Fortunately for everyone, his interests aligned quite nicely with the elderly marquess’s. By Twelfth Night, the lady and her dowry would be his.
Chapter Two
Derrick Martin Hunt, Earl of Swainsbury casually studied his three companions as he waited for the gentleman on his left to come to a decision about the cards in his hand. The hint of moisture dampening the man’s forehead indicated that no amount of glaring would change his abysmal luck. A subtle movement from across the table caught his attention. Lord Ravens, his partner for the past two hours, smirked at the obvious distress emanating from their opponent. His partner, on the other hand, sat blissfully unaware of his friend’s distress. His hands and eyes were full of the elegantly attired prostitute sitting on his lap. There was no doubt in Derrick’s mind that the gentleman and the woman would quit the table soon to find a discreet room to finish their business.
He had visited London countless times, but this was the first time he had visited Nox. He had naturally heard wild tales of the establishment that was a notorious gambling hell to the public, but the private rooms required membership to an exclusive gentlemen’s club. The ton referred to the seven founders as the Lords of Vice. From what he had gleaned from bits of gossip, Lord Ravens was not one of the original members, but his connection to them would suffice.
“Rouger, since the card you desire is not in your hand, I highly recommend displaying one that is,” Lord Ravens said, clearly growing as bored as Derrick with the younger lord’s hesitant play. “Besides, I doubt your partner will last much longer with the delightful Callie wiggling on his lap.”
“Did you say something, Ravens?” Lord Mereworth murmured between kisses.
Ravens brushed back a lock of dark hair that tickled his cheek. “Just nudging Rouger so you can slip something other than your hand between her thighs.” He winked, including Derrick in his obvious amusement at their predicament.
“You’re a good host, Ravens,” Mereworth said, chuckling.
Ravens captured the young prostitute’s hand and chivalrously kissed it. Callie giggled. “I am the best in all things, my good man,” he said without a trace of smugness. In the earl’s opinion, he was simply stating a fact.
“Rouger?” Derrick pressed.
“Oh, very well,” Lord Rouger muttered, surrendering to the gentle teasing from his companions. He played his card. “There … are you satisfied?”
Derrick and Ravens had won.
“Indeed, I am,” Mereworth said, freeing the woman from his embrace. The viscount stood, but hastily positioned himself behind her so his arousal was not on prominent display. “Come along, m’dear. Let us find—uh, Ravens?”
The earl waved him off. “Berus will show you the way.”
Derrick blinked, impressed with Nox’s efficient steward’s sudden appearance. The man had a quiet manner that allowed him to blend into the shadows when he wasn’t needed.
Berus inclined his head to Lord Mereworth. “If you will follow me, milord.”
With a farewell wave, the viscount and his female companion departed.
“An excellent trouncing, Ravens.” Lord Rouger stood. He nodded at Derrick. “Swainsbury. A pleasure. All yours this night, but I warrant we shall meet again.”
“I look forward to it,” Derrick said politely. He did not bother pointing out that he had not traveled to London in December to spend it playing cards with such an incompetent cardplayer.
Ravens observed the brief exchange between Lord Rouger and Derrick with a speculative expression on his face. He did not speak until Derrick leaned forward with the intention of standing and saying farewell to his new friend.
“It’s early yet. Stay, and have a drink with me.”
Without waiting for a reply, Ravens walked away to speak to one of the members of Nox’s staff. A minute later, he returned with a bottle of brandy and two glasses.
“You will discover that Nox’s cellar is quite respectable.” He laughed, and shook his head. He removed the cork from the bottle and filled both glasses. “Even if the same cannot be said about its club members.”
“The Lords of Vice.”
“Aye. Though I suspect what you know of the gents comes from the gossips.”
The accusation offended Derrick. “Why do you say that?”
With glass in hand, Ravens waggled a chiding finger at him. “Berus told me this was your first visit to Nox. If you were acquainted with Frost and the others, you would have been a regular patron of the gambling hell or even a private member.”
The earl was curious about him—that much was obvious. Derrick had inherited the Swainsbury title from his uncle years ago, so unlike many of his peers, he had not spent his life preparing for his future duties. The new obligations had not allowed him the luxury of enjoying the amusements in London. Every decision, journey, and task served a purpose, and that included his presence at Nox.
“You are correct. I have not had the pleasure of meeting your friends.”
“Oh, I cannot claim that all seven of them view me as a friend.” Ravens took a sip of brandy as his expression grew contemplative. “However, we have an amicable arrangement when it comes to Nox. So … what brought you to our doors this evening?”
He expected there would be questions since he was not viewed as a member of the ton. “Must there be a reason?”
“Have I mentioned that I have an enviable ability to measure a man’s character at a glance?”
Derrick grinned at Ravens’s boast. The man’s arrogance was boundless. Although he conceded, the earl’s casual delivery had a certain charm. Against his better judgment, he found himself liking the gentleman.
“No, I do not recall you mentioning this while we were playing. I assume you have come to a decision about me?”
The earl set down his glass of brandy. With clasped hands, he rested his elbows on the table and scrutinized Derrick as if he were a puzzle that needed to be solved. “Aye. While you are a competent cardplayer, you are not the sort of gentleman who tosses his fortune away in gaming hells. On three occasions, a female approached you and expressed an interest in seeking your favor. You turned them away.”
Enjoying the game, he said, “Perhaps I have a wife at home.”
Lord Ravens grinned. “I disagree. You might have rejected the women, but your expression revealed that you were not adverse to their attentions. To their misfortune, you were here for another purpose.”
“I am impressed and flattered,” he admitted, hoping the other man would take it as a compliment.
“You should be.” Ravens leaned back in his chair. His posture appeared relaxed, but Derrick wasn’t fooled. “I normally don’t make a habit of interfering in another man’s business. However, I have decided to make an exception with you.”
Derrick snorted softly. A gentleman like the earl paid attention to everyone’s business. It was one of the reasons why he had sought him out.
Lord Ravens picked up his glass of brandy. “So why don’t you tell me the true reason you asked Berus for an introduction.”
Derrick sampled his brandy as he silently debated over how much he should reveal. “I seek an introduction, and I was told that you were discreet and possessed the appropriate connections.”
“My name opens many doors. Who do you wish to meet?”
“Rumor has it that Lord and Lady Netherley will be opening their manor house doors to friends and family in celebration of Christmastide.”
“For a man unfamiliar with the family, you are very well informed.” Ravens idly rolled his glass of brandy against his palms. “Aye, the Netherleys will hold several dinners and balls. An invitation to their Twelfth Night ball is highly coveted. I suppose you wish an introduction to Vane.”
“Vane?”
“Lord Vanewright,” Ravens said, not fooled by Derrick’s feigned ignorance. “Not only is he a founding member of Nox, he is Lord Netherley’s heir.”
Derrick had considered approaching Vanewright directly, but discard
ed the idea almost immediately. He shook his head. “I doubt Lord Vanewright would approve if he learned why I have come to London.”
Understanding flashed in Lord Ravens’s eyes. “Ah, so you have heard about Lady Ellen’s dowry, and have aspirations to claim it.”
Derrick shrugged, unwilling to explain why the dowry was so important to him. “Perhaps I have come to meet the lady who has inspired such a fortune.”
The earl chuckled. “Vane will not approve.”
“I do not need Vanewright’s approval,” Derrick muttered, burying the unwelcomed sympathy he felt for the man who would consider it his duty to protect his sister. “Lord Netherley’s will suffice, though even he might be reluctant to trust a gentleman who has no intimate connections to his friends or family. Hence my problem. You said that you can discern a man’s character. Will you help me?”
Lord Ravens brought his hand to his face, and thoughtfully stroked his chin. His direct gaze did not falter as he studied Derrick in silence. Finally, he said, “Aye, I believe I shall.”
Chapter Three
“Mama says you are still sulking about this dowry business.”
Ellen scowled at her older sister’s accusation. She did not bother denying the charge. Her fifty-two-year-old sibling often behaved like a second mother, but some things could not be helped. Married to Lord Russell Pypart since she was eighteen years old, Susan had an impressive brood of twelve children who ranged in ages from the five-year-old to the eldest one, who had recently turned thirty-three.
Ellen had managed to avoid her sister when she had arrived at Netherley House early that afternoon. Due to their large party, she had even escaped riding in the same coach with her inquisitive sibling as they traveled to Vane and Isabel’s town house. It wasn’t until she had offered to arrange the bouquet of flowers she had personally selected from her father’s conservatory that Susan had cornered her.
“And pray, what does Papa have to say?”
Susan watched as Ellen fussed over the bouquet. “He does not care if you sulk. He knows you will do your duty as I did.”
Her mouth flattened into a mutinous line. “He cannot marry me off if no gentleman offers for my hand.”
“According to Mama, three gentlemen have privately declared their intentions.”
Ellen accidentally crushed one of the lilies as her hands fisted at the news. “Why was I not told?” It was not as if one of these brave fellows had dared to approach her. If they had, she would have done her best to convince each one of them to reconsider. With a grimace, she bent the stem of the ruined flower in half and stuffed it into the porcelain vase until it was concealed.
Having noticed her sister’s clever attempt to hide the damage, Susan laughed. “And give you the opportunity to reject all potential suitors out of hand? Oh, I think not. Besides, with many bachelors out of town this month, Papa is willing to wait for a suitable candidate.”
“Have you not noticed there are more than a few unmarried gentlemen attending Vane and Isabel’s rout?” Ellen asked plaintively. “Betrayed by my own brother. I never thought it possible.”
Susan gently captured both of Ellen’s wrists before she could decapitate another flower. “Darling sister, Vane would rather sever a limb than hurt you. If you were not avoiding him and the rest of the family, he would have told you that he is also concerned about this dowry business. You are a very wealthy heiress, and that always attracts unwanted attention.”
“Is there any other sort?” she said, feeling bitter about the whole subject.
Her sister caressed Ellen’s cheek affectionately. “You will never know unless you open your heart. ’Tis the season for miracles, after all.” Susan glanced at the bouquet. “Have you finished abusing those poor flowers? Mama is awaiting our return. She has a few gentlemen who would be honored to meet you,” she said, the corners of her eyes crinkling with amusement.
“Run along. I will join you and Mama shortly,” Ellen said, deliberately prolonging the inevitable.
“Yes … well, do hurry, or else she will send Vane to fetch you.” Susan walked to the arched doorway of the antechamber and paused. “You have good reason to be upset with Papa. However, do not let your anger and fears ruin what little time we have left with him.”
Ellen remained silent. Satisfied she had made her point, her sister left her alone in the small room. It vexed her that Susan was correct. Feeling vulnerable, she glanced sadly at the bruised bouquet on the table. Much like her life, she had made a mess of it.
“Are you lost, too?”
She lifted her head, and turned at the sound of the gentleman’s voice. Her breath caught in her chest at the stranger’s approach. A little taller than her brother, this was a gentleman who commanded attention whenever he entered a room. He was beautiful in the masculine sense. A well-proportioned body to gain an artist’s and a lady’s appreciation, dark brown hair that was lighter than her own and cut short to keep it from curling, and a strong chin and mouth. If she could find fault with his looks, it would be his ears. They stood out a little, but she found the subtle flaw rather endearing. His gray-colored eyes were fixed solely on her, which was slightly unsettling, due to their intensity. A tiny shiver of anticipation flitted through her. If he was one of Vane’s friends, she did not recognize him.
In response to his question, she said, “Not at all. This is my brother’s house.”
On closer inspection, she noticed his gray eyes had flecks of gold within their depths.
“Excellent,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling upward into a smile. Subtle dimples appeared on his cheeks, which only added to his charm. “Then it is providence that I have stumbled across you, for I am.”
“I beg your pardon?” Ellen positioned her body so he could not see the mangled bouquet of flowers.
Her tongue felt thick and her mouth slightly parched. She wanted to groan aloud at her strange behavior. This was not the first time she had encountered a gentleman. In fact, growing up around Vane and the other Lords of Vice, she had considered herself quite immune to masculine charm and a handsome visage.
Who was he? Had he come this evening because he had heard the Marquess of Netherley was willing to give away a king’s ransom to the gentleman who would marry his youngest daughter?
“Lost.” His smile dimmed at her guarded expression. “I was supposed to join my friend in the library and I—Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude or frighten you. I thought I heard you speaking to someone and wondered if I had circled around back to the drawing room. I will leave you alone.”
For a possible suitor, the gentleman was quite eager to flee her presence.
Whoever he was, there was no call for rudeness. “Wait.” Ellen closed the distance between them and offered him a shy smile. “You were not mistaken. My sister and I were discussing…” She hastily swallowed her confession. There was no reason to bring up family business. “You must have passed her on the stairs. I was planning to join her in the drawing room. However, I would be happy to show you to the library.”
“You are too generous, Miss…?”
“Lady Ellen … Lady Ellen Courtland.” She inclined her head as she curtsied. “I am Lord and Lady Netherley’s youngest daughter, and Lord Vanewright’s sister.”
Their gazes locked. “You honor me, Lady Ellen. Permit me to return the courtesy. My name is Derrick Hunt, Earl of Swainsbury.” He bowed.
“A pleasure, Lord Swainsbury. Now, with your permission, I will direct you to the library. It isn’t far. In fact, I am confident you would have discovered it on your own, even if you had not found me.”
“I have changed my mind,” he said abruptly, before they had taken more than a few steps. “I will return to the drawing room with you. I have been wandering about this house long enough that I will most likely find my friend there as well.”
He silently invited her to place her hand on his arm.
Ellen accepted his offer, appreciating the firm muscles concealed beneath the sl
eeve of his evening coat. “The drawing room, it is,” she said, trying not to sound too excited by the prospect.
* * *
Derrick was acutely aware of the lady at his side as they ascended the staircase. She was not what he had expected. The tall, willowy female with the elegantly upswept dark brown tresses, the stubborn chin, and vulnerable blue-green eyes did not require the additional enticement of a sizeable dowry to lure a man into marriage. What was wrong with the bachelors in this town? Why hadn’t some lucky gentleman slipped her from the watchful eyes of her governess and married her before her family deduced he was unworthy of her? Her slender waist should have thickened over the years because of the sons and daughters her husband had planted in her belly.
Instead, fate had given him a goddess who possessed too much wealth for her own safety.
“So how do you know my brother?”
“I confess, I have never spoken to him until this evening,” he admitted, slowing his pace to prevent her from stumbling. “Since I am alone, Lord Ravens has taken me under his wing.”
“In my opinion, it is a precarious position. It astounds me Lord Ravens would trouble himself since he is not known for his charitable deeds. According to my brother, Lord Ravens…” Biting her lip, she realized her frank opinion might be misconstrued. She offered him an apologetic smile. “I did not mean to insult your good friend. Perhaps like my brother and the other Lords of Vice, the gossips overlook the gentleman’s good qualities and speak only of his misdeeds.”
“So Lord Ravens is not one of your suitors?”
She appeared flustered by the question. Her blush revealed as much about Ravens as it did the young lady.
“The earl does not court any respectable lady.”
Lady Ellen did not have to add that her brother would have quietly castrated Ravens for even considering it.
Christmas Brides Page 8