by Regina Darcy
“The questions is - are you brave enough to match my resolve?”
“Oh, not a doubt there, Summersby.”
Kent considered. The duchy was a wealthy one and its duke a shrewd manager. When Summersby lost the bet, as he certainly would, Kent knew that he’d have accomplished a rare feat—he’d have acquired a staggering sum of money from a man who was not known for recklessness.
Kent smiled.
“You’ve got a wager.”
THREE
Georgette paced the drawing room. She had expected to hear from Valerie long before now. Two months had already passed since her friend had left with the promise that she would find out all that she could regarding the character and intentions of the Viscount of Lathan. During the weeks, Georgette had continued to attend to her mother’s needs.
With her father, she was polite, but distant, presenting an immutable wall of reserve which lacked nothing in filial obedience, and offered nothing in the way of daughterly affection. Frustrated by his daughter’s response to what the Earl regarded as a justified means of assuring that she would not sacrifice her youth to her mother’s sickbed, the Earl spent less and less time at home. That suited Georgette well enough. As her father had no intention of changing the wedding date or the groom, Georgette preferred that he absent himself from home as much as possible.
As she took refuge in the drawing-room, seeking a moment of solitude from all that plagued her, Georgette yet again wondered when Valerie would come calling.
She had instructed the staff to inform her immediately when she arrived, but so far April had brought forth only disappointment. Easter had come and gone, with no word from her friend.
When her father sent dressmakers and seamstresses to the house in order to provide her with a stylish wardrobe, Georgette was docile but devoid of interest. The women who came found her beautiful, her slender form easy to dress, but they were disheartened by her complete lack of involvement in the selection of styles.
She did not care what fabrics they suggested; she told them to choose whichever one best suited their design. Colour? Again, she was unmoved and their flattery, that Mademoiselle, with her lovely complexion, enchanting green eyes, and beautiful dark hair was able to wear any style to perfection, fell upon deaf ears.
She did not care.
She had spent too many years apart from London society to care now what fashions were in vogue.
She was not interested in attracting a husband; she was desperately seeking a way out of a marriage that she did not want.
But her father was intractable and Georgette was not independent. Therein lay the dilemma.
“My lady,” the butler opened the door to the morning-room, “Miss Duncan is here.”
“Send her in!”
When Valerie Duncan entered, looking sleek and contented, Georgette raced over to her.
“Valerie, I have been longing to see you! Please, sit down, and tell me what you have learned.”
“It has been a most enlightening time,” Valerie said. “I have met the Viscount!”
“Met him? I thought you only intended to find out about him,” Georgette exclaimed with a frown.
“Indeed, but I wanted to find out for myself so that I would be able to relay to you my true impressions,” Valerie said soothingly. “Might I have some refreshment? I have come here straight from . . . straight from the Viscount’s residence.”
“Of course.”
Georgette rang for the maid and instructed her to bring in tea and cakes. She did not notice, as she did so, that her friend’s features bore a look of complacent disdain.
How dowdy Georgette looked, Valerie thought. The Viscount liked women who were stylish, enticing, and . . . Valerie’s lips curved in a satisfied smile . . . permissive.
She had found the Viscount to be most promising. The two had recognised a mutual attraction which began upon introductions and proceeded to the bedroom with barely a pause.
The Viscount was licentious, extravagant, profligate and amoral. Valerie found him an ideal partner and it had not taken long before she and her lover had managed to come to an agreement which would procure the inheritance of the inconvenient but necessary bride. Then, after the inheritance was safely in the hands of her husband, the newlywed Viscountess would meet with an unfortunate accident at the Lathan country estate, far from the curious eyes of any who might wonder why a woman who was an excellent rider should have come to her end from a fall from a horse.
The details, as Lathan had admitted during one of their amorous exploits in his bedroom, remained to be organised. What mattered now was that Valerie would return to Georgette and report that he was honourable, well regarded, financially secure—which, owing to that convenient loan he had procured from the Duchess of Summersby and had no intention of repaying, he was, at least for the interim—an accomplished and admirable gentleman.
After the funeral, the grieving widower would go to the Continent to salve his broken heart. There, by prior arrangement, Valerie would meet him and they would marry, to return to England at a suitable time when propriety—not that either gave a hang for propriety, but one’s position in society must be safeguarded, particularly Valerie’s, as she would be regarded as an upstart—permitted.
It was a capital plan, Valerie thought. It would provide her with the status that she had always longed for. No more would she be the commoner, the friend who lacked standing in society. Georgette would have had an untimely demise and Valerie would have a title and the Viscount for a husband.
“Now,” Georgette said after the maid had been dispatched, “I hope that your errand has been successful.”
“Oh, yes. I thank you for your generosity in providing for my expenses while I was away. I regret that I was obliged to ask for funds, but as you know, my family does not move in the exalted circles of the peerage.”
Valerie arranged her features so that she seemed as if she were humble and eager to please. She was neither, nor had she ever been, but Georgette was too preoccupied to notice the avaricious gleam in her friend’s eyes or the calculating demeanour which accompanied her words. Nor did she notice, being so long out of fashion, that Valerie was garbed in an elegant gown and pelisse which would have excited the admiration of any lady of the ton.
“Dear Georgette—I hope I am not being presumptuous in continuing to refer to you, as we did when we were in school together, by your given name,” Valerie said with the appearance of trepidation, “—the Viscount is everything you could wish for in a husband. Your father has chosen well.”
That the Earl had been so readily duped by Lathan’s façade of respectability and financial means could only be credited, Valerie assumed, to his eagerness to find a titled groom for his daughter who was no longer regarded as young in the eyes of Polite Society.
“He is well respected in his county,” Valerie went on. “The villagers regard him with the utmost regard.”
They had little choice, Valerie thought. The Gibbs were an amorous clan and any village with a comely daughter strove to keep his child out of sight, lest she sacrifice her virtue to the Gibbs lust.
“Truly?” Georgette repeated; hope starting to illuminate her gaze. It hardly seemed possible that the Earl would have chosen with such painstaking attention the sort of man that Georgette, who did not long for social advancement, would have sought had she been of a mind to marry.
She was a woman of simple tastes.
Had Father truly found someone who revered his integrity rather than his acquisitions, and who upheld time-honoured traditions instead of modern trends?
“Truly,” Valerie said with a countenance so demure that, as she would write to the Viscount later that night, she was sure there must be a halo forming over her head.
“He is a model of a man. Such sincerity, such character . . . his every thought is for the well-being of others. He is mindful of the needs of the villagers and pays heed even to the families of his tenants.”
There was a par
ticularly vivacious daughter of one of the farmers who had cast a speculative eye upon the Viscount, Valerie knew. It was all very well if the Viscount chose to amuse himself with the local wenches while she was away, but once they were married, after Georgette was disposed of and the Viscount was in possession of her wealth, there would be no more amorous conquests.
She would keep her future husband on a short leash.
However, Valerie smiled as she contemplated the future, she would see that he did not lack for marital entertainment in the bedroom.
“I am relieved,” Georgette confessed. “I have been dreading . . .”
“There is nothing at all to dread. You must tell your father that you are eager to meet your future husband and that you trust your father’s judgment implicitly. You must do this soon; the Viscount is eager to marry. He is nine-and-twenty and he says that he wishes to wed before he turns thirty. He is eager to begin a family.”
Georgette blushed. “I cannot tell my father that.”
“No, of course not. Your father must not know that you doubted his judgment and sent me to ascertain the validity of this match. You must be dutiful. Your father will be reassured that you are willing to submit to his wishes and he will provide you with a suitable wedding and dowry.”
“I don’t suppose that the Viscount, if he is a man of means, will be particularly concerned about a dowry?”
“Of course not, but I gathered that the Viscount is intent upon his future wife having her own financial independence. He does not wish her to feel that, in leaving her home, she is reduced to dependence upon her husband.”
“That’s very modern of him,” Georgette remarked.
“Yes, isn’t it?” Valerie responded, fairly purring as she spoke.
Later that day, the Earl was relieved when Georgette approached him to say that she was finally willing and ready to meet the gentleman to whom she was to be wed.
She displayed no eagerness to marry, indeed, she felt none. But she was reassured, at least, by Valerie’s endorsement of the Viscount as a man who could be counted on to exhibit the finest characteristics of a gentleman. Such a man, she was sure, would understand her wish to live near her family so that she could continue to nurse her mother.
It was, therefore, with tremendous surprise that Georgette found herself looking forward with anticipation to meeting with the Viscount, who’d accepted the Earl’s dinner invitation and arrived promptly at eight o’clock the very next day.
Georgette, who had surrendered to her father’s insistence that she buy new frocks, was wearing a light green muslin gown which particularly suited the shade of her eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back in a thick chignon and held in place with pearl combs that matched the pearl earrings dangling from her ears.
She was glad that she had followed her father’s order to update her wardrobe when the Viscount arrived.
He was dressed soberly, in a manner which was sure to elicit her father’s approval, but it was apparent even to someone as removed from society as Georgette that the cut of his coat and the fit of his trousers were at the very height of men’s fashions.
He bowed low over her hand when she was introduced to him, his dark eyes asking for permission. She smiled her affirmation. His lips brushed the back of her hand and Georgette felt an unexpected thrill at the contact.
“My lord,” the Viscount said, “I thank you for inviting me to your home and, even more, I thank you for allowing me to pay court to this young spectacular creature.”
The Earl, who did not regard his daughter as young any more, gave the Viscount a searching glance.
“Yes . . . please sit down so that we may do justice to the cook’s efforts. We seldom entertain.”
The Viscount was properly sympathetic to the cause of the Davies family’s lack of entertainment.
“The Countess, I understand, is unable, owing to ill health, to leave her chambers,” he said tactfully.
“Yes. Your family?”
“I live in London. My family lives in the country.”
Georgette felt hopeful. Her father spent most of his time in London and of course she did as well. It seemed as though the Viscount would be amenable to continuing this habit.
As the dinner progressed, her opinion of the Viscount’s amiability, courtesy, and honour increased. He was everything that Valerie had told her.
He had a delightful wit, but reverence as well, attending to her father’s discourse with the respect of a younger man for an older one. He took care to include them both when he was expanding on a story and he had a delightful repertoire of stories which made gentle fun of the foibles of the human species, not excluding himself. As the evening was winding down and it would soon be time for him to take his leave, the Viscount declared that he had a request.
“I know that I ought to pay court to you, Lady Georgette, in the accepted manner. But your father has indicated that he is not averse to a wedding that will take place in the springtime and, having met you, I am all the more impatient to celebrate the season with matrimony. How do you feel about such impatience as mine?”
Abashed, Georgette looked to her father.
“I am content with a spring wedding,” the Earl said. “In fact, it would please me if the wedding could take place as soon as the banns have been read and the engagement announced.”
“I would ask one favour, then,” the Viscount replied. “Would you permit me to host a ball for the announcement of our engagement? I should very much like to present the future Viscountess to my friends and those others of my acquaintance who will share in my happiness.”
“I . . . certainly, if my daughter is willing,” said the Earl, knowing that Georgette was of a shy nature and not at all at ease in the unfamiliar realm of a ballroom.
Georgette did not want to admit to her trepidation lest the Viscount think her dull.
“We live very privately,” she interjected instead. “Our guest list would be very small.”
The Viscount flashed a brilliant smile.
“Lady Georgette,” he said earnestly, “my friends shall be your friends and your friends shall be my friends and we shall enjoy them together. As we shall be living in London, so that you may remain close to your parents, we shall have many opportunities to spend time with friends. May I say how much I admire you for your dedication to your mother, —my Lady? I should not for the world seek to separate you from her. I must ask that we return to my country home after the wedding for a brief time, so that my mother will have the opportunity to meet you and welcome her new daughter. After that, we shall return to London, where we will reside.”
That seemed fair, Georgette thought. He was making every effort to respect her need to attend to her mother, and she could find no fault in his wish to return to his family’s home so that his mother could meet her. That was proper and an excellent indication of his character. Perhaps Father was right and this arranged marriage would be the perfect match.
A happy marriage to a handsome man who was sensitive to her affection for her mother; she could not have asked for more.
FOUR
“Updike!”
There was no one in his study but the duke himself. Nonetheless, within moments, the door opened and Jones, his valet entered, attentive, as he always was, to his master’s beck and call. Jones was a faithful servant and the Duke was, if somewhat imperious, a fair and generous employer.
“Your Grace,” he said respectfully. “Did you call for Mr Updike?”
“I did. Have you seen this?”
James thrust a newspaper in front of his valet, who looked startled.
“No, Your Grace, I have not. Have the French invaded?”
“No, the French have not invaded!” James roared. “But a betrothal has been announced between Viscount Lathan and an heiress.”
“I see . . . ” replied Jones, who plainly did not.
“He has borrowed an obscene amount of money from my mother so that he can pass himself off as well off in order to
snare an heiress. Updike, on my behalf, sent a letter to him regarding the debt and the need for immediate payment. The letter, Jones, has not been answered.”
“I see . . . ” Jones replied, seeing the matter very plainly now.
“Yes, it’s all quite clear now. But he shan’t marry her, you know.” James rose from his chair and shouted for his steward.
“Updike!”
“Your Grace,” Jones interjected hesitantly, “how will you prevent the Viscount from marrying this woman?”
“I shall abduct her on the way to the church, of course.”
Jones paled.
Not for the first time, he wondered if perhaps he was of too timid a nature to be a valet to someone as bold-hearted as the Duke of Summersby.
“Your Grace, I don’t believe that would be─”
“Updike!”
“Will you fetch the steward, Jones, I cannot think where he’s gotten off to.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” Jones replied, relieved to be dismissed and thus freed of the responsibility of trying to persuade his master that this scheme of his was bound not to end well.
***
The day of the wedding dawned with that London rarity, a brilliant blue sky and sunshine. James looked out the window with a sense of purpose. Perfect. The fates themselves smiled upon his plan, he thought as he rose from his bed and waited for Jones to dress him.
“It’s all set, Jones,” he announced. “The carriage driver was quite willing to be bribed. Astonishing how easy it was, and how readily he consented to ply his trade outside of London for the foreseeable future. It’s a pity that carriage drivers are so poorly paid, really.
“I believe I did him a financial service. In return, I have his carriage, which shall be returned to the livery stable from which it was rented. It shall be returned with no one the wiser that it was ever borrowed for another purpose other than that for which it was originally hired. I have, of necessity, kept his attire, as you can see,” James said, pointing to the coat, trousers and hat which awaited him.
