by Jo Beverley
He’d studied all available information about the Earl of Hernescroft. Though portly and ruddy faced, he was in excellent health. His heir, Viscount Pranksworth, was thirty-two years old and already father of two sons, so the line seemed safe. If that branch failed, the earl had three other sons, one in the army, one in the navy, and one a Town idler.
There were also two daughters, both well married.
Or in one case, widowed, Dracy remembered, and stained by scandal. An image of a laughing face and fiery hair shot through his mind like a shooting star. He blanked it out. This was no time to be distracted by a highborn doxy.
Dracy took the crystal glass and raised it. “To fine horses and fine races, my lord.”
The earl raised his glass and repeated the toast. “Have a seat, Dracy. I’ve a matter to discuss with you.”
Very promising. Dracy sat in one upholstered chair and the earl took the other.
“I play, I pay,” Hernescroft said, “but there are methods of payment. Would you consider accepting a prize of equal value?”
Dracy took another sip of wine so as not to snatch the prize too quickly. “I would be churlish not to consider it, sir. Another horse, you mean?”
“Another horse?” Hernescroft’s pouchy eyes narrowed.
Not another horse?
“What else, to be of equal value?”
“I don’t have another mare to compare with Fancy Free, and I’d not offer less.”
“So you mean a stallion?” Dracy did his best to pretend surprise. “I recollect that you do have two of quality.”
His acting ability wasn’t up to the job.
“Damn me! Was that your game? Gosling-go, I assume.” The earl pulled a face. “Won’t play, Dracy. Took exception to something a few days back and tried to kick down his stall. Broke his hock. Had to be shot.”
“Dead,” Dracy said, trying to conceal the blow. He should have kept himself better informed, but even a few days ago the die had been cast. “Most unfortunate, my lord. I heard nothing of it.”
“I’d moved him to Lambourne to cover some mares there. Perhaps he objected to the relocation. I only heard the news myself yesterday.”
Dracy drank more wine, replotting his course. “Then I regret I’ll have to sell Fancy Free in order to purchase a stallion of quality.”
“Put her up for auction? Not the way to treat such a horse.”
“I agree, but I’ve less need of a fine mare than I have of a fine stallion. If you were to pay her value . . .”
The earl pinched his heavy lower lip. “Cash is damned hard to come by these days, Dracy. You must know that. The war, the prices. Things are bad all around.” He pushed out of his chair and went to the decanter. “One of my younger sons has proven expensive.”
He waved the bottle at Dracy, but he declined, wondering where this was leading.
The earl sat down again. “I could sell some unentailed land, but it’s a wicked thing to sell land. Wicked. A betrayal of our ancestors who gathered it.”
“I agree, sir,” Dracy said, thinking of the unentailed land Ceddie had sold, but also trying to anticipate what was coming.
Lieutenant Walter Perriam, RN’s gambling debts were no surprise, nor was the earl’s opinion about the sacred trust of land. Both had been part of his calculations. Hernescroft was steering a careful course of his own, however, and Dracy didn’t like the fact that he had no idea what it was.
“I have another exchange to propose.”
“Yes, sir?”
Hernescroft drank. Delaying?
“A different kind of filly, but worth more than Fancy Free. Much more.”
Dracy chose to be merely attentive.
“My daughter.”
“Your daughter?”
“Her portion’s twelve thousand. You could buy a herd of stallions for that. You’ll have to sign settlements for a widow’s jointure of two thousand a year and give her generous pin money, but the twelve thousand will be yours, cash in hand, upon your wedding day. It’s a more than fair exchange.”
“It is indeed,” Dracy said, feeling as if he’d been navigating a tricky shore and been ambushed by a dense fog.
“I’m speaking of my youngest girl, Lady Maybury. A widow, but ripe to marry again.”
Titian hair.
Laughing, minxish beauty.
Wicked, wanton doxy.
Attached to that lady the word “ripe” was alarming, and this offer was astounding. He was no match for an earl’s well-dowried daughter.
“You’ll have heard of her,” the earl prompted.
“She was pointed out to me at the race.”
“Devil take the chit!” the earl exploded. “Dressed in breeches to boot. I’ll give Pranksworth a piece of my mind for bringing her, but he’ll say she’d have come anyway. Headstrong, headstrong. But,” he added quickly, “not leather mouthed and no true vice in her.”
The fog had parted a little, but only to reveal jagged rocks.
“Not an attractive package,” Dracy said, remembering his pity of the man who had to tame her.
Surprisingly, the earl laughed. “Is she not? Then why are half the men in England drooling after her? That’s my problem, Dracy. She plans to marry again. Only natural at twenty.”
“Twenty!” Dracy exclaimed. He’d imagined such a sinful jade to be much older.
“Married her off at sixteen. Maybury was well known to us and had just come into his earldom. He was only nineteen, but his mother and guardians were keen to see him wedlocked before he reached his majority and married a doxy.”
Dracy kept the obvious comment to himself.
“Couldn’t manage her, of course. Encouraged her in folly, if the truth is told. The fool liked her causing talk. Lady May, the beau monde dubbed her, but we thought she’d settle once she had children. That didn’t happen, and then there was the Vance affair.”
“Vance?”
“Sir Charnley Vance,” the earl said. “The one who killed Maybury in a duel. You’ll have heard of that?”
“Only a snippet, at the race.” Dracy had the distinct impression that Hernescroft wished he’d not mentioned it.
“Ah, well, overseas when it happened, I suppose. Plaguey business all around.”
“Was this Vance her lover, my lord? I wouldn’t normally ask such a question, but as the lady is being proposed to me as wife . . .”
“She swears not, and I’d say that for all her faults, she’s truthful. Never sought to hide any other sins,” Hernescroft added with a scowl.
“Then why would her husband call this Vance out?”
“Devil alone knows. A greater piece of folly I’ve never seen. The story was Maybury had clashed wheels with a wagon during some madcap race. Vance taunted him and it exploded into a challenge. Men have met for less, but Maybury was an easygoing fellow, so people talked. Gossip always chooses the dirty path, and word spread that they fought over my daughter. Then that Vance was her lover. Some of the men who were present at the argument claimed her name came into it, but they all admitted to being deep in drink.”
“I appreciate your frankness, my lord. Permit me to be equally frank in return. Your daughter’s portion would be useful to me, and in monetary terms it’s many times the value of Fancy Free. But when I choose a wife I’ll choose one likely to give me tranquil days and make me a comfortable home.” He suddenly thought of something else. “She’s borne no children?”
“None.”
“How long was she married?”
“Three and a half years.”
“I would also want a wife who could fill a nursery. My apologies, but Lady Maybury fails to meet my requirements in any way.”
“Does she indeed?” Hernescroft took something out of his pocket to pass over.
It was a miniature, and for a moment, it stopped Dracy’s heart.
By God.
Here was the woman he’d glimpsed at a distance, but now she looked out at him with a mischievous invitation. Sparkling sea
green eyes, full smiling lips, a flawless complexion, and that abundance of Titian red hair, in this case threaded carelessly with pearls.
True beauties were rare, but if the picture was honest, the wicked Countess of Maybury was one. His visceral reaction was a warning shot across the bow. A sensible man would turn and run, but he’d never been sensible in that way.
He forced his eyes away and looked at the earl. “Why would this woman want to marry me?”
“She’ll do as she’s told.”
Dracy doubted that.
“You don’t seem shy of a gamble, Dracy. No saying who was to blame for the empty nursery.”
“A tranquil wife and comfortable home?”
Hernescroft chuckled. “Are you sure you want that? You’ve lived an eventful life and might not take to being becalmed.”
He was impressed with the earl’s insight. Dracy had cursed the condition of his new estate and the work it involved, but did he really aspire to live as placidly as Knowlton? Constant storms were unpleasant, but constant calm could drive men mad.
“What of the scandal? Will she be accepted back in society?”
“She’s still my daughter, and nothing was proved against her. On our advice, she’s spent her mourning year here, living quietly in seclusion, letting it all die down. She still has many friends and admirers. At least two of the men here today are drawn as much by the hope of seeing her as by the race. She’ll probably soon be the darling of Town again, and there’s the rub.” The earl took another mouthful of wine and almost chewed it. “I’ll have her tied to a solid, decent husband before she picks a blackguard.”
“You know I’m solid and decent?”
“I’ve made inquiries.”
Ah. The fog had almost cleared, but the jagged shore still threatened, and now an enemy warship had appeared.
Hernescroft had been playing as deep a game over the race as he. Had he planned to lose, even arranged to lose?
No, that would be against the earl’s nature in all respects, but he could have seen a way where he would win, whatever the result. Win the race and gain Carta. Lose, and rid himself of a troublesome daughter while still keeping Fancy Free.
Tempting to call his bluff and take Fancy Free anyway.
Foolish, though. In strictly practical terms, twelve thousand pounds would be a gift of the gods. It would buy a prize stallion and a few good mares as well as dealing with most of the necessary repairs.
A widow’s jointure of two thousand a year was ridiculously high for an estate such as his, but he could hope Dracy would be in fine state when that came due many decades hence. The generous pin money would have to be cut and any extravagance curtailed, but as he and his wife would be living quietly in the country, that shouldn’t be a hardship for her.
She wouldn’t like it, though, and a bitter wife was a hard burden.
Was he even considering this?
Yes.
It was a gamble, indeed it was, and one that would affect his whole life, but the sea was a chancier wench than any woman, and he had a way with women, even now.
He looked again at the miniature.
A siren. No, they’d been ugly and drawn sailors to their doom by song. Circe had been the beautiful enchantress encountered by Odysseus, but she’d turned his men into swine.
This one had turned a husband into a corpse.
“You can’t be expected to make your decision without a meeting,” the earl said, breaking the enchantment. “We’ll be dining soon, and she’ll be present. Join us. Only an informal meal for the men here for the race and those wives who accompanied them. You’ll know the men from racing circles. . . .”
Dracy realized he was still staring at the miniature. He returned it.
“Keep it for now if you wish,” Hernescroft said.
“No, thank you.”
The earl laughed. “Wise man. But you’re the type she needs. A man of iron, used to command.”
“Keelhauling and the cat-o’-nine-tails?”
The earl laughed. “No, no, but a switch now and then might do her good. Kept her in line as a girl. Come along, then, come along, and judge for yourself.”
A part of Dracy wanted to walk away from this treacherous bargain while he still had his wits, but he couldn’t resist an encounter. After all, he was in no danger. The scandalous Lady Maybury would have no interest in an impoverished scarred sailor, and once the earl accepted that, he’d find a way to pay the money.
End of excerpt
There’s a complete list of works on the next page.
Jo Beverley’s fiction
REGENCY
THE ROGUE’S WORLD
An Arranged Marriage
An Unwilling Bride
Christmas Angel
Forbidden
Dangerous Joy
The Dragon’s Bride
The Devil’s Heiress
The Demon’s Mistress (novella)
Hazard
Skylark
Lady Beware
To Rescue a Rogue
The Rogue’s Return
OTHER
Forbidden Magic
Lovers and Ladies (Omnibus Edition)
Lord Wraybourne’s Betrothed
The Stanforth Secrets
The Stolen Bride
Emily and the Dark Angel
THE MALLOREN WORLD –GEORGIAN
A Scandalous Countess
An Unlikely Countess
The Secret Duke
The Secret Wedding
A Lady’s Secret
A Most Unsuitable Man
Winter Fire
Devilish
Secrets of the Night
Something Wicked
Tempting Fortune
My Lady Notorious
MEDIEVAL ROMANCES
Lord of Midnight
Dark Champion
Lord of My Heart
NOVELLAS
“The Raven and the Rose” in
Chalice of Roses
“The Dragon and the Virgin Princess” in
Dragon Lovers
“The Trouble with Heroes” in
Irresistible Forces
“The Demon’s Bride” (Georgian, e-book special)
“The Demon’s Mistress” (Regency – e-book special)
A Brief Bio.
I was born and raised in England and moved to Canada in the mid-seventies. Now my husband and I have moved back home. All the better for research, as my fiction is nearly all set in England.
I’ve been writing historical romance, on and off, since I was a teenager, but I only settled to it seriously in the early ‘80s. My first book was published in 1988. Lord Wraybourne’s Betrothed is a classic Regency romance, available again in print and e-book, as are the five others that followed. Then I expanded into the longer, more complex, and spicier historical romance.
An Unlikely Countess, published in March 2011, was my 35th novel, and like all my recent ones, ranked high on the New York Times Bestseller list. A Scandalous Countess will be out in February 2011.
I write what I want to write, with my focus on bringing pleasure to my readers. Reading for pure pleasure is glorious, and I try to do my bit, and always leave my readers with a smile.
Publisher’s Weekly declared me “Arguably today’s most skillful writer of intelligent historical romance,” and Booklist declared my work, “Sublime!”
To find out more, please visit my web site. You can sign up there for my occasional newsletter. I have an author page on Facebook.
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