THE DEFIANT LADY

by Samantha Garman

  Earlier in the afternoon, he had sent a note to the Duchess’s townhouse stating an urgent matter had occurred, and he would be unable to escort them to the ball, but would meet them there.

  The gentlemen had come up with a plan. Beaufort was to get close to Miss Fitzgerald, gain her trust and query her for information to find out all that she knew. They were certain she was the culprit, but they did not know how she came about the information.

  Langley wanted to tell his wife about the plan thinking they could enlist her help to ensure Ivy did not hear the gossip. Cy was adamant that the less people who knew the entirety of the situation the better.

  Cy was not concerned that news of his father’s debt had spread like wildfire. He was, however, worried that Ivy would hear the rumors and wonder about his true motives in marrying her. She was a smart woman, and she would put the pieces together. Realizing it was a lot of trouble to go through to keep her in the dark, he knew the ton and how they would react. Ivy would be humiliated and ridiculed, and Cy would not let that happen. Ivy trusted him to take care of her, and he would.

  Ivy entered with her grandmother and Willow, and even from a distance her eyes seemed to glow, and they matched the emerald green ball gown she wore. Her molten curls were pinned up, her graceful neck displayed for the entire world to see. It was an instant reminder of what Cy stood to lose, and it propelled him to action. He immediately went to her side, grasped her hand and boldly kissed it. When she smiled, anger twisted in his gut. He loved her, but if she found out the truth, she would doubt his feelings.

  “I am sorry I could not escort you this evening. Something came up at the gentlemen’s club.” Though it was true, he hated to lie by omission.

  She waved away his excuse. “Do not concern yourself. We are together now.”

  Lord Michael Seaton used that moment to ask her for a dance. She looked to Cy; he nodded and watched as she was swept away into Lord Seaton’s arms. Seaton was a good, respectable sort, and Cy did not worry about Ivy learning anything while she danced with him.

  A handsome eligible gentleman asked Willow to dance and she was immediately whisked away, leaving Cy alone with the Duchess.

  “I must speak with you in private,” he said urgently.

  She turned her elegantly coifed head, full of mostly gray hair and said, “By all means.”

  He went to Langley’s study, let the Duchess enter before him and closed the door. Without any hesitation he said, “My father’s debt has become public knowledge.”

  “Does Ivy know?” Her eyes widened in horror.

  Cy shook his head. “I would like her to remain ignorant.”

  “She is sure to examine the reason behind your sudden engagement,” the Duchess said. “I agree. It is best she know nothing about it.”

  Sighing in relief that he could count on the Duchess, Cy said, “I think I know the perpetrator who spread the information. I am hoping she only knows about the debt and not about the agreement you and I made.”

  “She? You think it is a woman?”

  “Yes. I think it is Miss Emily Fitzgerald.”

  The Duchess scoffed. “The girl is not intelligent enough to pull this off, and much too proper to even consider such a thing. Why do you assume it is her?”

  Cy’s gray eyes went cold. “Only Langley, Fitzgerald and you knew of the debt. It was private and unhandled by creditors.”

  “What about your solicitor?”

  “Crosby has been my solicitor for years and I trust him completely.”

  “How do you think Miss Fitzgerald found out? Do you think her father told her so she would understand why you broke the engagement?”

  “Damned if I know how. I can live with the truth of my father’s mistakes surfacing in society. I can even contend with acquaintances refusing to associate with me until they realize I am in fact quite solvent. I will not have it found out, however, that the reason I became engaged to Ivy was to clear a debt. And I sure as hell do not want Ivy to think the marriage wager was all for show.”

  “Wager, you say?” the Duchess asked, perplexed.

  Cy smiled in a moment of remembered brevity. “When she came to Fenton Hill to return the mare I gave her, I asked if she played cards, and we made a wager. If she won, I was supposed to stop courting her and find a ‘more worthy female’.”

  When the Duchess shot him a devilish look, he held up his hands and said, “Her words, not mine. Anyway, if I were to win, she would have to marry me. She pulled the high card, but I managed to convince her to marry me anyway.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  “I asked for a chance to prove to her that she would never regret marrying me. I cannot fail in this.” His tone was hard.

  “You love my granddaughter.”

  Cy’s gaze was bold and unwavering as he admitted, “Yes.”

  “I have done right by insisting you two marry,” she claimed. “No doubt people will be gossiping and whispering about the debt, but I will do everything in my power to deflect the news from reaching her ears. If she finds out, what should I tell her as well as the rest of the members of society? What are we circulating as a counter rumor?”

  “That the debt has been cleared due to some risky business ventures that paid off. If I had never had the debt in the first place, I would be a very wealthy man now. As it stands, my finances are only modest. For the time being, that is.”

  “You are a wealthy man,” the Duchess remarked. “In all the ways that matter.”

  Grinning wryly, he replied, “Yes, but I plan on having both kinds of wealth. I wish to shower Ivy with anything she could possibly want. She deserves it.”

  “No one will doubt your genuine feelings. You fought a duel for her,” the Duchess pointed out.

  “If Ivy finds out the truth, I might have to remind her of that fact.”

  ***

  Lieutenant Beaufort threw back the rest of his champagne, steeling himself to approach Miss Fitzgerald and ask her to dance. He was not nervous, not in the least. He loathed this plan, and he silently cursed Langley and Stanton. He had ignored Willow the moment he entered the ballroom, and when he saw the rejected hurt in her eyes, he turned away. To ensure their plot succeeded, he would have to pretend he had eyes for no one except Miss Fitzgerald, even though his gaze strayed to the tall, beautiful blonde across the room.

  He sighed and then advanced towards Lord and Lady Fitzgerald. “Good evening. May I dance with your lovely daughter?” he requested. He glanced down at the young woman whose hazel eyes were lit with warm appreciation.

  “Absolutely,” Lord Fitzgerald said with approval.

  Beaufort tried not to sneer, hating that Fitzgerald was sizing up his potential. Everyone knew Beaufort was the heir to a title, if he could ever be convinced it was in his best interest.

  Taking Emily into his arms, Beaufort spun her toward the dance floor, as if they had both rehearsed it a thousand times.

  “You are a wonderful dancer,” Miss Fitzgerald said with a polite smile.

  “Thank you. As are you,” Beaufort said. “You are the epitome of what a gentle lady is meant to be.” Beaufort tried not to choke on his obsequious words. “Other women simply do not compare to your elegance.” He made a point to look directly at Ivy when he said it, hoping Miss Fitzgerald would notice.

  “Are you referring to Miss Ivy Sinclair?” she assessed.

  “I am. Have you met her?” Beaufort inquired.

  Miss Fitzgerald nodded. “I have. Just recently, in fact. She seems…nice.”

  Beaufort chuckled. “Come now. Let us speak as friends. She has an uncommon background, and now she is engaged to the Earl of Stanton. Surely you do not approve, do you?”

  “Perhaps the Earl prefers an un-pedigreed redhead as his future wife.”

  Beaufort laughed, and Miss Fitzgerald’s face glowed. “You have a sparkling wit. May I ask you something a trifle forward?” Beaufort tried to appear seductive.

  Her gaze was open, and curious
when she nodded.

  “There was some talk a while back that you were about to be the next Countess of Stanton. Was the rumor true?”

  Miss Fitzgerald thought for a moment. “It is. The Earl had approached my father for my hand in marriage, but when he discovered the Earl’s debt, he refused to let me marry him,” she said with such sincerity that had she been dancing with anyone other than Beaufort, she would have most assuredly been believed.

  Beaufort had his answer. He guessed Miss Fitzgerald masked her true nature behind her beautiful façade. She was a vindictive, manipulative shrew, and she had somehow found out about the debt.

  Beaufort sighed in mock relief. “Your father is a wise man. Perhaps Miss Sinclair and the Earl deserve each other.”

  She chuckled. “Who do you deserve, sir?”

  “A woman worth the title of Marchioness,” he said mysteriously, but gave her a look that was meant to entrance her. He tamped down his feelings of disgust when her eyes widened and she greedily licked her lips. The woman wanted a title, not the man behind it.

  “I think you could be that woman.”

  When she smiled, he felt a surge of victory. They would have the truth and soon.

  ***

  Cy stayed by Ivy’s side throughout the night and refused to let her out his sight. He danced with her more than was proper, and he would not let her dance with anyone he did not know, for fear of improper conversation and Ivy’s discovery of the horrid rumor.

  When they stood conversing with friends and her family, he leaned down to whisper compliments and witty comments in her ear. Every so often he would catch her gazing at her engagement ring. His fear was measured with excitement. She would be his wife soon.

  Wanting a private moment with Ivy, he escorted her onto the balcony. He sat close to her on the marble bench as other couples farther away remained well within eyesight. He took a deep breath of air and was content to look at her. She smiled at him, her face open, guileless. Every emotion registered across her lovely face; he loved that about her.

  “Do you realize we are to be married in three weeks?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “It seems only yesterday I stepped off the ship from France.”

  “Do you miss Paris?”

  “I miss my mother, but that is not the same thing.”

  He touched her cheek softly. She came from a humble beginning, and the moment her mother had died, she had nothing. “I want to give you everything, so you never have to worry again.”

  She turned glowing jade eyes to his and stretched her body up to kiss him. He wanted to run his fingers through her pinned hair, but he stilled his movements and settled for bringing her body close to his for a tender embrace.

  When they pulled away from their kiss, Cy gave Ivy a few minutes to catch her breath, and then decided it was time to return to the ballroom. Spending any more time in the dark corner of a balcony with her was dangerous. It took all his willpower not to throw up her skirts and make love to her on the bench.

  When they strolled through the double French doors that led back into the ballroom, Cy caught Beaufort’s eye who nodded. Cy needed to speak with him, for it was clear Beaufort had information. Not wishing to leave her unattended, Cy escorted Ivy to her grandmother and Willow, and looked to the Duchess.

  As if on cue, the old woman feigned, “Oh my, I am positively exhausted. I think it is time to depart this glorious evening, though I hate to pull you and Willow away from the festivities.”

  “Not at all, Grandmother. If you are tired we shall leave,” Ivy said.

  “Absolutely,” Willow agreed.

  “I shall escort you to your carriage,” Cy said as he waved down a footman to see to the Cavehill coach.

  “You are leaving!” the Countess of Langley pouted in Ivy’s direction. “We barely had a chance to speak all evening.”

  “That is my fault, Lady Langley,” Cy said smoothly. “I was occupying most of my fiancée’s time.”

  Ivy turned to the Countess and said, “Thank you for hosting such a lovely party in our honor.”

  “It was our pleasure, was it not?” She looked to her husband and received a confirmatory nod.

  “It was, indeed. Good night ladies,” Langley replied.

  Cy saw them to their carriage, and then said to Langley, “We should find Beaufort and speak to him now.”

  They congregated in the library and Langley locked the door so other guests getting lost on their way to the water closet would not disturb them.

  Beaufort did not waste any time relaying his thoughts. “I am quite convinced that Miss Fitzgerald is the source of all this unpleasantness.” He went on to recount his dance with the chit. “She is a spoiled woman that cares for nothing except a title and the status it will bring her.”

  Cy cursed and then swallowed a hefty amount of brandy that Langley had given him.

  “That still does not explain how she found out,” Langley remarked. “Was there anything in writing?”

  Cy nodded in affirmation. “Of course. There was a contract, but it was dissolved.”

  “Perhaps Miss Fitzgerald got her hands on it,” Beaufort suggested.

  “I am going to speak to Fitzgerald,” Cy said.

  “And say what?” Langley asked. “Are you going to accuse his daughter of slander?”

  Cy stood and went for his coat that he had shrugged off. “I shall do no such thing. I am a gentleman, after all. I will speak plainly and hope the man has some insight.”

  ***

  Ivy was in the process of removing the pins from her hair when there was a knock on her bedroom door. She had dismissed her maid, and now she was alone.

  “Come in,” she called.

  Willow stepped into the room, clad in her nightgown and robe. “May I speak with you?” Willow asked.

  “By all means.” Ivy picked up her brush and began to untangle her curls.

  “Lieutenant Beaufort ignored me all evening,” Willow said tartly.

  “Who is able to ignore you, dear sister?” Ivy teased. “You are beautiful and lively.”

  “This is serious, Ivy.”

  “I thought you were not going to settle on him,” Ivy said, sobering. “Grandmother disapproves of him.”

  Shrugging, Willow plopped down on the side of the bed. “I cannot help it. Other men bore me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because,” Willow answered in exasperation, “I danced with a handful of them tonight. They were all pleasant, but...”

  “But not Lieutenant Beaufort,” Ivy finished.

  Willow nodded morosely. “I do not care that he is untitled. The other night when we danced and spoke, he made me feel like I had known him forever. I did not have to guard my words so closely.”

  Ivy sighed. It was exactly how she felt about Cy. It seemed her sister was well on her way to becoming infatuated with the handsome lieutenant.

  “I saw him dancing with Miss Fitzgerald.”

  Ivy stopped brushing her hair and shrugged. “It does not mean anything.”

  Willow sighed in frustration. “He was by her side all evening! And he did not just ignore me when he caught me looking at him, he turned away!”

  “You were staring at him?” Willow glared and Ivy went on, “Never mind. It has to be a misunderstanding. The man seemed quite taken with you when you first met.”

  “You think so?” Willow asked hopefully.

  “I know I should echo Grandmother’s sentiments, because it would be easier if you set your sights on someone else. Still, the heart wants what it wants.” She paused. “Shall I ask Cy about it? Maybe he is privy to Beaufort’s thoughts. They are friends.”

  Willow tossed glossy blonde hair over her shoulder and haughtily replied, “Grandmother is right, he is not worthy. Ask Stanton if you wish, but from this day forward, if I encounter Lieutenant Beaufort in a public setting, I will show him no more favor than any other escort.” She swept from the room, head held high with pride, but not with the
slightest bit of pretention.

  ***

  Emily Fitzgerald stretched lazily and smiled at the lacy white canopy of her luxurious bed. She wallowed in the crisp white sheets as she thought about the previous night. She started humming as she rang for her maid to help her dress.

  “Did you have a good time at the ball, Miss?” her maid asked.

  Emily smiled prettily and replied, “It was a lovely ball, Mary.”

  She was consumed with thoughts of Lieutenant Beaufort, hoping he would call on her soon. Perhaps she would ask her father to invite him to dinner. Maybe then she could manipulate him into telling her of his intentions, and whether or not he wanted to become a marquess.

  As Emily walked to the dining room for a late morning breakfast, she asked Cartwright, the butler, “Is my father in his study?”

  “No, Miss Emily,” Cartwright answered. “Your father went out this morning.”

  Emily’s eyebrows rose. “Where?”

  “I do not know,” he answered very much out of character. Cartwright knew everything that went on in the household and was paid well for being highly attentive. It was doubtful he did not know the whereabouts of Lord Fitzgerald.

  So preoccupied in her own thoughts about becoming a marchioness, she did not challenge his statement. “When he returns, please let me know. I must speak with him at once.”

  ***

  “Thank you for coming on short notice,” Cy said to Fitzgerald. “I have asked the Count of Langley to join us.”

  Fitzgerald waved his hand dismissively. “Not at all. Your message was quite vague, sir.”

  “Did you hear the rumor circulating about my father’s debt?” Cy asked without preamble.

  Fitzgerald squirmed in his chair, and nodded.