her voice.

  “Exactly. I am not skilled in its use, but I overheard Lord Charles discussing Granny Gibbs this evening – he is well acquainted with the woman. She concocts amulets that reveal truth. Perhaps he can obtain one for you. But beware. Truth can be uncomfortable.”

  Diana surprised her by nodding. “I will think on it.”

  — 4 —

  When Edith arrived at breakfast the next morning, Diana and Jessup occupied opposite ends of the table. It made her wonder if Charles had reinforced Hawthorne’s warning to Jessup.

  That hope died five minutes later when she intercepted an exchange of sly glances that left Diana nearly bursting with suppressed excitement. They were up to something.

  Her fears increased when Peter slid into the seat on Jessup’s right and murmured something into his ear. Jessup nodded briskly, then murmured a reply that brought a smile to Peter’s lips.

  Edith hid a frown. Jessup had ignored Peter since arriving at Russell House, so why did they suddenly act like the best of friends?

  Peter rose to address the company. “The ice is finally thick enough to be safe. Anyone wishing to skate should meet in the hall at ten. We’ll walk to the lake together.”

  Diana squealed in delight. Jessup started to smile, but a word from Peter pulled his face into a scowl.

  Edith chewed thoughtfully. Was Peter warning Jessup away from his sister – even the worse cads could be protective of family – or was he pressing Jessup to do something distasteful? She suspected the latter. Peter cared only for himself.

  “More trouble?” murmured Charles, sliding into the vacant seat on her left.

  She nearly jumped out of her skin, and not just from surprise. Heat sizzled along her nerves until she had to inhale twice to keep her voice steady. “Puzzles rather than problems, my lord. Jessup’s odd behavior extends beyond Miss Russell and Mr. Merrimont.”

  “To whom?”

  “Mr. Russell.” She nodded toward the pair.

  “Did they arrive together?”

  “No. Russell chose to sit there. Jessup doesn’t like him, yet he seems to be listening, almost as if Russell had some hold over him.”

  “That sounds ominous.” His gaze remained on Peter.

  “Very. Jessup is full of surprises today. Did you speak to him last night?”

  “There was no need. Hawthorne had already done so.”

  “With minimal effect. He was waltzing with Miss Russell when I returned, and holding her far too close. They’ve been exchanging secret glances this morning.”

  “I’ll see that he—”

  “No.” She grasped his wrist when he began to rise, keeping him in his seat. Electricity sparked. Her lungs tightened until she had to fight to draw her next breath. “Something powerful is driving him – why else would he ignore Hawthorne’s warning? Nobody defies the Beaux. I doubt he cares a fig for Miss Russell, and I don’t like that Mr. Russell can seemingly influence him.”

  “Nor do I.” He paused to chew bacon. “Have you mentioned your fears to Miss Russell?”

  “No. I only just noted the connection. And she swears that Jessup loves her.” She finished her coffee. “But she may have doubts she won’t admit aloud. My mention of magic last night intrigued her. On the other hand, the news that we can skate this morning produced excessive excitement. Jessup may have sent her a note. I hope she’s not planning something drastic – like eloping. She has become almost frantic for attention, and Jessup is supplying it. His ministrations could easily scramble her wits. Will you be skating?”

  “I’m supposed to meet with Schechler.”

  “I hear he is stiff-necked and refuses any compromise.”

  “Too true.” He sighed.

  “Then bring him along. The other guests are already caught up in the Christmas spirit, though the festivities won’t begin until tomorrow. Perhaps their excitement will work some magic on him. It can’t hurt. And be sure that Merrimont joins us.”

  “Is that wise? Watching Miss Russell flirt with Jessup is bound to irritate him.”

  “Good. They need to confront this problem, not ignore it.”

  “Do you want them to call off the wedding?” he asked softly.

  “Personally, no. The scandal would make it difficult to find a new position. But neither do I want them to live fifty years in misery.” She frowned as Jessup and Peter left together, heads bent in earnest conversation.

  “Yes, that does seem odd,” he agreed. “And eliminates my own suspicions.”

  “Which were?” She finished her coffee.

  “That Jessup is obeying Merrimont’s orders. If Miss Russell creates a large enough scandal, Merrimont could jilt her with impunity.”

  “Is that what happened to you?” The question was out before she could stop it.

  “No.” He scowled her into silence. “Russell’s involvement cannot be good. I will postpone my morning meeting and join you at the lake.”

  She nodded, then followed the pair from the room, hoping to learn something useful.

  * * * *

  Charles watched her leave, grateful that she was gone. He was angrier with her today than he’d been after she’d cracked his skull. He knew it was unfair, but he couldn’t help it. She was walking proof that his judgment was hopelessly impaired.

  He’d assumed that Miss Knolton was incompetent, ignorant, and lacking common sense.

  He’d been wrong.

  Yet more than his faulty assumptions irritated him. Everything about her triggered his temper. He’d wanted to destroy last night’s monstrous gown and replace it with a fashionable creation that would show off her intriguing bosom. He’d wanted to slide his hands into her lustrous hair, loosening pins until that severe knot softened to dark waves framing her heart-shaped face. Silky waves that would draw attention to her silver eyes. Those eyes had haunted him since the day she’d fallen into his lap, smearing a plate of cream cakes all over his coat. They were mesmerizing, drawing him into depths he’d not expected. And her mouth! Sinfully red lips begged to be explored… Once he dressed her properly, he would drape rubies around her neck, bringing roses to her creamy cheeks and tempting—

  He broke off the thought, appalled. Damn Jacob for planting ideas in his head! It was bad enough that she stirred lust. He didn’t need—

  “Good morning, my lord.” The sultry voice shattered his thoughts.

  “Miss Russell.” He rose to execute the expected bow, then spotted the gleam in her eyes and sighed. Miss Knolton was right to fear Miss Russell’s intentions. The girl was exploring her options and would jilt Merrimont in a trice if a better offer appeared. At least the breakfast room contained a dozen people.

  His cold tone dimmed h
er gaze, but she quickly rallied, batting her lashes outrageously. “We were delighted that you could accept our invitation, my lord.”

  “My presence is purely a business matter, Miss Russell. If I didn’t have to speak with Baron Schechler, I would be with my family.”

  “Oh.” She’d obviously expected a compliment.

  Laughter rippled from the corner where Riley was entertaining the crowd with the latest on-dits. A Home Office investigator, Riley was another of Merrimont’s friends.

  Miss Russell tugged on Charles’s arm. “I need to speak with you, my lord. Privately.”

  “So speak. No one is paying attention. It is unseemly to slip away from the others.”

  She flashed a smile she must have practiced before a mirror. “But a gentleman of your high breeding can hardly care what others think, my lord.”

  “On the contrary, Miss Russell. A diplomat must always consider appearances. Merrimont certainly does.”

  “Hardly. Ignoring me cannot do his credit any good.”

  Charles laughed. “You really are a peagoose, aren’t you?” He dismissed her indignation. “Don’t you know anything about society? Living in your pocket would reduce his credit – and yours, too, for doing so implies that he cannot trust you to behave.”

  “How dare—”

  “Surely your companion has explained the ways of the world. I pitied Merrimont last night. How he maintained his dignity is a mystery, for your antics would horrify the most broad-minded gentleman. I cannot imagine having a wife who makes such a vulgar cake of herself. If you don’t learn proper manners, he will never advance at the Foreign Office. Nor will he find supporters if he chooses to stand for Commons.”

  Her mouth hung open in her first genuine show of emotion. “If that is how he feels, then he should let me find someone who appreciates me,” she snapped.

  Charles suppressed a sigh at the arrogance that could twist criticism so far around. “I don’t know how he feels, Miss Russell. All I know is that your behavior affects both of you – not that you seem to care. But I don’t want to see Merrimont’s life ruined by an arrogant little witch. He’s a good man.”

  “How dare you, sir!”

  “I dare because accepting his offer made you part of him, so your misbehavior harms him – I know what Hawthorne found on the terrace last evening. I dare because I despise selfish girls who don’t care how their actions affect others. You are calling censure down on your family. You are branding Jessup a cad. Staying on this course will force Sir Waldo to turn Miss Knolton off without a reference, which will prevent her from finding a new position. All that damage just so one spoiled miss can soothe her sensibilities and flex her claws. I won’t allow it.”

  She stepped back, all thought of flirtation gone. “You won’t allow it?” Her voice could have frozen a raging river.

  “Exactly. Rather than let you destroy innocents, I will have your father lock you in your room until the wedding.”

  “He would never do such a thing! Papa loves me.”

  “Of course he loves you, but that won’t stop him from dealing with this tantrum. What do you hope to accomplish?”

  “This is Giles’s last chance to prove he loves me. If he doesn’t, I won’t wed him.”

  “Childish.” But when tears glinted on her lashes, he relented. “This is not the way to prove anything, Miss Russell. No man worth his salt will give in to blackmail.”

  “Blackmail!”

  “What else can one call your threats?”

  “I’m not threatening anyone. Since most men adore me, why should I tie myself to someone who doesn’t?”

  “The so-called adoration of cubs unready for marriage is but a game, Miss Russell. They pretend admiration and profess undying devotion, but anyone of intelligence knows it’s all pretense. A pleasant way to pass the time. No more – as is obvious from the frequency with which they change idols. Those of an age to wed look beyond the color of your hair or the tilt of your chin. Gentlemen need a lady, a hostess, an heir.”

  “But I need someone who cares.”

  “Don’t confuse caring with poetry. Are you a good person?”

  “Of course.” She glared.

  “Are you beautiful?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Then why do you need to be told twenty times an hour that it is true? Are you afraid it is false?” He held up a hand to prevent an explosion of temper. “Think about it, Miss Russell. If you don’t believe it, then being told so will change nothing. If you do believe it, then it matters not what others might think. Compliments are nice – and they can make you feel better when things are going badly, as they always do from time to time. But they can’t change truth, so demanding them with every breath makes you seem childish. And any compliment that you coerce is worthless.”

  “You are hateful.” She twisted her mouth into a pout.

  “I don’t believe it, so your opinion doesn’t matter.” He drew a breath. “But if you are seriously questioning your betrothal, perhaps you should consult Granny Gibbs. She is quite skilled at helping people choose the right course.”

  “So I’ve heard. Does she really make amulets that reveal truth?”

  “Yes.” He paused, but though her eyes begged, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Perhaps she found the request too embarrassing. Or maybe his harsh words made it impossible to beg a favor. He finally took pity on her. “If you want one, I can call on her for you. But be wary of magic,” he cautioned softly. “It can reveal things you don’t wish to know.”

  “I’ll chance it.” She dimpled prettily, satisfied to have achieved her main goal. “Thank you, my lord.”

  * * * *

  The skating party convened on a shallow cove half a mile from the house. Footmen carried benches and baskets of skates to the shore, then built a fire to warm frozen fingers and let an undercook prepare chocolate. Children shouted, weaving among their elders in games of tag and crack the whip. Laughter followed in their wake, as did gasps of feigned terror as young ladies sought steadying arms from favorite gentlemen.

  By half past eleven, Edith had moved beyond the cove itself, gliding in random zigzags that let her keep one eye on Diana and the other on the rest of the company. Too many dramas were disturbing the carefree pleasure of the crowd.

  Peter was clearly stirring up trouble. He wouldn’t attack Edith with others nearby, but he’d spoken with Jessup, leaving the man white-faced. Then he’d paused by Schechler, who had speared Charles and Giles with glares the moment Peter skated away. A quarter hour later, he’d cornered Giles.

  Perhaps he was seeking revenge for Edith’s escape yesterday. Disrupting Diana’s marriage would hurt Edith, and turning the baron against Charles would repay him for interfering. But that didn’t explain why he could influence Jessup.

  A short time later Schechler had surprised her by inviting her to skate. As a chaperon, she should have refused, but she’d taken his arm, hoping to discover what Peter was saying. Diana was skating with Tomling, a picture of propriety this morning.

  “The Russells you know well, nein?” Schechler asked once they were moving.

  “I’ve been with them for eighteen months.”

  He nodded, then maneuvered around several slow-moving couples before continuing. “I know it is not done in your country to speak of certain matters, fraulein, but I have heard a disturbing tale. If true, it could affect my business.”

  “Who told you this tale?”

  He seemed surprised by her question. “Herr Russell. The son.”

  “I see.” She spared a moment to thank Fate that Schechler was less credulous than Peter thought. Schechler might be an incorrigible, stiff-necked ass, as Giles had once described him when he’d thought himself alone, but at least he checked claims before accepting them. “When I hear gossip – and what can one call tales about others if not gossip? – I first consider the source, asking myself if that source has reason to lie. Who was this tale about?”

  “Lord Charles
Beaumont. Herr Russell brought it to me because we engage now in delicate negotiations. The charges are quite grave.”

  She smiled. “I’m sure they are, but I am equally sure they are false. As you say, I know the Russells quite well. I know that Mr. Peter is a dishonorable cad and that he hates Lord Charles. I also know that Lord Charles is an honorable gentleman with a gift for finding equitable solutions to any problem.”

  “But his reputation!”

  “You speak of the Three Beaux, I presume?”

  He nodded.

  “The Beaux make exciting drawing room chatter, but they have never drawn true censure. And since society scrutinizes their every move, we would all know instantly if they behaved badly.”

  “I do not understand your country.”

  “I doubt that it is much different from your own,” she dared. “People abhor dishonor, cruelty, and vulgarity. But they love scandal, as long as it does not touch them personally, and discussing rogues makes them feel dashing. One reason the Beaux are so beloved is that they are larger-than-life men who often flirt with scandal yet never cross that final line. The gossips can exaggerate their exploits, fan themselves furiously over their reputed prowess, and recall every hint of impropriety, but everyone knows the Beaux never abandon honor, so it is a harmless pastime. If you want my advice, share Mr. Russell’s claims with Lord Charles and ask for the truth. He will give it. Then put it behind you and finish your business so you can enjoy the remainder of your holiday.”

  Giving him no chance to argue, she’d turned the conversation to the differences between English Christmas customs and those he knew, particularly those that dealt with peace, good will, and the burial of old quarrels.

  Diana had still been with Tomling when Edith left the baron, but Edith had intercepted another glance between the girl and Jessup. So when Jessup headed for the thicket covering a spit that protruded into the lake just beyond the cove, Edith had positioned herself where she could keep an eye on him. She didn’t think Jessup had noticed her. Nor had Diana, who had begun picking a fight with Tomling.