Reggie scowled. “Unfortunately, I didn’t trust your information and dropped some blunt on the match.”
“A gambler and his money are soon parted,” the captain murmured.
His cousin glared at him. “I am sure you are too much a dull dog to risk anything.”
“Very true,” Richard agreed as he pushed his plate away. “I make it a rule never to bet material goods. One’s life is so much more interesting a stake.”
“Are you saying I’m a coward for not going in the Army?” Reggie snarled.
Richard was startled at the vehemence. Apparently he had hit a nerve with his casual comment. “Not at all. I have heard many things about you, but never that you lacked bravery. There are any number of good reasons for avoiding the military that have nothing to do with courage.”
Mollified, Reggie took a deep gulp of claret. “I wanted to join up,” he confided, “but my dear uncle Wargrave would never permit it. He would pay my debts but never give me enough of the ready to buy a commission. And I didn’t care to enlist as a common soldier.” He stared into his glass, apparently brooding over how his life had gone wrong, then looked up suddenly, his eyes sharpening. “You are mighty fine tonight. Is there some entertainment in the neighborhood? It has been dashed dull around here.”
“There is a ball at Wildehaven for Lord Radford’s fiancée.”
“Ah, yes. The pretty blond chit.”
Richard remained silent, as any discussion of Caroline could rapidly lead to a fight if Reggie started making crude remarks.
Reggie took another drink. “If he had known I was in the neighborhood, Radford would have invited me from common courtesy. After all, we will be neighbors soon.”
“You would know that better than I,” Richard said. “I have never met the man.”
“Devilish high in the instep.” Reggie reached for the bottle and poured another glass as Richard bid him good night and left. By the time another bottle of claret had vanished down his throat, he was feeling belligerent about the ball. Damned bad manners of Radford to ignore him. Why, he was an earl, or almost. Outranked Radford. He would go anyway; Radford wouldn’t have the audacity to throw him out. And it would be something to do in the endless boredom of country life.
Weaving slightly and bellowing for his valet, he went upstairs to change into evening dress.
* * * *
After two hours of greeting guests at the entrance of the ballroom, Caroline felt as if her smile was chiseled in granite. She looked her best in a creamy silk dress with embroidered bands of forget-me-nots exactly matching her eyes. Betsy had contrived a simple tiara of tiny cream-colored roses for her hair, and Jason had sent a double strand of lustrous, perfectly matched pearls for her to wear. It was a generous gift, accompanied by a charming note, and it made her slightly sick.
Her nerves were in an appalling state and she had scarcely touched the sumptuous dinner preceding the ball. In the rush of greeting people, she had put aside the knowledge that she must confront her father this evening, but her hands were cold and her stomach queasy. Given a choice, she would have fled down the marble steps of Wildehaven with never a backward glance.
Instead, Jason and Lady Edgeware stood beside her and introduced the endless stream of relations and neighbors. All knew of the engagement but she would not be officially presented to the neighborhood until after supper. Jason looked wonderfully handsome, having given Wills, his long-suffering valet, free rein. That worthy was continually frustrated by his master’s impatience; Radford frequently left his servant behind when he traveled, dressed himself in the early morning when any real man of fashion was still abed, and generally did not permit Wills full exercise of his sartorial genius.
Tonight, however, he was immaculately turned out in formal black evening dress, his cravat tied in an elaborate style of his own invention, the glint of a ruby at his throat. The Diabolical Baron to the life, Caroline thought. Virility radiated from him, plus that quality of controlled force that had so frightened her in the beginning. The thought that she might have to confront him as well as her father made her stomach give another lurch.
They were ready to retire to the ballroom when suddenly Richard was crossing the hall toward her. The quiet elegance of his evening dress announced to the knowledgeable that he joined other soldiers in favoring the tailor Scott. His jacket was not completely a la mode, since it could undoubtedly be put on without benefit of a valet, but there was no denying that the cut flattered his broad shoulders and compact strength. She looked at him, her soul in her eyes. He bowed and gave her a warm, private smile that melted her bones. “You look like Titania indeed,” he said softly as he glanced at the roses in her hair. “Or Botticelli’s Spring.”
She smiled her acknowledgment of the compliment, then said calmly, “It is good to see you, Captain Dai-ton. May I present Lady Edgeware and Lord Radford?”
Richard bowed to her ladyship, then shook hands with Jason. The two men looked at each other measuringly, the younger curious about Caroline’s fiancé, the older with a vague feeling of recognition. Jason said, “I believe Caroline said you were staying at Wargrave Park. What do you think of the place?”
“Impressive but neglected.”
“An accurate assessment. The place has not been properly managed in many years. I hope Reggie Davenport will get a decent agent or sell it to me when he inherits. It is criminal for good land and people to be mistreated as Wargrave Park has been.”
“Davenport has been staying there for the last few weeks,” Richard said in a carefully neutral tone.
Jason raised one eyebrow. “Hiding from some mischief in London, no doubt.”
“You know each other of old?” Richard grinned at how quickly Radford had analyzed his cousin’s unaccustomed presence in the country.
“Alas, yes. We have always acted on each other as fire and tinder.”
“Which is which?” Richard asked with interest.
Jason smiled and decided he liked the fellow. “We always took turns—whoever speaks first is the fire; the listener goes up like tinder. Since my duties at the door are done, let me introduce you to some of the other guests. I gather Caroline and Mrs. Sterling are your only acquaintance locally?”
Jason nodded to Caroline before leading Richard into the ballroom. She watched them go, not knowing whether to be glad or alarmed that they had taken to each other. Her thoughts were interrupted by Lady Edgeware. The old lady had been observing the exchange with an inscrutable gaze, but she said merely, “Come along, child. Your dance card is full and it is time to reward all those gentlemen who have been waiting so patiently.”
After several country dances, Jason claimed his fiancée for a waltz. The dance was more relaxed than their first one at Almack’s, but there was hardly more conversation than on that occasion.
Caroline’s eyes searched the crowd for her father, finally locating him in the corner with a group of older men. He looked likely to stay there for a few minutes, so she turned her attention to the waltz, letting the lilt of it relax her. Jason also seemed content to dance in silence; it struck her forcibly that while they were now more comfortable together, they really had nothing to talk about. Their interests struck no sparks with each other.
As the dance neared its end, she looked across the room and saw Richard. He had been talking with the Chandlers and someone she vaguely recollected as Lord Rankin, but he looked up as if feeling her regard. Their eyes locked across the width of the room, azure blue to calm hazel.
She suddenly remembered what Gina had said about Gideon: It’s like his arms are around me even when he is across the room. She could feel warmth and strength flowing into her, preparing her for the coming interview. The music stopped and she looked up at Jason, saying, “I must talk to my father now.”
Without knowing quite why, she added, “Why don’t you dance with Aunt Jessica? She has been a little sad lately.” Then she turned and threaded her way through the crowd without waiting for his respons
e.
Jason watched her weave toward her father. Well, why not dance with Jessica? Even the highest stickler could hardly object to his dancing with a guest. The musicians had not yet struck up the next tune, so he quickly requested another waltz and went in search of Jessica. She was magnificent tonight in a silk gown of shimmering russet, her eyes perhaps too bright, her conversation mesmerizing her crowd of admirers. A young naval officer on leave was about to lead her out when Jason smoothly interposed, “I claim a host’s right.” Without giving her time to object, he carried her off.
If dancing with Caroline was like dancing with a cloud, dancing with Jessica was unmistakably dancing with a woman. They did not speak at first, both racked by the mixed pain and pleasure of their nearness. The dance was half done when she said, “I will be leaving tomorrow for Wiltshire.”
“Must you go so soon?”
She met his eyes for the first time. “You know I must.”
He was silent, loath to admit the wisdom of her action. He finally said, “Will I ever see you again?”
“I will come for the wedding. It would seem strange if I missed it.”
“And after that?”
“I will not come again. I hope Caroline will visit me sometimes.” Her voice cracked suddenly. “I could not bear to lose you both.”
They continued to turn and glide, the moments running away like the sands of an hourglass. He said finally, “I will send you to the Sterlings in one of my carriages.”
“That isn’t necessary. The Letchworths said—”
“You will let me do this one last thing for you.” His voice brooked no opposition, nor did she wish to pursue the point. Then the music ended, and they were separate again.
Chapter 14
Caroline easily detached her father from his cronies. He had been drinking and was in high gig, basking in the knowledge that he would soon be connected with the wealth around him. She carried him off to the small chamber by the ballroom where her pianoforte had been placed.
Prompted by a feeling of unease, her stepmother followed them in, firmly closing the door behind. She had never known her stepdaughter to voluntarily seek out her father; it could mean trouble.
Caroline was glad to see Lady Hanscombe; Louisa might not be an ally but she was fair-minded and might aid her stepdaughter’s cause. Standing by the piano, Caroline rested one hand on the polished surface as if to draw courage from it. As she tried and failed to find the words she needed, her father said jovially, “You’ve done well for yourself, puss. There is not a finer gentleman in England than your future husband. Nor a more generous one,” he added. The money that had already changed hands had cleared Sir Alfred’s major debts, but the additional settlement money coming after the marriage would give him enough to be able to speculate again.
Caroline’s voice was trembling and she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Papa, how serious is the money problem?”
His jolliness started to slide away, replaced by the first ugly signs of temper. “That’s none of your concern. After you’ve married him, there will be no problems at all.”
“I don’t want to marry him.”
“I’ll have none of that missishness!” He made an attempt to be reasonable. His voice coaxing, he said, “It is natural for girls to be a mite skittish about marriage, but these vapors will pass soon enough.”
Taking a deep breath, she said, “I am not the least vaporish. I want to marry someone else.”
There was a sharp gasp from Lady Hanscombe. Sir Alfred stared at his daughter, too astonished even for anger. “What maggot is in your brain? Radford is the only man who has ever shown the least interest in you, and damned if I know why he has. You’ll marry him and be grateful you’re not left on the shelf.”
She raised her head proudly. “Strange as it may seem to you, someone else is in love with me. I love him, and will marry him unless you can convince me that it is absolutely essential to the family that I wed Lord Radford.”
Since her father seemed to have been rendered temporarily speechless, she added, “I have some money and will do what I can to help you establish my younger brothers and sisters.”
“I’ll forbid your sister’s marriage to Fallsworthy!”
She shook her head. “I don’t think you can. The settlements have been signed, the engagement publically announced. The Fallsworthy family love Gina and will support her. If you attempt to interfere, I think Gideon will get a special license and marry her on the spot.”
Sir Alfred was in shock at the sight of his most biddable child countering him point by point. Grasping at a straw, he asked, “Who is it you want to marry? That fop Fitzwilliam? If he really wants you, I suppose it would be acceptable.” It was well known that the Honorable George was heir to a viscountcy and had nearly as much money as his friend. And as a bonus, he would be a good deal more malleable than the uncomfortably acute Lord Radford.
“It is not George Fitzwilliam. It is no one you know.”
His dreams of a rich marriage evaporating, he asked feebly, “Who, then?”
“His name is Richard Dalton. He was a captain in the Ninety-fifth Rifles. He has sold his commission and has been taking inventory at Wargrave Park.”
“You would throw away Radford for a penniless ex-soldier?”
“He is not penniless. He thinks he can get a small estate on the south coast.”
He shook his head, unable to believe his daughter compared a country squire’s manor with the vast Kincaid properties.
“I’ll bandy no more words with you. You’ll many Radford and that is the end of it.”
“No.”
“What did you say?”
She lifted her chin defiantly. “I said no!”
The tension in the air was nearly tangible as the stocky man glared at the slim young woman, his hands unconsciously clenching into fists. Lively music from the ballroom sounded with grotesque cheerfulness. Lady Hanscombe, silent till now, spoke in an attempt to defuse the situation.
“She is of age and we cannot stop her if she is determined, Alfred. And since that trading ship of yours made it back to London, our finances are not uncomfortable. We should investigate the young man to see he is what he claims, but I talked with him earlier this evening and he is pleasant enough. While it is not a great match, there would be no disgrace in it.”
Sir Alfred shifted his angry glare to his wife. When he looked back at Caroline, he found her staring at him with huge accusing blue eyes.
“You mean ... you have had the money and made no move to release me? After I had begged you to spare me from a marriage I didn’t want? Have you never cared, even a little, about what happens to me?”
She was crying, raw pain in her voice. Over the years she had neither expected nor received much from her father, but to find his selfishness so great he would consign her to emotional desolation was too much to bear. That Jason had turned out to be a good man was beside the point—the pain was in knowing her father would have sold her to a malignant troll had the price been right.
Unable to refute the censure in her eyes and voice, he took two quick steps toward his daughter and grabbed her by the shoulders. Shaking her violently, he shouted in her face, “If you don’t marry him, I will never be rich! You will do as I bid you!”
Tears coursing down her face, she still found the voice to whisper, “No!”
The precarious hold on his temper snapped. Drawing back his right arm, he slapped her across the face with the full strength of his thick shoulders. The violence of the blow spun her away from his grip and sent her slight body crashing to the floor.
She lay motionless by the piano while her stepmother knelt at her side and Sir Alfred’s horrified rasps of breath filled the room. The chit had provoked him, but he shouldn’t have hit her. Fragile as she was, being knocked against the heavy mahogany instrument might have hurt her badly, even killed her. And if killing his own child was not dreadful enough, there were two men in this house who wanted to marry her, and
either one might feel a need for vengeance.
Caroline shifted slightly and looked at Louisa with unfocused eyes. “Mama ... ?”
Lady Hanscombe supported her as she struggled to a sitting position. Her father’s gold signet ring had made a flaring welt on her cheekbone and the whole left side of her face showed red and angry. There would be heavy bruising soon; now the scent of crushed roses from her flowery headdress lent an incongruously sweet scent to the air.
Concern in her voice, Louisa asked, “How do you feel, child?”
Caroline moved her head slowly from side to side, then said, “I am all right, Mama. Please help me up.” Her father’s blow had destroyed what love and duty she had always tried to give him. In the wake of their passing she felt a freedom and power entirely new to her.
When she was upright, she looked her father directly in the eye. “It is no use, Papa. You can hurt me, but you can no longer command me.” He made a confused motion with his hand while she continued in the same small clear voice, “They say that love casts out fear. Because I love and am loved now, I am not afraid of you anymore, and you can never compel me again.”
He stared at her, then turned abruptly and left the room, unable to face his wife and daughter. As the door banged behind him, Lady Hanscombe pressed her gently to the piano bench and examined the welt on Caroline’s face. “This will not scar, but you won’t be fit for public view very soon. I will help you to your room, then tell Lady Edgeware you were taken ill and must miss the rest of the ball.”
“No, Mama. I want you to ask Lord Radford to come to me here. The sooner I break this engagement, the better for all us. And then”—her face softened—”I must see Richard.”
“Are you sure, Caroline? You must be badly shaken. There will be time enough tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “No, it must be done now. It is bad enough I am jilting Jason. I would at least spare him the humiliation of having personally announced the marriage to all his friends and relatives.”
The Diabolical Baron Page 22