A Match for Mother

by Mona Gedney, Kathryn Kirkwood, Regina Scott

  “Excellent!” the second gentleman, who sounded much younger, responded. “I should not like any to hear what I am about to divulge to you. I have agreed not to bandy it about, but it is such a good tale, I cannot keep it all to myself.”

  John frowned slightly. The voice of the older gentleman was unknown to him but the younger was vaguely familiar. He was about to stand up, to make his presence known, when the younger gentleman spoke again. “It concerns Lord Sommerset and I should not like to find myself on his dark side.”

  “Just so!” The older gentleman gave a wary chuckle. “I have heard that he is an excellent shot.”

  John grinned, settling deeply into his chair once more. There was much to be gained by keeping his presence unknown if these two gentlemen were about to discuss the latest on dit concerning him.

  When the gentlemen had gained seats, the younger one spoke again. “You must promise never to divulge what I am about to tell you.”

  “Done.” The older gentleman chuckled softly. “If this concerns Lord Sommerset, it is in my best interest to keep my tongue tightly reined. I should not care to serve as your second.”

  The younger gentleman laughed at this joke and then he cleared his throat. “I have told you of my secret engagement to Miss Fellows?”

  John frowned at the mention of Miss Fellows’s name. Had word somehow got out of her attempt to trap him into marriage in Aunt Marcella’s gardens?

  “You have told me and I approve. From what I have seen, Miss Fellows is a pleasing young miss and quite beautiful. Her family, however, is another matter. It is only a pity her father does not repair to his country estate and remain there.”

  “I could not agree with you more. It seems that Lord Fellows has spent the entire Season, thus far, at the gambling tables and his luck has been most unfortunate as he now finds himself facing utter ruin. Not even the moneylenders near Mecklenburgh Square will part with their coin in his behalf.”

  “I should hope not, for he would only gamble it away again.” The older gentleman sighed deeply. “A sad case, Lord Fellows. I have observed him at Hazard and an unluckier fellow does not exist!”

  “You have the right of it, uncle. Lord Fellows has only himself to blame for his troubles. But my dear Dorinda is the most generous of daughters, as well as the most loving. She came to me, some four weeks past, with the intention of crying off from our engagement. She was determined to set aside her own desires and marry a gentleman who possessed the means to save her father from bankruptcy.”

  “I see.” The older gentleman sounded as if he did not see at all. “But your engagement to Miss Fellows still stands, does it not?”

  “It does. I made it clear to her that I could not stand by idly while she sacrificed our future happiness.”

  The older gentleman gasped in alarm. “You did not go to the moneylenders yourself, Winslow!”

  “No, uncle. Before I could even consider putting myself to those lengths, Miss Fellows’s bosom bow, Miss Radcliffe, came up with a most unusual solution to our difficulty.” John raised his brows. It was no surprise that he had recognized the young man’s voice. Willow had spoken to him at the opera and briefly introduced him to their group. He was Freddy Winslow, heir to his grandmother’s fortune and a recently admitted member of Brooks’s.

  “Is this when Sommerset enters the picture?” The uncle was clearly intrigued.

  “Yes, indeed. Miss Radcliffe was eager to arrange a marriage for her mother. Together with her fiancé, Lord Ralston, they settled on Sommerset as a likely match.”

  “Ah ha!” The uncle sounded most amused. “I should have known that Sommerset would not declare himself willingly. Did they set a trap for him, then?”

  “A very clever trap. Miss Radcliffe and Ralston spread it about that my dear Dorinda was desperate to marry a wealthy gentleman to save her father from bankruptcy.”

  “Yes?” The uncle sounded puzzled. “But that was true, was it not?”

  “It was. And that is one of the reasons why their plan was so clever. On the night of Lady Bollinger’s ball, my dear Dorinda followed Lord Sommerset into the gardens and pretended to attempt to trap him into marriage.”

  “Pretended?” The uncle sounded even more confused.

  “Yes. It was a sham, of course, all arranged by Miss Radcliffe and Ralston. They knew that Lord Sommerset would hear that Dorinda was desperately seeking a wealthy match, and thus he would not think to suspect Lady Radcliffe’s motives when she arrived in time to save him.”

  “Save him? From your Miss Fellows?”

  “Indeed.” Winslow chuckled. “Lady Radcliffe arrived on the scene in the nick of time. She informed Dorinda that her hopes for a declaration from the earl were fruitless, as she was already engaged to him!”

  “By she do you mean Lady Radcliffe?”

  “Yes, indeed. Of course Lord Sommerset assumed that Lady Radcliffe’s claim to be his fiancée was made solely to save him from Dorinda’s clutches.”

  There was a long silence from the uncle and then he sighed. “It is quite complicated but I believe I have got the gist of it. But the earl and Lady Radcliffe are still engaged, are they not?”

  “Most definitely. I am not privy to the full particulars, but I assume that Lady Radcliffe has promised to cry off once the Season is concluded. Of course she will not. And the earl will be forced to marry her to avoid further disgrace.”

  The uncle laughed long and hard. “It is simply masterful! Who is the author of this convoluted scheme?”

  “Miss Radcliffe and Lord Ralston, with a good bit of help from my dear Miss Fellows. It could not have been accomplished without her aid. It is the reason that Miss Radcliffe has agreed to make dear Dorinda a loan of the funds that she will inherit on her wedding day.”

  “This sum will enable her to redeem her father’s vowels?”

  “Precisely.” Winslow sounded most pleased. “And I shall repay dear Dorinda’s debt when I claim my inheritance next year.”

  The uncle laughed and clapped his hands together. “This is a delightful tale, Winslow, but you must take caution not to divulge it to anyone else. It would go badly for your fiancée if her part in this scheme were made public.”

  “I shall be as silent as the grave.” Winslow’s voice was solemn. “I should not have told you, uncle, if I were not certain that you would also remain mum.”

  “That I will, boy. That I will. And now let us retire to White’s, where I am to meet several friends whose acquaintance I should like you to make.”

  John remained in his chair until the sounds of their footsteps had receded, his mind spinning in shocked circles. Had he fallen into an elaborate trap set by Willow, Ralston, and Claire, herself?

  Winslow’s story had the undeniable ring of truth. All the facts that he had recounted to his curious uncle had been quite accurate. As Miss Fellows’s secret fiancé, Winslow had been in a position to be privy to the scheme, and John found that he could not dismiss the charges that he had so gleefully uttered against the family he had come to think of as his own.

  With great effort, John composed himself and gave a glance to the clock. Its hands had moved too far for his further contemplation. If he did not make haste, he should be late to meet Claire, and meet her he surely would. Lady Claire Radcliffe, the scheming woman that he had come so dangerously close to making his wife, was about to receive the full measure of his legendary wrath!

  SEVEN

  Claire paced the floor in the drawing room, glancing at the clock every few moments. It was not like John to be late. On every other occasion, he had been a pattern card of promptness, arriving exactly when he had said he should. As the clock ticked on and the minutes passed in slow progression, Claire prayed that nothing dreadful had occurred to keep him from her side.

  Willow and Philip had taken their leave a full hour ago, to attend a small gathering at the home of a friend. As there was no conversation to divert her, Claire found herself imagining the dire events that could accou
nt for John’s unaccustomed delay. Foremost in her mind was the possibility of a carriage accident. Claire was well aware that this specter was due, in no small measure, to the disastrous event that had taken her parents’ lives. She attempted to tell herself that such a disaster could not strike her a second time in one lifetime, but still she could not help but picture a broken carriage, smashed beyond all repair, and her beloved John lying motionless in the streets.

  With great resolution, Claire banished these images and concentrated on some circumstance that might have caused John to linger at his club. Perhaps he had met an old friend and tarried with him, too engaged in their conversation to notice the lateness of the hour. There was also the possibility that he had stopped to assist an acquaintance, not realizing that the offer of his aid should cause him to be late. It was foolish of her to give way to her anxiety when there were so many small and insignificant events that could have caused his delay.

  There was a knock on the open door and Claire turned eagerly, a welcoming smile on her face. Then her smile faded quickly as she saw that it was only Jennings with the tea tray.

  “Your tea, madame.” Jennings crossed the floor to place the tray on a table.

  “Thank you, Jennings.” Claire managed to hide her disappointment. In her concern over John’s tardiness, she had completely forgotten that she had rung for the tea tray. “Has there been any word from Lord Sommerset?”

  Jennings shook his head and Claire noticed that he also looked a bit anxious. “No, madame. If any such message is delivered, I shall make haste to carry it to you immediately.”

  Once Jennings had taken his leave, Claire poured her tea and sipped it anxiously, listening intently for the sounds of John’s arrival. Several more minutes passed in agonizing silence and then she heard the rumble of carriage wheels rounding the corner. The carriage stopped outside her door and Claire gave a grateful sigh of relief. John had arrived, at last.

  John frowned as he stepped down from his carriage and turned to his coachman. “There is no need to walk the horses. I shall not be long.”

  The coachman nodded and John strode up the walkway, the frown still present upon his face. During his short journey to Half Moon Street, he had considered the words that he should speak when he accused Claire of the double deception that she had perpetuated. It was only natural that she should attempt to explain, but he would remain deaf to her tearful apologies and brook no excuses from her lips.

  As John stood at the door, waiting to be admitted, he vowed to remain calm, his demeanor as icy and forbidding as the peaks of the Pyrenees in his mother’s homeland. He would not allow his emotions to become involved for he had no doubt that Claire should turn into a watering pot the instant that he accused her. She was not above using every means at her disposal to attempt to convince him that she was innocent of all wrongdoing.

  When Jennings opened the door, he wore a welcoming smile, but John did not return it. Instead, he demanded an immediate audience with Claire and made haste to follow the butler down the hall.

  As he walked through the familiar corridor, John reviewed the strategy that he had formulated. He would state quite clearly that he had tumbled to Claire’s devious scheme and inform her that it could not succeed. Once she had digested that fact, he would demand that she continue the illusion of their engagement until the conclusion of the current Season. If she dared to object, he would threaten to expose the full particulars of her trickery, including her conspiracy with her daughter and Ralston.

  Claire attempted to compose herself as she heard the sound of footsteps approaching in the hall. John was here and she had been as silly as a pea goose to worry about him. No doubt he had been detained through no fault of his own and should soon explain it to her. She rose from her chair, a welcoming smile on her face, as he strode through the doorway.

  “John!” Claire’s smile vanished as she noticed the cold expression in his eyes. Something was horribly wrong. “Whatever has happened?”

  John waited until Jennings had left and then he faced her squarely. “Be seated, Lady Radcliffe. I must speak to you.”

  Claire stared at him in utter confusion. A stiff martinet had supplanted the friendly gentleman whom she loved so dearly. She opened her mouth, intending to ask for an explanation, but his scowling countenance caused her to sink back down in her chair, her query unuttered.

  “You are clever, madame, and I find I must compliment you on the scheme that you hatched with your daughter and Ralston. It is far better than any that have been attempted in the past.”

  “But, John ... I do not know what...”

  “Enough, madame!” He flicked aside her words with a curt gesture and Claire fell silent in the wake of his wrath. His eyes glittered with contempt and she began to tremble violently. “I admit that you almost succeeded. Only tonight, I found myself contemplating the means to make our engagement real. I began to love you, madame. I freely confess it.”

  Claire felt her face drain of color. He had said that he loved her, but the contempt was still present in his eyes.

  “Perhaps it was the eagerness with which you shared my kisses or the sweet, giving way that you came into my arms.” His expression softened slightly, but then he seemed to shake off the memory for his angry expression took hold once again. “That was before I discovered the depths of your deception.”

  “Deception?” Claire could hear her voice trembling and tears began to gather in her eyes. “What deception? I have never deceived you, John!”

  His voice was hard as he answered her. “I assumed that you would cry. It is a feminine trick that succeeds quite well with most gentlemen. But it will not succeed with me, madame, and it will be a waste of your time and energy to attempt it.”

  Claire sat mutely, blinking back the tears that threatened to flood down her cheeks. She did not understand in what way John believed that she had deceived him. Even worse, he seemed convinced that Willow and Philip were involved in some sort of conspiracy with her.

  “You underestimate me, Lady Radcliffe.” As Claire watched, the scowl on his face grew deeper. “Did you truly believe that I would agree to make you my countess without crying foul?”

  Claire’s eyes widened. He believed she was attempting to trap him into marriage! “I did not try to trap you into marriage, sir. You know full well that our engagement is a ruse. We both agreed that I should cry off at the conclusion of the current Season.”

  “But will you cry off? I think not!” He glared at her and then he smiled, a twisting of his lips a parody of that pleasant expression.

  “But I shall cry off!” Claire’s voice was shaking. “I shall cry off immediately if that is what you desire.”

  He laughed, a bitter sound that held no mirth. “You are most convincing, Lady Radcliffe, especially with that charming quaver in your voice. I have half a notion to put you to the test, but that will not serve my purposes. You will continue in our deception until I give my leave for you to do otherwise. If you fail to do precisely as I say, I shall expose all members of your conspiracy and hold them up to public ridicule.”

  “All members?” Claire repeated his words dumbly. Who did he believe was involved?

  “Yes, indeed. I shall expose your daughter, Ralston, Miss Fellows, Winslow, and you, my dear. I shall take particular pleasure in exposing your trickery to the ton. And you needn’t think that my part in the resulting scandal shall dissuade me. I find I am quite grown quite accustomed to the cuts of polite society.”

  “But ... but surely you do not think that I ... Why, my daughter would never ... I assure you, sir, that...”

  “Silence!”

  Claire’s mouth snapped shut as he glared at her. It did not matter what she said for he would not believe her. If she claimed that the sky was blue, he would proclaim that it was not.

  “Do you agree to continue our ruse then, madame?” Claire felt her anger begin to rise as he stood there glaring, his hands upon his hips. How dare he demand that she pretend to
be his fiancée when he had accused her of something she had not done?

  “Madame? I am waiting for your answer.”

  He tapped his foot impatiently against the floor, and Claire’s anger reached an explosive peak. “I will not pretend to be your fiancée, sir! As of this moment, our ruse is concluded. Remove yourself from my presence and do not presume to return!”

  “Ah, the lady has teeth.” He gave a slight chuckle that set Claire’s teeth on edge. “But before you bite, I would have you consider the effect my public accusation should have on your daughter and Ralston. Perhaps you do not care if you are shunned by polite society, but I daresay they do.”

  Claire gasped in shock and clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling. “You would ruin my daughter?”

  “I should ruin any who dared to trifle with me, madame.” Claire felt the fear wash over her in escalating waves. Philip was obliged to remain in his father’s good graces until the title passed to him. Lord Northrup would not allow his successor to be the subject of such scandal and Willow’s fiancé should quickly be disinherited. Even if there were some way to prove that the gossip about them was not true, both Willow and Philip should suffer the slights of all who believed Lord Sommerset’s accusations. They should have to retire to the country estate that Philip had inherited from his grandfather and live there in virtual isolation.

  “Have you reconsidered your decision, madame?”

  The amusement on his face caused Claire to clench her fists for fear she should pick up the jade elephant that sat on the table and hurl it at his head. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself and nodded stiffly. “It shall be as you wish, Lord Sommerset.”

  “A wise decision.” He dipped his head. “And I trust that you shall not tax my patience further by devising a new scheme to marry me?”

  Claire stared at him in utter shock and she uttered the first words that entered her mind. “Marry you, sir? I shall marry you when pigs fly!”

  “Well said, madame.” He gave a stiff bow and marched to the door, pulling it open and turning to fire one final sally in her direction. “And I shall marry you when ladies wear breeches to a formal ball!”