Dear God! He hadn’t thought of that damned bet in years! Not since Fenn had inherited an earldom beset with almost insurmountable debt. The man’s father had gambled away all the unentailed Fennington lands and left markers scattered all over the east end of London. Even as Felix Turnbridge attempted to pay off the debts as best he could, new markers appeared in the hands of burly men who demanded they be paid immediately. Broke and aware his life might be in danger, Fenn had approached Mark Comber, Earl of Aimsley, and requested a loan to cover the remaining markers.
Felix and Adam had been friends since Eton. Given Fenn’s ability to keep Adam out of scrapes at school—or help get him out of them—Patience Comber, Countess of Aimsley, convinced her husband to provide the funds necessary for Felix to pay off his bills. Little did she know just how the man thought he might reimburse the Aimsley earldom.
For it took a rather unusual gamble to do so, a gamble Felix decided was a sure bet.
And it was.
Felix bought a struggling newspaper business, turned it into the gossip rag, The Tattler, and took on the duty of editor—never letting anyone know he was the one who penned most of the gossip found in the weekly paper. Within three years, Fennington had paid off the Earl of Aimsley and was seeing to improving his earldom. No one knew he was the secret editor of The Tattler. Not even Adam.
But the Countess of Aimsley knew. At least, now she knew. And as a condition of his bid to marry Emelia Comber, Adam’s younger—and only—sister, Felix had to divest himself of his gossip rag. Patience Comber was about to become the secret editor of The Tattler.
Felix decided a bet was a bet, though, and he wasn’t about to tell Adam he needn’t live up to his end of the bargain. “I think you should know I have decided on whom I wish to marry,” he stated in a lowered voice.
Adam’s eyes widened. “You? Married?” he whispered, his head leaning in. “Do I know the poor chit?”
Felix cleared his throat and lifted his chin. “Indeed, although it’s probably been so long since you’ve seen her, you will have forgotten her,” he stated with an arched brow.
More than a bit stunned, Adam stared at his best friend for several seconds before asking, “She’s that young, is she?”
Felix allowed a one-shouldered shrug, managing to hide a wince at his friend’s words. It was true Emelia Comber was much younger than him, but he’d known her since she was in leading strings. “She’s out of the schoolroom, of course. Looks rather resplendent this evening. Perhaps you won’t even recognize her. God knows, I didn’t at first, when she attended a garden party with her mother,” Felix said, his voice betraying his affection for the young woman.
“Have you sought her father’s permission?” Adam asked, still rather surprised by the news—why, his best friend was about to be leg-shackled!
“Of course. Immediately after the garden party, in fact. I was given eight weeks to court her, and although the time has come when I can propose, I find I cannot. I lack the funds, you see. I could use the money from the bet for a wedding trip. You do want my bride to be happy, I hope.”
The viscount thought to make a joke refuting the earl’s claim of his future wife’s happiness, but thought better of it. He didn’t wish to begrudge his best friend anything.
“I will marry. Soon,” Adam replied with a nod. I have no idea whom I’ll marry, he thought with a hint of panic, his gaze once again taking in the guests at the ball. But I will.
“I’m relieved to hear it,” Felix replied with a nod. He had to withhold a chuckle when he realized Adam Comber had no idea who he planned to make his bride.
Or that they would soon be brothers.
Chapter 3
A Brother Finds a Sister in the Gardens
Meanwhile, out in the gardens
James Burroughs, Duke of Ariley, strode through the Weatherstone gardens, his manner far too serious for the mood that had settled over the storied surroundings. He had a passing thought as to how many couples might have shared their first kiss beneath the statue of Cupid or behind any one of the hedgerows that were perfectly planted to hide such scandalous acts.
Or there was the fountain, the bottom of which was always scattered with any number of coins. One of his old sovereigns was in there somewhere. The one he had tossed in the day he had proposed to his current wife. His duchess.
Helen Harrington had agreed to marry him in these very gardens, although his proposal had been made under a midday sun in full view of Lord Weatherstone. He had thought to propose in Kew Gardens, but one of the princesses was hosting a party that day, and he preferred a more private place in which to pledge his devotion.
Although James loved Helen, she hadn’t been his first love in life. Lily Albright had filled that role. Bore him two daughters and devoted her life to seeing to it that he, a future duke, would one day understand the importance of family despite the need to perform his duty. She had died...
James blinked as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. Dammit. He had promised he wouldn’t allow the environs of the gardens to bring on the melancholy. He had a wife now. Two small children in addition to the two grown daughters who were making their way in the world without him.
Finding his youngest sister, Elise, brought him back to the matter at hand. She was seated on the stone bench in front of the statue of Cupid, her gaze resting on the marble of the naked boy. Until he cleared his throat, he realized she was unaware of his presence. When she turned to regard him, he took note of how she rolled her eyes and how her shoulders seemed to slump.
Well, this isn’t going to be a pleasant conversation, he realized.
The prettiest of his three sisters, Elise was also a widow only a year out of mourning. From her reaction to his appearance, he realized she already knew why he had sought her out.
James took a seat on the bench next to her and followed her gaze. Cupid was regarding her with what he thought was a rather impertinent stare. “Did he hit his mark? Or miss it?” the duke wondered aloud.
Elise inhaled a breath and seemed to hold it a moment before letting it out in a huff. “Depends, I suppose. He got me good a long time ago. Mortally wounded me. I’m trying to decide if he’s going to renew his lease on that arrow or leave me be.”
Frowning, James angled himself on the bench and gave his sister a quelling glance. “Do share your preference,” he implored.
Tearing her gaze from the marble, Elise gave her brother a wan smile. “I thought I would sit here until I sorted it. Or he did on my behalf.”
James blinked. “How long have you been out here?”
Elise shrugged. “What time is it?”
The duke gave a long sigh. “He still loves you, Elise,” he said, knowing she had to be considering a marriage proposal. He knew because Godfrey Thorncastle had renewed his request for permission to marry Elise, despite the fact that she was two-and-thirty and could make her own decision on the matter. That she hadn’t been allowed to do so eighteen years ago was why she wasn’t married to the man right now. Why she was instead the Dowager Viscountess Lancaster.
“So he says in his letter,” she replied with a sigh.
Frowning again, James put his arm around his sister’s shoulders and pulled her against his side. “Have your feelings changed? I know you once loved him—”
“So why did you allow Father to force Lancaster on me?” she countered, her sudden anger apparent in the set of her shoulders and the ire in her voice.
James pulled his arm back as if she had burned him. “As I recall, I little say in the matter,” he replied quickly. “And even if I had, circumstances required a... ” He stopped when he realized she was suddenly staring at him.
“Circumstances?” she repeated.
Rolling his eyes—a trait all the Burroughs children had learned from their mother—James sighed. “Father couldn’t afford a dowry for you.” When he saw the look of puzzlement slowly develop on her face, he added, “He had just finished paying dowries for Margaret and Jan
e—far more than he should have, if you ask me. Lancaster wanted a duke’s daughter for a wife and agreed to forego a dowry to have you. He had more clout. And Father owed him a gambling debt—”
“This was about... money?” Elise replied, her ire increasing with each breath. I should have run away with Thorncastle, she thought then, an option she and Godfrey had briefly considered all those years ago. But Godfrey had little in the way of funds back then, his father’s viscountcy always on the brink of receivership.
“It’s always about money, Elise,” James replied in hushed tones, hoping her outburst hadn’t been overheard by any of the others who were strolling the gardens. Or hiding behind the hedgerows. “Although... ” He allowed the thought to go unspoken. Godfrey Thorncastle had managed to build up a small fortune over the years. And the Ariley dukedom could certainly afford to give Elise her inheritance. His careful management and the employment of a secretary who was actually an accomplished estate manager helped in that regard.
“Although?” Elise prompted.
“It’s not anymore. Thorncastle’s fortunes have changed. He can afford to take a wife,” he explained. “He never did, you know. Stayed in the country except when he had to be in London for Parliament. Has a rather fashionable townhouse here in the city. Doesn’t gamble, although he plays a decent hand of whist. There’s not been a hint of scandal regarding the man.”
Elise listened to the list of the viscount’s virtues, still wishing she had known of her father’s reason for making her marry Marcus Lancaster in the first place. “I’m well aware of his virtues,” she replied with a sigh. Well, at least she had known them all those years ago. She hadn’t seen him in the intervening years, at least not up close. Nor had she exchanged any correspondence with him.
“Then consider this. I’ll settle your inheritance on you in the morning. You can do with it as you wish. Thorncastle doesn’t require it to marry you, so you can hide it or give it to him or—”
“Inheritance?” she interrupted. “Now?”
James sighed. “It’s only fair you receive what Lancaster never took,” he reasoned.
“Because you feel guilty,” she accused.
“Yes,” he agreed with a nod, deciding he didn’t want to argue the point. “Besides, I’m already arranging my younger daughter’s dowry, so I can see to yours at the same time,” he reasoned.
Allowing a wan smile, Elise regarded her brother with an appreciative gaze. “Has Daisy already passed that age?” she wondered. Although she probably shouldn’t have even known of his illegitimate children, she had been close to his youngest, Diana, for several years. She was Diana’s godmother, after all. Too old to have been like a daughter to her, Diana was more like the younger sister Elise never had.
“Well past. And from her comments on the topic of marriage, I rather doubt Daisy will ever wed.” He paused a moment. “Diana might, though, although I cannot imagine how she might come to meet an eligible bachelor given she’s teaching spoiled rotten girls at a finishing school all day,” he complained.
Elise grinned as she considered thoughts of her younger niece. “She’s not adverse to the idea of marriage,” she offered carefully. “She just doesn’t want to marry unless she feels affection for the man.”
“Probably because you’ve made your thoughts on the matter quite clear,” James accused lightly.
Giving him a guilty grin, Elise ducked her head a bit. “She has a good head on her shoulders, that one,” she said. “She’s bright, and smart, and is good with numbers. You and Lily did well with both of them.”
James swallowed the sob he felt nearly choke him as tears once again threatened. “I love Helen. I truly do. But there are times I miss Lily so—”
“Of course, you do,” Elise said softly. But not enough to force her to marry you. But then, marriage to a woman known to have been a courtesan wouldn’t have been acceptable. Especially an illegitimate daughter of a baronet. Despite the protection Lily would have had as a duchess, she would have suffered the cut indirect for the rest of her life.
Elise allowed another sigh as her attention returned to the statue of Cupid. “I don’t yet know how I’ll respond to Godfrey’s note,” she commented.
Sighing, James leaned forward and allowed his elbows to rest on his knees. “He loves you, Elise. He always has. He needs an heir. You want children... ” He allowed the sentence to trail off, as if he had run out of reasons she should marry the only man she had ever loved.
“I thought about going to Italy... ”
“You’d hate it. Too hot. Everyone speaks Italian. And those counts are horny bastards,” James stated, a lopsided grin giving away his attempt at humor.
“James Burroughs!” Elise admonished, her shock changing to a grin when she saw how a smile split his face.
“I apologize,” he replied, his seriousness suddenly returning. “Marry him, Elise. Have some babies, and make me an uncle.”
“You already are,” she countered.
“I’ll like your children better than your sisters’,” he replied, annoyance evident in his features.
Elise blinked. “So will I,” she murmured.
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before the beginning strains of a waltz sounded from the ballroom. “I promised my duchess this dance,” James said as he suddenly stood up. “Don’t stay out here all night, Elise, or there will be a note about you in the next issue of The Tattler,” he warned. Then he turned and disappeared on the flags leading back to the ballroom.
The Tattler, Elise thought with a sigh, not bothering to watch her brother’s retreat. What could the gossip rag claim about her other than she had never appeared in the Weatherstone ballroom the entire night?
She may as well have stayed home. But then, if she had, Cupid wouldn’t have made the shot that seemed to help make up her mind regarding a certain marriage proposal.
Damn the little cherub.
Chapter 4
A Daughter Contemplates a Dance
A few minutes later, on the mezzanine above the ballroom
“One, two, three, one, two, three,” Diana Albright murmured as she watched the swirling couples on the ballroom floor below where she stood. Three of her students were keeping up with their partners just fine, their steps sure and their posture perfect. The fourth, not so much, but then that particular girl was the youngest of those in attendance. And she suffered from having partnered with a poor lead. Lord Graham’s youngest son had been born with little in the way of brains and two left feet.
Diana gave a start when she spotted an older couple join the circle of dancers. Father, she realized, her attention going to the man’s partner. His countess.
She had never been formally introduced to Helen Harrington, and rather doubted the day would come when she would have that honor. At least her father seemed happy with the woman. The duchess had born him two children in the three years they had been married.
And she was gazing at her husband as if she adored him.
“They’re not embarrassing you, I hope.”
The voice from her left had Diana stepping away from the balcony’s edge. She turned to find Elise Burroughs regarding her with a grin. “They are not. At least, most of them seem to be doing fine,” Diana replied as she moved to give her aunt a kiss on the cheek. She stepped back to regard Elise with wide eyes. “You look... radiant. As if you should be down there dancing, too,” she murmured.
“And what of you?” Elise countered.
“I don’t have an invitation,” Diana whispered. “The butler let me come up here so I could watch my students.”
Elise frowned at this bit of information. Her niece was dressed in a coral confection of silk and tulle, the gown far more elegant than most in the ballroom below. “Your gown is gorgeous. No one would know—”
“I would know,” Diana countered with a shake of her head. “And I only wore the gown because...” She paused, chiding herself for the bit of whimsy she had felt at decidi
ng to spy on her charges this night. Lord Weatherstone’s balls were always a crush and always the harbinger of how a new Season’s pairings might play out with respect to marriages. “I didn’t wish to stand out.”
Elise arched an elegant eyebrow. “Then you should have worn a grain sack,” she countered with a grin. “Someday, Diana, you will be swept off your feet by a handsome gentleman, and you will be forced to realize that you, too, can be like any of these other women,” she said with a wave of her hand over the colorful circle of couples below. “You deserve nothing less.”
Diana regarded her aunt for a moment, rather wishing her words had merit. “And what about you? Don’t you deserve a happy marriage?”
Elise inhaled sharply, rather surprised her niece would ask such a question. Especially now. Especially when she was considering marriage. Or remarriage, rather. “Perhaps,” she allowed when she noticed how Diana’s attention was directed to one of the couples on the floor below. At her hiss and pained facial expression, Elise followed her gaze and allowed a hiss of her own. “Oh, dear,” she managed between hisses.
“I’m quite sure it’s Mr. Graham and not Lady Theodora who is to blame,” Diana whispered. “She performs flawlessly during dance class at Warwick’s,” she added when she noted how Elise gave her a quelling glance. “She has a voucher from one of the patronesses at Almack’s.”
Not bothering to mention that a voucher wasn’t necessarily a ticket of ability to waltz, Elise merely grinned.
“Who were you off to see?” Diana wondered suddenly, realizing her aunt hadn’t expected to find her at the ball.
The Secrets of a Viscount Page 2
