Hopefully, that confession would not deprive him of the five minutes the duke had allotted him. When Manchester made no comment, Redgrave continued. “I have heard you are considering, or perhaps have already decided, to throw in with Rumbold on his African diamond mine.”
Manchester sat still as stone, his eyes narrowing, and cold as an ice at Gunter’s. “I have no use for ton gossip, and since my financial decisions are none of your concern, I will be happy to escort you out the door.”
“No. Wait.” Redgrave moved to the edge of his chair and took the papers the runner had given him from his jacket pocket. “I have something to show you.”
“It had better be worth my time. You are down to three minutes.”
He spread the papers on the desk and stood. With his hands behind his back and his head down, he paced the room. “There is no love lost between my father-in-law and myself. Consequently, when he came up with this proposal he did not approach me. However, after several of my friends mentioned they were getting into the venture, I hired a Bow Street Runner.”
Instead of studying the papers he’d put on the desk, Manchester sat slumped in his chair, his hand propping up his chin. He made a point of pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time.
“In any event, if you look over the papers I just presented to you, it becomes quite clear that the African diamond mine he intends to purchase with the money from ‘investors’ doesn’t exist.” He stopped and rested his fisted hands on the desk, peering directly into Manchester’s eyes. “He intends to cheat all the investors of their money. There is no mine for sale in that area, and the mine that is there has already been diligently worked, and the owners have no intention of selling.”
The ticking of the longcase clock in the corner was the only sound as Manchester studied him as if he were a bug under glass. “Why? Why did you do it?”
The words, spoken quietly, caught his attention as if it had been shouted from the roof. Redgrave did not pretend to misunderstand Manchester’s question. “I am not at liberty to say.”
All sense of ease left the duke’s body and he sat up straight, his jaw tight, his eyes flashing with anger. “You leave London with Lady Priscilla two weeks before your wedding with my sister, with no explanation, no note, no anything, and you have the audacity to say you are not at liberty to discuss that?”
“Suffice it to say, the circumstances involved in that elopement were beyond my control.”
Manchester snorted and leaned back once more. His position might have been one of relaxation, but Redgrave was not fooled. He felt as though he faced a lion who was about to attack and make him his breakfast.
“Were you kidnapped?”
“No.”
“Knocked unconscious?”
“No.”
This was getting him nowhere. Apparently Manchester had no intention of listening to his proof of the perfidy Rumbold was about to commit until the scandal he had caused Lady Abigail was put to rest.
“Lady Priscilla was with child.”
Manchester made to get up from his chair, and it was obvious from the look on his face that he had chosen to ignore the duchess’s plea to not beat him to a pulp.
“It was not mine,” he growled between gritted teeth. “I had never touched her.”
The duke’s lip curled. “So you decided to play the gentleman and save her from scandal and toss my sister into scandal instead.”
Redgrave raked his fingers through his hair. “There were circumstances.”
The duke pushed his chair back and strode across the room to a sideboard where he poured two glasses of brandy. He took a sip of one and handed the other to Redgrave, who took a large gulp.
Manchester waved to the grouping of chairs near the fireplace. “Perhaps it would be better if you started at the beginning.”
There was a certain amount of relief in retelling the tale to his host. Not just because he might have a smidgen of hope to redeem himself in the man’s eyes, but also to finally have a possible opportunity with Mary.
The entire time he spoke, Manchester’s stare never left him. If the duke had any thoughts about the account, he held them close. No expression passed his face; his body appeared to be relaxed, but the tapping of his finger on the edge of the chair denied his tranquility.
“Why did you not come to me with Rumbold’s threats?”
“He gave me no chance. Either he knew his daughter was lying or feared once I left his presence I would do just that. Although, he did threaten to spread the word that I had ruined his daughter and failed to come up to the mark.”
Manchester shook his head and took a sip of his brandy. “He would have sacrificed his daughter’s reputation?”
Redgrave shrugged. “He said she had already done that, and this was how he intended to save it.”
“Why should I believe this?”
“Because even though I live under the threat of complete ruination if I speak of his scam to anyone, I could not let you get involved with him. I owe you, and your family, that much.”
If Manchester believed Redgrave’s coming here and exposing his father-in-law’s plans would somehow redeem him, he gave no sign. As he’d done since the interview had started. A man with whom not to play poker. Redgrave would do well to remember that.
“What the devil does he hold over you now?”
“Nothing but false words. But, as always, the damage would be devastating and done within hours.”
Finally a movement from his host, as his eyebrows raised. “And that would be?”
“He intends to put forth that his daughter was miserable in her marriage because I preferred the attentions of young boys.”
Even saying the words out loud made him feel dirty. To be accused of favoring men was bad enough, but young boys made the accusations so much worse.
Manchester let out a low whistle. “Rumbold is an ass and a blackguard.”
Since Redgrave agreed, and Manchester’s words needed no retort, he merely took another sip of brandy.
“It would appear you took quite a risk coming here.” He stood and signaled Redgrave to finish his drink.
He gulped the remainder and handed the glass to Manchester. “I could do no less.”
Manchester returned to the sidebar and poured another brandy for them both. “Just so we’re clear on this, Redgrave, this does not completely redeem you in my eyes, although I must admit circumstances at the time were certainly different than I had believed.”
He let out a breath at those words. Of course he hadn’t expected forgiveness, but at least Manchester now knew the truth. How that would affect his budding relationship with Mary was as yet unknown. But this was probably not the time to ask permission to court Manchester’s youngest sister. Right now they had a problem to solve.
Once Manchester settled in the chair across from him, he said, “We must come up with a plan. We not only have to stop Rumbold, but silence him as well.” He tapped the outside of his glass. “Don’t look so uncomfortable, Redgrave, I wasn’t suggesting murder. Although, with the machinations he used to destroy so many lives, I cannot think of anyone who deserves it more.” He took a swallow of the amber liquid, and for the first time since Redgrave entered the room, the Duke of Manchester smiled.
Chapter Seventeen
Mary stood at her bedroom window and watched Redgrave hurry down the steps toward his carriage. He grabbed his hat as the wind attempted to take it from his head. He’d been cosseted with her brother for well over two hours. What had they been talking about?
She assumed it was not her and their behavior in the carriage, or she would have been summoned to face Drake’s wrath. Her heart sped up as Redgrave reached for the top of the carriage door—no need for steps, or a footman’s assistance—and leaped into the vehicle. Before he closed the door, he glanced up and met her eyes.
Mary sucked in a breath to be caught staring out the window at him. His raised eyebrow told her he’d been amused by her interest. With a
slight grin, he tapped the brim of his hat and closed the door.
Unable to stand it any longer, she left her room and knocked on the library door.
“Yes.”
Drake stood with his back to her, staring out the window. He turned, and the look on his face told her he’d expected her visit. “Good afternoon. How was your committee meeting?” He waved to the chair in front of the fireplace. As she sat, he took the one across from her.
“The meeting was uneventful.”
“You accepted a ride home from Redgrave.”
Goodness, perhaps he had told her brother about their encounter. She quickly disabused herself of that notion. Drake was entirely too calm, and Redgrave hadn’t any marks on him when he’d left. “Yes. I sent the carriage back since Mother had calls to make.”
His eyebrows rose. “We have more than one carriage. And did you not leave instructions for the driver to return?”
“The other carriage is under repairs. I did instruct the driver to return, but our meeting ended much earlier than I had expected, so I was left with no ride.”
Although his demeanor was not one she would expect if Redgrave had talked to Drake about their ride, there was still something there that gave her pause. As if he was waiting for her to reveal something he knew already.
Trying very hard not to squirm in her seat, she said, “Redgrave offered.”
“Ah. And no one else did?”
“They left rather quickly.”
His face flushed, and his jaw tightened. “And you did not? Who are these ladies who felt it was appropriate to leave an unmarried girl without a chaperone?”
“They weren’t aware that I had no carriage with me. I am sure they just assumed I would be fine.”
“I would like a list of the names of the ladies present.”
Mary hopped up. Brother or no brother, duke or no duke, she’d had enough. “Despite your unsupported notion that I am a mere child who needs constant supervision, I am an adult woman, capable of taking care of myself.”
Just look at how well I conducted myself in Redgrave’s carriage.
“Sit down, Mary, and calm yourself.” The softness of his request—nay demand—was more forceful than a shout.
She swallowed her anger and raised her chin as she sat.
“I am responsible for your reputation. Redgrave ruined one of my sister’s names, for which she and the rest of you suffered. I will not have it happen again.”
“I will not be ruined.” Even as she uttered the words, heat rose from her middle to her face, no doubt giving Drake something to consider. Had they been caught during their carriage ride, ruined would be a mild term. Her brother would have Redgrave applying for a special license.
Would that be so bad?
“Despite your upbringing, you obviously have no idea, or choose to ignore, how close to ruination you came by riding in a carriage with Redgrave sans chaperone. From now on, you are not to leave the house without your maid in attendance.”
Her jaw dropped in outrage. “I have never taken Alice with me to my committee meetings.”
“You will in the future. And also in walks to the park, visits to Bond Street, afternoon teas, morning calls. Wherever you go, Alice is to be with you. This should be no surprise, Mary. You were raised by those standards. I am afraid Mother has been lax with you recently.”
“Perhaps because I am close to being considered ‘on the shelf’ and no longer need the constant supervision as a young miss?”
Her brother’s demeanor softened. “Nay. You are not on the shelf and soon you will meet the man who will convince you of such.”
She raised her chin. “And if that has already happened?”
His eyes snapped. “I doubt such a thing, as no one has spoken to me on your behalf.” He leaned forward, his glaring look pinning her to the chair. “And, until someone does, I expect you to behave as you were raised.”
Wishing to move the subject to a more palatable one, she said, “Why was Redgrave here? I thought the two of you could not be in the same room.”
Drake waved his hand. “Nothing of importance.”
“Surely, brother, you do not think me so stupid. At best, there is nothing but disdain between the two of you, yet you spent two hours together.”
He studied her for a minute, his expression, as always, unreadable. “Is there something in particular you think Redgrave and I should have been discussing?”
Goodness, it was hot in the room. “Of course not.” She hopped up and headed for the door. “I will see you at dinner.”
…
Early the following week, Redgrave strode up the path to the Earl and Countess of Chadwick’s country home where a three-day house party would commence. The gathering offered a pleasant break from the sometimes frenzied pace of the Season, and he intended to do some serious thinking about the plan he and Drake had come up with to stop Rumbold.
They’d worked out the major details during their time together, but due to Manchester’s position and prominence in the ton, the actual particulars had to be resolved by Redgrave. He had started on the project, but was awaiting word from a few more people.
He also had to settle, once and for all, the dilemma he had created with Mary. There was no denying the pull between the two of them. However, his attraction was no longer a passing thing—not only lust for her body—but a deep longing to have her for his own.
Forever.
Since he had not seen Mary after the carriage ride to her home where he’d almost lost complete control, and then had to face her brother, he had no idea if she planned to attend the Chadwick event.
He’d watched for her at various balls and other events he had attended but never came across her. With the end of the Season flurry almost upon them, it was quite possible she merely chose other affairs with which to grace her presence. As much as he would have liked to call at Manchester House on her receiving days, he didn’t feel comfortable testing his tenuous reconciliation with Manchester.
His valet followed him up the pathway where Lord Chadwick greeted the arriving guests. “Redgrave. Glad you could make it. M’wife is helping one of the ladies. The footman at the door will show you to your room.” Chadwick slapped him on the back, his ruddy face beaming. The man loved house parties as much as most ladies. Apparently, Lady Chadwick kept a close eye on his brandy bottle since he was known to over imbibe and then go shooting. Sometimes with frightening results. With all the company, he could drink to his liking and the men would be sure to keep him safe from himself while he hunted.
He followed the footman up the stairs, nodding his greeting to the other guests. He scanned the drawing room where the gathering took tea, as well as those out in the garden. No Mary.
After giving his valet instructions, Redgrave refreshed himself and headed downstairs. From the looks of it, quite a few attendees had accepted the invitation for three days away from Town. With the weather getting warmer and the stench of the Thames increasing with the heat, the country was a much more pleasant place to be. He was anxious himself to flee to the country as soon as Parliament ended.
If only the search for his bride had succeeded.
Lady Barrows, with her three daughters following behind, stopped him on the way to the garden. “Redgrave, how nice to see you.” She turned to the girls lined up like chicks after a mother hen. “I am sure you know my daughters. Lady Diane, Lady Gertrude, and Lady Elizabeth.”
All three girls dipped well-executed curtsies. “My ladies, a pleasure to see you.” He bowed, his scrutiny drifting over the new arrivals joining those in the garden.
“Lady Diane will be performing for us this evening,” Lady Barrows tittered. “She is quite accomplished in the pianoforte and sings like an angel.”
The young girl blushed and batted her eyelashes. God save him from marriage-minded mamas and blushing debutantes. And he never quite understood why a woman’s voice or aptitude at the pianoforte made her more appealing as a wife. He’d learned
from sorry experience that kindness, caring, and honesty were much more welcoming traits.
“I am sure it will be a most enjoyable performance. I look forward to it.”
Lady Barrows eyed him as if she were selecting the best cut of meat at the butcher. “Perhaps you would escort her to the garden to partake of tea and refreshments? We were just headed that way, but my youngest daughter seems to have torn the hem of her gown, so we must return to have her maid see to it. Lady Diane was especially looking forward to tea.” She beamed brightly at the girl.
Bloody hell. Here he was planning on searching the entire house for Mary. Instead, he extended his arm. “It would be my pleasure to escort you, Lady Diane.”
She tittered, making his skin crawl. Mama Barrows smiled warmly at her daughter and said, “It might be a while before we are able to get Lady Elizabeth’s gown fixed.” She waved at them as she hustled her daughters away. “Don’t wait for us, just go and enjoy yourselves.”
He led the girl out the door to the garden. He still did not see the woman he was anxious to meet.
His spirits fell. Could it be she was not attending?
“My lord, I am so excited about the ball at the end of the house party. Mother and I spent hours picking out the right pattern and material for my gown. Our modiste was most complimentary on how lovely the color was, and how flattering it was to my complexion.”
When she started another harangue on her matching slippers and gloves, he turned his ears off and continued to search for Mary. He and Lady Diane collected cups of tea and a plate of biscuits, which they carried to a small table near the door. Redgrave nodded in the girl’s direction as she nattered on, all the time his attention riveted on the opening between the house and the patio.
His diligence paid off when Mary and the Dowager Duchess of Manchester strolled arm in arm through the door, heads together, quietly laughing.
He was captivated. Her spirited eyes flashed with amusement, the smile on her face enough to warm a frigid room. Her golden brown hair had been swept from her face, leaving tiny tendrils to dance lightly near her silken cheeks. His eyes ate up her form as she wandered to the refreshment table. Curved in all the right places, her body moved smoothly, as though she floated across the floor.
The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) Page 16
