The Unofficial Suitor

by Charlotte Louise Dolan

  “Oh, as to that, I have it all thought out. We can take her to a few assemblies in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and I am sure we can find her a suitable gentleman there who will count himself fortunate to marry an earl’s daughter. Then after they are firmly buckled, it will be up to her husband to see to such things as court presentations.” He chuckled. “And I shall thereby save a pocketful of brass. I hope you appreciate, my sweet, that you are marrying a very frugal man, who knows how to hold household. I shall not fritter away a fortune by riotous living, or gamble it away like young Rowcliff did.”

  With every word he spoke, Ellen felt her disquiet grow. Indeed, what she was feeling already went far beyond what could be termed disquiet. Panic was a more suitable word.

  “Would we ... that is, do you plan to entertain much once we are back in Northumberland?” she asked hesitantly. Maybe she was jumping to unwarranted conclusions? Maybe life there would not be as bad as it was beginning to appear? Maybe there was something she could still look forward to, even if she had to give up London shops and London balls and London theater and the opera, and ... and everything that made life worth living.

  “I have no time to waste on such things, nor any inclinations along that line. My father was never one to socialize much, and the older I become, the more I realize the wisdom of his ways.”

  Why had she never seen it before? Dillingham was cut from the same cloth as her late unlamented husband, the Earl of Blackstone.

  “It is fortunate that you already have so many gowns, so we will not need to postpone the wedding while you purchase your bridal clothes. I shall arrange to have the banns called immediately, so that we can be married in St. George’s without delay. A pity that we have to wait three weeks, but it is better than the expense of a special license.”

  He patted her knee, then squeezed it hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. Ellen felt herself shrinking away from him. Just three weeks before she would have to marry this ... this provincial oaf! It did not bear contemplating. In fact, if she allowed herself to think about being sequestered—no, imprisoned!—for the rest of her life in Northumberland, she would lose control of the tears that were even now threatening to spill out of her eyes. Oh, she was trapped—horribly, awfully, revoltingly trapped! No one could possibly help her now.

  For the first time since they had left Cornwall, she understood how her step-daughter felt—except that no one, not even her despised step-son, had forced her to say yes to Dillingham’s offer. She had walked blindly into his trap with no one pushing her, and thus she had no one to blame but herself.

  It was not the slightest consolation.

  * * * *

  Although obviously unaccustomed to such surroundings, Atherston had not raised an objection when Richard had suggested celebrating his impending marriage—or, rather, his impending proposal—in a tavern near the wharves. In fact, it had been Perry who had turned up his nose when he had seen what a low dive Richard was leading them into.

  After the first round of ale had been drunk and the second round called for, Richard clapped Atherston on the back. “You are indeed fortunate to be in a position to marry Lady Cassiopeia. If I had a younger brother, or even a cousin, I should not hesitate to make a push to cut you out.”

  “I am no fool,” Atherston replied. “I am fully aware that her brother will cost me a pretty penny before all is said and done. But if he expects to get aught from me beyond the marriage settlement, he will have to toe the line. He who pays the piper, calls the tune, as the saying goes. He will find I am not an easy man to chouse out of what is rightfully mine.”

  Richard and Perry exchanged deliberately meaningful looks, and like a trout rising to a fly, Atherston snapped at the lure.

  “Here, here, what is the meaning of the odd looks? If there is something I should know, then out with it. I already know the earl’s estate is heavily encumbered, and the man himself is nothing more than a dashed loose screw.”

  “Something else,” Perry muttered. “But don’t know as I should tell you. Thought you knew, but it ‘pears like it’s a secret.”

  “It is quite all right,” Richard was quick to reassure him. “I am sure that neither Lord Blackstone nor Lady Cassiopeia has engaged in a deliberate attempt to trick Atherston.” Turning to the baron, who was fortifying himself from his tankard, Richard said quite matter-of-factly, “You were doubtless already informed, were you not, that Lady Cassiopeia can never bear a son?”

  The baron choked on his ale, and Perry quite helpfully pounded him on the back until he waved his hands in a signal to desist.

  “What are you talking about?” he finally managed to croak out.

  “Why,” Richard replied, his composure still intact, “it is common knowledge among the haut ton that there has never been anything but girls in her family.”

  “Never was, never will be,” Perry contributed.

  “A brother—she has a brother,” Atherston said, his voice still a little husky.

  Looking suitably mournful, Perry and Richard shook their heads. “Half-brother,” Perry said.

  “Totally different mothers,” Richard added.

  “And her mother never had no sons.”

  “And her grandmother never had any sons.”

  “And her mother ...”

  “And her mother’s mother ...”

  “None of them ever had a boy.”

  Atherston looked first at Perry, then at Richard. “This cannot be true.”

  “Not a single son born to them, all the way back to the beginning,” Richard said, wondering if it would occur to Atherston to ask just how the beginning was to be determined. “But you were properly informed of this, were you not?”

  Atherston swore with a fluency Richard had not heard since Raoul Pironquet had discovered that someone had added a second set of markings to his own marked cards.

  “On the contrary, my dear sir. I have heard no mention of this.”

  “That’ll have been my grandmother’s doing, I expect,” Perry drawled. “Doubtless she advised the chit to keep mum on the subject.”

  “Lady Letitia—my word, it never occurred to me. I had no idea she was involved in finding a husband for Lady Cassiopeia. If I had known, be sure I would have suspected something havey-cavey right from the beginning.”

  “Probably why she didn’t acknowledge her connection to the chit,” Perry added.

  “Connection? I was not aware that you were related to Lady Cassiopeia.”

  Perry waved his hand dismissingly. “Doubt if I am. But that don’t mean anything. Can’t keep track of my own blood relatives, much less sort out the miscellaneous connections my assorted step-grandpapas have dragged into the family.”

  “But this is all beside the point,” Richard said with assumed bonhomie. “We are here to celebrate your forthcoming nuptials. You will have to make the best of a bad bargain. Having already offered for the girl, you will look a proper cad if you back out at this late date.”

  “That is where you are wrong,” Atherston declared with ill-concealed rage. Slamming his empty tankard down on the table, he stood up. “I have not yet offered for the chit. Only told her brother I had something I wished to discuss with him. That is not the same as making an offer.”

  “Still and all,” Perry was quick to point out, “he’ll do his best to keep you from shabbing off. Why, doubtless he’s already spread the word among his creditors that his hand is soon to plunge deeply into your pockets.”

  “He can try whatever he likes,” Atherston replied in a cold voice. “But first he will have to find me. Even if he learns I have flown the coop, I own a half dozen large estates and any number of smaller properties. With only a little effort, I can avoid the earl for months.”

  “That’s the proper spirit.” Perry clapped him on the back.

  “You do not intend to explain to the earl in person then?” Richard asked.

  Trapped for a moment by the invisible bonds of what a gentleman may and may not do, Atherston
vacillated, but soon his face brightened. “I shall write him a letter—tell him I have been called away unexpectedly.”

  The landlord was summoned and a sheet of paper was soon produced, along with the necessary pen and ink.

  Atherston scribbled for a few minutes, then folded the paper and sealed it with some drops of wax from the candle. After pressing his seal into the soft wax, he then handed Richard the missive.

  “‘Tis done, and I thank you for your assistance this evening. You will see to it that Lord Blackstone receives my note?”

  “I am happy to be of service,” Richard replied, although he was hard-pressed to control his smile of satisfaction until Atherston was safely out the door. Blessings on Lady Letitia for having given him the key to the baron’s character.

  His smile was wiped from his face, however, when a man spoke up from a table in the corner. “Well done, Hawke.”

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  Turning in his chair, Richard peered through the gloom. To his chagrin, he recognized the speaker, Captain Rymer, and seated beside him was the ex-smuggler, Digory Rendel.

  “If I had known I had an audience, I would have written the script with more attention to the humor inherent in the situation,” Richard commented. “Although the sport is over, will you not join us?”

  The two men obliged, and the landlord brought another round of ale.

  “I feel I should warn you,” Digory said after he had taken a deep draught from his tankard, “that Blackstone intends to extract the maximum payment for my sister. Now that you have disposed of her three official suitors, I hope your pockets are sufficiently well lined to pay his price.”

  Richard was silent for a moment, then he said, “I shall not pay one farthing for your sister. I am afraid the mere thought of purchasing another human being is totally repugnant to me. But I shall marry her nonetheless.”

  “In that case, you can be sure that the earl will not part with her willingly,” Digory pointed out, his tone reasonable. “Which in turn means you will have to apply a little coercion to persuade him to see your point of view. Or do your principles also prohibit such activities?”

  “With so much at stake here,” Richard replied, “you will find me quite flexible. The problem as I see it is that having neither reputation nor money, Blackstone is not open to blackmail.”

  “The only thing he would not wish to lose is his freedom,” Perry pointed out. “He knows full well he is in danger of being thrown into debtor’s prison. Perhaps you might hurry things along by buying up his outstanding debts.”

  “It would be far cheaper,” Captain Rymer interjected, “if you merely told him that if he does not agree to the marriage, you will have him kidnapped and sold to the Barbary pirates.”

  Richard rose from his chair. “I thank you for the suggestion, but I cannot pursue such courses. Although I could cheerfully wish him to the devil, I could never actually have a man thrown into prison, nor sell him into slavery, no matter what he has done. But have no fear, gentlemen, I shall undoubtedly think of something effective.”

  “But listen to what he is saying, Richard.” Perry caught his arm and restrained him from leaving. “It would not be necessary to do anything more than convince Blackstone that you are prepared to follow such a course if he refuses. Even if he suspects that you are bluffing, he will never dare risk such a fate.”

  Richard sat down again at the table. “There is much to what you say. Tell me more details.”

  Captain Rymer smiled and began to explain just what he had in mind.

  * * * *

  “A gentleman to see you,” the footman said. “I have put him in the library.”

  Geoffrey checked his watch—eleven o’clock. It was always gratifying when a man was punctual for his own fleecing. Checking his cravat one more time, he left his room and descended the stairs.

  “Well met, Atherston,” he said before he realized that the man silhouetted in front of the window was not the expected baron.

  “Good morning, Lord Blackstone.” The reply was formal and gave no hint of the man’s purpose in coming here.

  “Mr. Hawke, is it not?” Geoffrey asked. “You will excuse me, I am sure, but I do not have time to speak with you right now. I am expecting a visitor. But please understand, I shall be perfectly willing to see you at some later date if you will make an appointment. “

  His unexpected visitor did not make any move toward the door. Remaining where he was, he said, “Atherston has taken to his heels. He asked me to deliver this note.”

  Doing his best to disguise his anger, Geoffrey took the piece of paper Mr. Hawke was holding out to him. Perusing it quickly, he crumpled it into a ball and tossed it aside. Then reaching in his pocket, he extracted a coin and without looking at it, flipped it to the other man, who caught it expertly.

  “A little something for your trouble, Mr. Hawke. Or did Atherston already pay you to run his errand?”

  Mr. Hawke looked down at the coin in his hand, smiled, and tucked it into the pocket of his waistcoat. Something about the expression on his face made Geoffrey think he had erred when he had tried to insult the man.

  “I am here to inform you that I am going to marry your sister,” Mr. Hawke said bluntly.

  Really, the man’s insolence knew no bounds. Pressing his lips tightly together to prevent intemperate speech, Geoffrey thought rapidly. That Mr. Hawke had had a hand in sending Atherston away, he had no doubt. And now that he thought on it, this was the same man who had gambled with Rowcliff and won half his fortune. Had he also had something to do with Fauxbridge’s defection?

  Casting his mind back over what he had heard about that disgusting episode, Geoffrey thought he remembered that Mr. Hawke’s name had been mentioned, although he could not recall precisely in what connection.

  It did not take much intelligence to realize that the man standing before him had undertaken to meddle in his affairs to an astonishing degree. Geoffrey’s immediate thought was to refuse to deal with this man and to make Cassie take her chances in Leeds. On the other hand, that would entail additional expense, and moreover, it was rumored around London that this Mr. Hawke was in possession of a handsome fortune. There might be more profit to be had by complying. Geoffrey spoke quite calmly and politely.

  “It appears, my good sir, that you have emerged the winner of the competition, even though you are something of a dark horse. Very well, I shall allow you to marry my sister ... if you can meet my price.”

  And that price would be double what he would have required from any of the three peers, Geoffrey decided, but Mr. Hawke would not be able to complain. If he even tried to dicker like a blasted shopkeeper, Geoffrey would take delight in refusing him outright.

  “I will not pay you a single farthing for your sister,” Mr. Hawke replied. “But be advised, I mean to have her as my wife with or without your consent.”

  The man’s insolence was intolerable. He would have done well to show a little more humility in front of his betters. Although after what he had just said, he could grovel at Geoffrey’s feet without altering the outcome of this conversation.

  “You mean to have her?” Geoffrey asked with a smile. “Apparently it has slipped your mind, my dear fellow, that she is under twenty-one and cannot marry without my consent. And I shall see you in Hades before I give you my permission. All you have achieved by your insolence is to destroy forever your chance to marry my sister, which chance I admit was rather remote from the beginning.”

  “The choice, of course, is up to you,” Mr. Hawke replied, his face showing no sign of discomposure. “But before you refuse me, you might bear in mind that if I am not married to your sister within the week, you will be kidnapped and sold to the Barbary pirates. Arrangements have already been made, my lord, and if anything untoward should happen to me or to Lady Cassiopeia, then you will find yourself in the hold of a ship, in chains, being carried off to a place where I have heard it is even hotter than Hades.”

 
With difficulty Geoffrey restrained himself from blurting out something rash. No, he must keep control. If only he had time to think ...

  Suddenly it came to him—the perfect plan. If he let this insolent upstart think he had won, then Geoffrey would achieve a double goal. He would not only have the time he needed to plot Mr. Hawke’s downfall, but by his apparent acquiescence, he would throw the man off his guard.

  “Very well,” Geoffrey said, deliberately scowling and grinding his teeth so that the other man would not suspect he was planning any treachery, “but do not expect me to dance at your wedding.”

  “I want the permission in writing,” Mr. Hawke said in a soft voice, which held so much menace that for a moment Geoffrey considered giving up his plans for revenge.

  But no, he would send the encroaching Mr. Hawke to his eternal damnation if he had to shoot the cursed fellow in the back himself.

  * * * *

  For once her step-mother was being remarkably subdued, Cassie realized with relief. Waiting for her brother to summon her into Mr. Atherston’s presence, her own nerves were totally on edge. She could not have tolerated Ellen’s usual chattering.

  It was already ten minutes past the hour, and she had heard the faint sounds of the large front door opening and closing precisely at eleven, so it would appear the baron had presented himself precisely on schedule.

  How long would it take for Geoffrey and Lord Atherston to come to an agreement as to her purchase price?

  She pushed those thoughts out of her mind lest she burst out crying. Deciding that even her step-mother’s chattering was better than thoughts of marriage settlements, she asked, “When do you and Mr. Dillingham plan to be married?”

  “As soon as the banns have been called,” Ellen answered simply.

  When there was no elaboration on that bald fact, Cassie looked at her in amazement. Why was her step-mother not chattering away about invitations and parties and ... and shopping? Why was she even now sitting here instead of being fitted for an entire new wardrobe?