A Marriage Made in Mayfair

by Gill, Tamara

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  A Marriage Made in Mayfair

  Copyright © 2012 by Tamara Gill

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-319-8

  Cover art by LFD Designs

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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  A Marriage Made in Mayfair

  By

  Tamara Gill

  ~Dedication~

  For the hero in my life, Brad

  My little rakes in the making, Lord Samuel and Lord Harrison

  and my heroine for all time, Lady Lily

  I love you.

  And to my wonderful critique partner and friend

  Joanna Lloyd

  Thank you.

  Chapter One

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Suzanna?” asked Henry, as he watched her preparations from the doorway.

  “Of course. I’m sure. Lord Danning may have frightened me off last season, but he’ll not do it again.” She shifted her head away from her brother as her French maid Celeste pinned a curl to dangle alluringly over her ear.

  Henry pushed himself away from the doorframe and strolled over to where she sat in front of her dressing table. He held out his hand and pulled Suzanna to her feet, twirling her slowly as he admired her. “Well, you’ll certainly turn heads at the ball. Celeste has worked miracles. I hardly recognize my clumsy, unfashionable little sister.”

  Suzanna glanced at her reflection—nothing about this sophisticated woman staring back at her resembled the humiliated, heartbroken debutante who ran, not only from a ballroom, but also from the country. Gone were the orange locks that had hung with no life about her shoulders and the eyebrows that were forever in need of plucking. Even the little mole above her lip looked delicate and not at all unattractive, as some matrons had once pointed out.

  Oh yes, she would draw attention tonight, but if truth be told, there was only one head she really wanted to turn.

  “You like this new look, Mademoiselle March?” asked Celeste.

  Her eyes sparkled with expectation. “I do.” She laughed. “Oh, Celeste, thank you so very much. You have outdone yourself.”

  And Royce Durnham, Viscount Danning, could grovel at her silk slippers for all she cared. A grin quirked her lips over the thought of seeing one of London’s most powerful men clasping her skirts, tears welling in his eyes begging for forgiveness. It would only serve him right, especially after the atrocious set-down bestowed on her last year at her coming out.

  Celeste clucked in admonishment. “My profession is so much easier when one has so beautiful a canvas with which to work. I only make improvement with what is before me.”

  “Too true,” Henry stated, kissing his sister’s cheek.

  Suzanna laughed. Perhaps they were right. For it was she who stared back with green eyes so large they seemed to pale the freckles across her nose to insignificance. “I can only hope my deportment has also improved. I was such a calamity last season.”

  “Was your first season, oui?”

  “Yes.” Suzanna walked over to the window and looked out onto the grounds of her father’s London townhouse. “Father having made his money in trade ensured my lack of popularity. I was certainly not fit for some of the mamas of the ton.” She shrugged away the stinging memory of their rejection. The worst had come from the lofty Lord Danning, a rich, powerful aristocrat, tall with an athletic frame that bespoke of hours in the saddle. He was a gentleman who always dressed in immaculate attire that fitted his body like a glove, but without the airs of a dandy.

  Even the memory of a strong jaw and dark-blue eyes made her belly clench with longing. He was the embodiment of everything one looked for in a husband—until he opened his mouth and spoke.

  “Your father was knighted, mademoiselle. Surely, the English aristocracy would not slight your family’s humble beginnings. Everyone must start somewhere. No?”

  “You are right, Celeste, yet perhaps if it had been a more distant relation than my father who made our fortune, the ton may have been more favourable toward me. No matter my obscene dowry, they did not welcome me as warmly as some of the other girls.”

  Henry growled his disapproval. “I’ll meet you downstairs, Suzanna, before my temper is unleashed on the ton’s ideals. Aunt Agnes will be down soon to accompany us, so do not delay.” He marched from the room.

  “I’ll be down shortly.” Suzanna sat at her desk and picked up her quill, idly rolling it between her fingers. She was glad she had thought to write to Victoria. Her dearest and best friend would ensure she arrived tonight at the Danning’s ball in the company of friends.

  “I’ll wear the light green silk tonight, Celeste,” she said, placing the quill onto the desk. “And Mary,” she said to her second maid who fluttered about, tidying the room. “Could you bring my supper up to my bedchamber straightaway? I don’t have much time to get ready.”

  Her maid curtsied and departed. Celeste pulled her gown from the armoire. “There is a small wrinkle, mademoiselle. I will take it downstairs and quickly press it. Your hair and lips, I will repair when you have finished the supper. Oui?”

  Suzanna smiled. “Thank you. I must admit to being a little excited about going. It has been months since I was in London, and the ball is supposed to be the event of the season.”

  “And you, mademoiselle, will be the most beautiful of all!”

  Suzanna chuckled as the door closed behind her servant. The most beautiful; well, perhaps this once. Maybe if she acted with all the decorum and manners hammered into her over the last few months, a man might magically fall at her feet with an offer of marriage. At one and twenty, marriage was certainly what one ought to think on. Just not with Lord Danning. Not any more, at least.

  Hateful cad.

  Chapter Two

  “Lord Danning, allow me to explain once more. The cost of running your thoroughbred breeding programme, the living expenses on your estates here in England and Italy, along with your excessive lifestyle, are leaving you very short on funds.

  “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you such unwelcome news, but the extreme way of life you and your brother—whom you fund—live, has finally taken a toll. You have three months at most to settle the debts of your
family, or I’m afraid you are facing debtors’ prison.”

  Royce swore and slumped back in his chair. He glanced up at the harsh, no-nonsense visage of his solicitor, Mr. Andrews, and cringed. He had expected this meeting would not be to his liking. But such news as his ruination was not quite what he’d imagined.

  “Can I not sell off more of my estate?”

  “What remains of the property is entailed for future generations. You have already sold off what you could. Furnishings, material objects will only buy you weeks at the most. Of course, any family pieces must remain with the estate.” Mr. Andrews paused. “Perhaps you could sell off the hunters and some equipages, my lord? Or the property in Rome?”

  Royce halted the drumming of his fingers against the table. “You mock me, sir? Broke I may be, but I’m still a lord with friends in high places. These same friends who would be willing to cease using your services should I tell them you have lost your senses. Sell off my carriages and horseflesh. Whoever heard of such a preposterous idea?”

  “Apologies, my lord. But again, I must speak frankly. As your financial counsellor, I must advise closing down the London home, or better yet, renting it out for the season and returning to your country estate.”

  “What?” Royce asked, his voice as hard as steel.

  “For months, my lord, I cautioned you, warned you this would occur, and yet you ignored me. You must rein in the excessive expenditures your family can no longer afford. Your name is an asset in the ton; use it, and procure a rich wife. My apologies for speaking out of turn.”

  “You think you’re the only one who is displeased? I’m a Danning, proud of my lineage, and the blood of the great men that flows through my veins. A family line handed down unblemished from father to son. And now, I, the current viscount, protector of my family, could lose it all.”

  Royce stood and strode over to the decanter of brandy. His hands shook as he poured the fiery liquid. The burning sting of the drink warmed his belly, yet his body remained cold.

  “What do I do?” The life he lived could not be over. To lose one’s station in life was beyond imagining. He could not be...poor! The thought of debtor’s prison, where lice and fleas were as common as a cell mate, sent a shiver of revulsion down his spine.

  “Marry an heiress. And be quick about it, mind.”

  Royce placed his second glass of brandy upon the sideboard and frowned. “I had not thought of such a possibility.” His solicitor threw him a skeptical look. “Well, of course I’ve thought of marriage, just not marriage to a wealthy woman. We Dannings have always been comfortable with our financial position; marrying for money has never been a priority for me.” Royce paused in thought. “Certainly it would allow the family to continue to live on as before.” His solicitor made a choking sound, his plump chin meeting his chest in disapproval. “You wish to say something further, Mr. Andrews.”

  “Your family cannot continue spending, my lord. The income you procure from your estate is not enough to cover your expenditures with your horses, let alone season after season of spending as if money is no object. Your investment income from the East India Company has yet to arrive and may not for many months. You make no money, my lord. Certainly not enough to keep you in the current lifestyle you lead. Your brother especially cannot continue with his life as it is now. He exceeds his monthly income tenfold, which you pay whenever a debtor knocks on your door.”

  Mr. Andrews cleared his throat and met his gaze squarely. “If you wish to secure the well-being of your future children, limitations must be put in place and adhered to.”

  Royce bowed his head. The old solicitor was right. His brother would have to be brought to heel, and along with it his own expenditures. “Right, then. I’m sure I can bring order to the family’s troubles...and my brother,” he said, as a plan started to form. “Well, I’d best be preparing for the ball.”

  “A ball, my lord? Excuse me for speaking out again, but you cannot possibly afford to throw a ball. If I may make another suggestion—best you procure an Almack’s voucher, and make an appearance at the patroness’s expense,” Mr. Andrews said, bending down to place his papers into his leather carry bag.

  “Mr. Andrews, you are well aware I throw the ball of the season every year. One no one would miss. Why, have you not noticed my staff bustling about, busy with the preparations?” Royce strode toward the door. “I’m sure, though my new financial situation is not yet known, there will be many a young filly entering my door, eager to marry a viscount. I shall simply favour only those of sufficient wealth.”

  “Sounds like a marriage made in heaven, my lord.”

  “No,” Royce said. “A marriage made in Mayfair.”

  With a curt nod, his solicitor slapped on his hat, tapped the top, and left.

  Royce leaped up the stairs and sauntered toward his living quarters. The old codger had finally proved worthy. The idea of courting an heiress was just what he needed. Perhaps his brother would follow suit and marry one as well. Then at least George wouldn’t be pulling on his coat tails every week for more coin.

  The thought of never being plump in the pocket again sent a shiver of revulsion down his spine. All the Dannings before him, generations of wealthy English lords, would rise up from their graves in protest should he fail to marry well and lose his estate.

  Well, he wouldn’t allow such a thing.

  He would find a woman, marry her, and ensure that his family’s future was secure.

  Royce pulled at his cravat and rang for his valet, his thoughts absorbed with the guests due to arrive at his home for the ball tonight. Those of the highest peerage with money enough to please the monarchy would attend. Surely a wife could be found amongst the pretty women who will undoubtedly fall at his feet.

  Begging to be his countess and wife.

  Chapter Three

  Suzanna nodded her thanks as she passed a flute of champagne to her friend. The ball was a crush, full to the brim with the ton’s highest patrons, many of whom looked down their noses at the young heiress.

  “It’s extremely warm in here tonight,” Victoria said, fanning herself with a silk fan that matched her dress. “I believe I may have to walk the terrace soon, or I’m certain I may faint.”

  “Do you intend to walk out there alone?” Suzanna laughed at the crimson blush that stole over her friend’s cheeks.

  “No, I’ll have you by my side.” She gestured toward the card room door not far from where they stood. “I see Viscount Danning is extremely dashing this eve. Never have I seen such a fine piece of masculinity within the ton, if I may say so.”

  Suzanna gazed over at the man she had followed like a ninny hammer last season. She threw him a baleful glare she hoped pricked his senses and hurt every fibre of his being. Not that he was looking her way, of course. Seemed nothing had changed in the year she’d been away. Being from trade, as she was deemed, wasn’t of course worth admiring. “Yes.” Suzanna took a sip of her drink. “He seems as stiff and as cold as ever.”

  Victoria chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know. I think he seems...kind of sad tonight as if he’s lost his best friend, or some such.”

  “I didn’t know Lord Danning was capable of having a best friend.”

  “Oh, Suzanna, you are too cruel.”

  Something in her friend’s tone made her senses bristle. “I didn’t know you cared a fig what Lord Danning felt.”

  Victoria blushed an even darker shade of crimson and waved her remark aside. “No, of course I do not. He is nothing to me. I was merely making a general observation.”

  Suzanna turned her gaze back to his lordship and wondered what had caused this sullen frown on his normally attractive features.

  “And anyway, to term Lord Danning as cold and stiff is a little cruel. From memory I believe you named him the epitome of gentlemanly behaviour last season.”

  Suzanna inwardly cringed at the reminder. “I may have had such a ridiculous notion last year, but my thoughts are much altered this season,
as you well know. I certainly do not think him so now.”

  Victoria touched her arm in a comforting gesture before her eyes widened and sparkled with joviality as she spied someone over Suzanna’s shoulder. “Oh, here comes your brother. Do I appear well enough?”

  “You are as beautiful as always,” Suzanna said, as she turned toward her elder sibling.

  With a sweeping bow, Henry took Victoria’s hand then kissed his sister’s cheek. “May I say how beautiful you both look this eve, Suz, Lady Victoria.” Her brother’s gaze settled on Victoria with a twinkle in his dark green orbs.

  She tittered, and Suzanna wondered when her brother would get up the nerve to ask her dearest friend to marry him. Assuming she would be allowed to marry into gentry, one generation away from trade. Victoria, after all, was an earl’s daughter.

  “What brings you to our side, Henry? Come to sweep your wallflower sister from her seat and dance with her?”

  “Of course I will dance with you, after I escort the delightful Lady Victoria out for the next set.”

  “I would like that very much, Mr. March,” Victoria said.

  Henry threw a smile over his shoulder as they walked away. Alone, Suzanna sipped her drink and watched the dancers twirl and laugh on the ballroom floor. Many of the gentlemen here tonight had looked her way, but were yet to venture to her side. She checked her gown and touched her hair, making sure she didn’t have anything out of place. Her Aunt Agnes smiled and waved from her situation, not a few seats away.

  Suzanna smiled back and hoped she didn’t disappoint her aunt with another disastrous season. Henry and she owed everything to their father’s only living sister. After the tragic death of their parents in a carriage accident, Aunt Agnes had come to live with them and raised them as best she could.