“Are you going to open your packages?”
His breath wafted over her. She inched a little closer to the table to put a respectable distance between them. “Yes, of course. My friends must have sent me something, though I told them not to.” With trembling fingers, she quickly opened the first package. She couldn’t stop the delighted gasp that filled her when she saw the sapphire gossamer gown nestled in the tissue. On top of the gown was a small card. As she read it, confusion swarmed her.
Dear Lady Cringlewood,
I do so hope these gowns, unmentionables, etc. meet all the requirements that were set before me by your admirer. The silver gown will be done in time for the upcoming ball, as your admirer specifically requested. If you will come see me when you reach London, I will fit you to make sure it’s perfect for him and you.
All the best,
Madame Marmont
Audrey froze, very aware of Lord Thortonberry standing so near she could hear each breath he took and feel the heat of his body. He was the only man who knew she was coming to London, and he understood very well she couldn’t afford new gowns. His thoughtfulness and generosity touched her to her core. Slowly, she turned toward him and inhaled sharply at just how close he was. She started to fidget but forced herself to stand still. “You shouldn’t have had these gowns made, but I vow it’s the nicest thing any man has ever done for me.”
He swallowed repeatedly, his throat visibly moving in his neck as he did so. Did he think himself a fool for what he had done, since she hadn’t commented earlier on his proposal that she fall in love with another man? The last thing she ever wanted to do was hurt him. “Lord Thortonberry―”
“Can I speak first, Lady Audrey?”
She pressed her lips together and nodded.
He raked a hand through his hair. “I’ve cared for you for years.”
“What about Lady Caroline?” she squeaked.
“It was a ruse to get close to you. I’d tried everything else I could think of, but you never noticed me.”
Her cheeks heated instantly. “I noticed you,” she whispered.
“As a friend.”
That was true. She couldn’t deny it.
He gently grasped her elbow. “I know you think you loved Davenport, even though you deny it, but I’m begging you to give me a chance. He’s not here, and I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t see him as the type to ever marry you. I want to marry you.”
“You do?” Her heart thumped wildly, but more out of fear than excitement.
“I do. I’ve known forever that you’re perfect for me. You’re strong, determined and brilliant, and you have my heart in your hands.”
“Lord Thortonberry,” she chided, trying to tug her elbow away. How she’d longed to hear similar words from Trent. Why must she hear them now and not feel as she should?
“Please.” He tightened his grip on her elbow, not painfully but with enough pressure that she stilled and met his beseeching gaze. “I’m right for you and good for you. I would never let you down and I would always treasure you, if you would just give me the chance.”
How could she not? She nodded. “All right. I promise when I’m in London for the Season to give you a proper chance.”
A smile of relief spread across his face and he hugged her to him just as her aunt entered the room. Without a word, her aunt shook her head and tsked. Audrey disentangled herself while glaring at her disapproving aunt. “We better get going. I think a storm may be coming and we don’t want to be caught in it as we make our way to London.”
“Yes, all right,” Lord Thortonberry agreed.
Audrey nearly sighed with relief. Her aunt took her by the elbow and pulled her toward the door. As they stepped outside, Aunt Hillie pressed close to her and whispered under her breath, “The weather looks perfectly lovely to me.”
Audrey tensed. “Do be quiet. If I say the weather looks dreadful can you not simply agree?”
“Do you wish me to agree with every ridiculous thing you do or say?”
“Yes,” Audrey snapped and stormed toward the carriage, wishing she felt more like the giddy girl she had when she’d gone to London to see Trent instead of like a beleaguered lady going off to participate in a dreadful task otherwise known as the Season.
London, England
By God, it was wonderful to be back on English soil. Trent whistled as he strolled into White’s. According to the invitation from the Duke and Duchess of Primwitty, he had a good half hour before he needed to worry about making his way to their home for their annual ball of the Season. He was in a fine mood, but one’s mood could always be made a little finer with a glass of whiskey. The liquor would also serve to settle the tension coiling through him. Leave it to an impending encounter with Audrey to make him feel like a schoolboy about to embark on his first attempt at courting.
He grinned in anticipation. He didn’t expect Audrey to welcome him with open arms, but nevertheless he was looking forward to the challenge of softening her. He was also anticipating seeing her in the silver silk gown he’d written to his cousin to have Madam Marmont make. In his dreams, she’d looked stunning in an almost sheer gown of silver. Of course, this gown would not be sheer, but he had no doubt she’d be breathtaking.
He would place his entire fortune on the gamble that the reality of her in the gown was better. The silver should perfectly match the flecks in her eyes and contrast nicely with her rich black hair. He warmed just imagining her in the creation. Better yet, he wanted to imagine taking her out of it. Not tonight, of course, but soon, once she realized they were a perfect match even without declarations of the heart.
Trent scanned the few men standing in the doorway of White’s but didn’t see Dinnisfree. His friend’s note had said to meet him here. When Trent had returned from France yesterday, he had sent word to his family and Dinnisfree, though Dinnisfree had already known when to expect him. Trent had written him after he found out Gwyneth was truly gone, and told Dinnisfree he was coming home. And knowing Dinnisfree, he’d likely been keeping a watchful eye on Trent’s house in his absence. He’d have to thank his friend for his concern.
Trent moved past the crowd in the doorway and swept the room for the duke. His friend was nowhere in sight, but there was an interesting crowd gathered around White’s infamous betting book. It had been ages since he’d done something as carefree as place a bet. He strolled leisurely toward the book, nodding to various acquaintances as he went. The strange looks he received in return struck him as odd.
Even stranger was the way the crowd of men gathered around the betting book parted for him. More awkward greetings, a scattering of mumblings and a few jovial, forced-sounding hellos came to him as he walked up to the book.
Dinnisfree stood right by the book with wads of blunt clutched in his fists. “Ah, Davenport,” Dinnisfree boomed. “Gentlemen, see how finely Davenport is dressed? How he fills out his coat. How his gaze pierces. Mark my words, gentlemen, the lady in question will not be able to resist him. I don’t care if she has been laughing and dancing on the arm of the Marquess of Thortonberry for two weeks. I tell you, no man is a match for my friend.”
The men erupted into noise as more bills waved in the air before being shoved at Dinnisfree. Calls of double me down and increase my bet sounded around Trent. Anger started to simmer deep within. Anything having to do with Thortonberry was bound to be nefarious, and deadly for the man if the woman in question was Audrey. Trent cleared his throat, hoping Dinnisfree would take a hint and excuse himself. His friend grinned in return.
Dinnisfree bandied a hand in Trent’s direction. “Gentlemen, if you haven’t bet, feast your eyes on the only man who could possibly win. His hair may be a bit too long, but his tongue is silver. Speak, Davenport, and let these men hear how you will woo Lady Audrey and therefore win her heart and money for them.”
Damn Dinnisfree. What the devil was he up to? Trent snatched up the book and searched the bets for anything that might catch his eye. He
moved his finger over a sentence and stopped, his anger going from a simmer to a boil.
Lord Justin Holleman, the Duke of Dinnisfree, wagers twenty pounds against Mr. Drake Sutherland that Lord Rutherford, the Marquess of Davenport, will win the heart and therefore the hand of Lady Audrey Cringlewood away from the current forerunning suitor, Lord Clayworth, the Marquess of Thortonberry.
Black fury swept through him. Thortonberry would never be Audrey’s husband. Trent may not be able to give her the love she desired, but Thortonberry would not even give her fidelity. He’d come back just in time. Trent threw the book on the table and swept his gaze over the silent group of men. “I’ll stake my entire fortune on me,” he snarled before turning on his heel and storming out the front door.
The stifling air that enveloped him as he pounded down the steps and onto the street did nothing to cool his temper. He headed for his carriage that still stood at the curb. His coachman blinked at him in surprise. “My lord, are you already leaving?”
Trent nodded. “Take me to Lady Whitney’s house.” The little fiend had some explaining to do. He didn’t doubt for a minute she was somehow behind some part or possibly all of this. The coachman started to nod, but Trent held up a hand, rethinking his command. “Never mind that. Take me to the Duke and Duchess of Primwitty’s home.”
He slammed the carriage door shut only to have it yanked open as Dinnisfree scrambled in. “Smart move going to the Primwitty home first. You don’t want to give Thortonberry one more minute to gain ground on you. I’ve lots of coin riding on you.”
Trent glared at his friend. “Didn’t I tell you to keep Thortonberry away from her?”
“You did.” Dinnisfree tugged his coattails out from under him before settling himself.
“Then why the hell didn’t you?”
Dinnisfree withdrew a flask from his coat. Slowly, and Trent suspected to get on his last nerve, Dinnisfree unscrewed the top and tipped the container up. After he took a sip, he swiped a hand across his lips and settled the cap before speaking. “I trailed the man the entire first week they were here. He never once visited a hellfire club.”
“You’re sure?” Trent’s brow furrowed.
Dinnisfree leaned forward in his seat. “As sure as I possibly can be. I could not watch him every waking moment, so technically, he could have gone when I slept, but you know how little I sleep.”
“Yet you do,” Trent said flatly. “So the possibility exists that the man did indeed go to the hellfire clubs while you were sleeping.”
“I suppose,” Dinnisfree grumbled. But Lady Whitney assured me when Lady Audrey came out of mourning two weeks ago and traveled to London that she and Sutherland were personally watching over her, and when your cousin seemed pleased that Lord Thortonberry was courting Lady Audrey and I had not seen him at the hellfire clubs, I decided not to interfere. I assumed your cousin new best. There are rumors swirling around the ton about Lady Audrey’s family.”
Trent nodded, having suspected that would happen.
Dinnisfree continued. “In light of the rumors, I thought your cousin best situated to help Lady Audrey. Of course, then I got your letter telling me you were a widower and would be back in a week, but I felt I should leave the matter of Lady Audrey to you.”
Trent grunted. He’d been right. His cousin had a hand in this, but why the devil was she pushing Lady Audrey into Thortonberry’s arms when Trent had very plainly stated in the missive he had sent that he had every intention of coming back to London posthaste and marrying Audrey? He tried to think back to his exact wording, but he couldn’t recall it, but damn it, he was sure he’d made his intent clear that he still believed he and Lady Audrey could have a very mutually beneficial marriage. Of course, he could not know for certain what his cousin had thought since she had no way of getting a letter to him.
Trent sat back in his seat as his frustration mounted. He did not believe Thortonberry was a changed man, but not only that, Trent wanted Audrey for himself. “When Lady Audrey arrives at the ball will you keep Thortonberry busy if he’s with her?”
“I take it you’ll be trying to win my money I put on the bet?”
“I will.”
“Please tell me you’ve a better strategy than offering the lady a loveless marriage of convenience.”
“I will offer her the moon and the stars,” Trent said half-jokingly.
Dinnisfree chuckled. “I fear, my friend, the lady will demand more than that to even spare you the time of day again.”
“I prefer you better when you’re quiet and drinking,” Trent growled, not liking the fact that Dinnisfree had touched on the one fear Trent possessed when it came to winning Audrey.
Audrey stood beside Whitney and her husband at the edge of the dance floor while waiting for Lord Thortonberry to return with her punch. There was something very odd going on, but she wasn’t sure what it was. Whitney was acting unusually edgy, fidgeting with her dress and moving from foot to foot, while her husband, a normally affable gentleman had barely said a word and kept glancing up toward the top of the staircase where the guests were being announced as they entered the Duke and Duchess of Primwitty’s ballroom.
“Are you expecting someone?” Audrey finally asked, tired of standing here watching her friend and her husband act like trapped mice. Both Whitney and her husband whipped their gazes to Audrey.
“No,” Mr. Sutherland answered with one last look at the stairs before he focused on her.
Audrey snorted. She’d bet all her pin money he was lying, if she had any pin money.
Whitney linked arms with her husband and smiled, though the wobbly effort appeared forced to Audrey. “Actually,” Whitney said, “I”―she flicked her gaze to her husband―“that is, we, had one more suitor we were hoping would appear tonight that we wanted you to have a chance to speak with.”
“Oh, goodness,” Audrey murmured, grateful yet a little concerned who else they’d throw in her path. In the two weeks since she’d arrived in London for the Season, she’d had no less than six gentlemen callers show up at her home, courtesy of Whitney, Sally, Gillian and their husbands. It seemed the wives had gently recruited their spouses to persuade their eligible bachelor friends to come and meet her. Not that any of the conspirators had let on to their secret plan. One very nervous yet sweet scientist, who was a childhood friend of the Duke of Primwitty’s, had clumsily confessed, after trying to kiss her, how glad he was he had overlooked the fact she had no money to her name and come to call on her.
It was all so embarrassing and gauche, yet well-intended, so she’d kept her mouth shut and dutifully spent the past two weeks going on various outings with her different suitors and her aunt as her chaperone. Enough was enough. She’d made up her mind last night, after another dreadfully boring theater outing with one of Mr. Sutherland’s friends, that the only man courting her so far that didn’t make her want to run in the other direction was Lord Thortonberry.
She cleared her throat. “You’ve all been incredibly kind, but I’ve made a decision that from here on out, I’m going to concentrate on seeing whether Lord Thortonberry and I would make a good match.”
“Oh.” Whitney frowned. “Have you decided you have a true tender for him, after all?”
Audrey’s cheeks heated with embarrassment at having this conversation in front of Whitney’s husband. She eyed Whitney and Whitney in turn gave a quick nod of understanding before facing her husband. “Darling, will you please fetch me some punch?”
“But a moment ago you said you weren’t thirsty when Thortonberry asked you.”
Whitney smiled gently. “I’m thirsty now.”
Grumbling, Mr. Sutherland departed and Whitney leaned close to Audrey. “I thought Lord Thortonberry didn’t inspire passion in you.”
“Hush,” Audrey hissed, wishing she’d not confessed her concern to Whitney.
“No one can hear us,” Whitney whispered. “Has something changed?”
Audrey nodded. “Yes, my outlook. Aft
er two weeks of being courted by seven men, I know without a doubt Lord Thortonberry is the only one I could stand being married to. And I think I felt a stirring of something that might be akin to passion tonight when he read me a poem he’d written for me.”
“Really? A poem inspired passion? It must have been a truly magnificent poem.” Whitney smirked before she started giggling.
Audrey smacked her friend on the arm. “Do be serious.”
“All right, I’m terribly sorry. So you now feel passion for the man.”
“I said possibly a stirring of what might be passion.” Rather she’d felt more like she did when she had her snuggly nightrail on―comfortable. Being with Lord Thortonberry was easy. He accepted her rather opinionated views, didn’t seem to want to change her and had professed on several occasions that his heart belonged to her. That was more than she had a right to hope for at this point.
Whitney stilled and her expression grew serious. “Dearest, I hate to see you marry a man who only might possibly stir passion in you. I do so wish for you to have a marriage like mine.”
An odd knot twisted in Audrey’s stomach. “I wanted that too, but you know perfectly well the only man I ever loved was not only possibly, mysteriously already married, but told me quite plainly he only wanted to offer me a marriage of convenience. He did not love me and clearly never thought he would.” Her words choked her. In a desperate attempt to regain her control, she bit her lip until it throbbed like her pulse. It worked, blessedly. Swallowing hard, she continued. “I’ll never marry a man who cannot love me. My father was incapable of love, and look what happened to my mother. No. Thank. You.”
An intense almost secretive expression crossed Whitney’s face before disappearing. “What if Sin comes back from France and announces he no longer has a wife?”
Whitney’s question caused gooseflesh to cover Audrey’s arms. Summoning her will, she shook her head. “What-ifs will not save me or my aunt from starving. Besides, Trent may come back a widower, but I refuse to marry a man who harbors secrets and cannot love me. Let’s do talk about something else. Trent is not here, and Lord Thortonberry is making his way back toward me.”
Dancing With A Devil Page 22
