Draker’s face betrayed no reaction. “Things not going well with the fortune hunting?”
“Actually, I’ve convinced Miss Merivale to marry me. And according to Byrne, she’ll inherit a hundred thousand pounds upon her marriage.”
Draker scowled. “I wouldn’t trust Byrne, if I were you.”
“I don’t have any choice.” Alec flashed Draker a rueful smile. “And since the Merivales are in debt to him, he knows what he’s talking about.”
“Ah. So why do you need five hundred pounds?”
Swallowing his resentment at having to explain himself, Alec related the entirety of the situation between him and his tenant farmers and Harris.
When he finished, Draker’s lordly manner had softened. “I see. Sounds like you’ve got a good steward there in Mr. Dawes. That strain of barley is high-yielding indeed. If the man is suggesting you plant that, he’s got a good head on his shoulders.” When Alec raised an eyebrow, Draker shrugged. “Half of my own tenants have been planting it for three years now, with excellent results.”
“I’ve read the literature Dawes gave me about it, and it sounds like a viable crop, especially in Suffolk’s soil. But the clay gets so hard that we need those heavy tillers, and I’ll soon have to buy some Suffolk punch horses—”
“I’ve heard of those. A kind of draft horse, isn’t it? Only bred in Suffolk. I wonder if they’d be useful around here.”
“I’ll send you the first foal I get from them,” Alec offered, “if you can see your way clear to loaning me that five hundred pounds.”
Draker’s face went carefully blank. “Why didn’t you borrow it from Byrne? You’re doing him a favor by marrying this heiress.”
“Byrne is in Bath right now, and I need the money by tomorrow night.”
“So I’m just supposed to hand over five hundred pounds to you, is that it?”
“I have something to offer as collateral.” He’d pondered the problem all the way here and had come up with one enticement, though not one he relished offering.
Draker raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
He steeled himself. “My horse.”
Interest flickered in Draker’s eyes. “Your horse?”
“It’s a Lusitano of excellent bloodlines, worth over a thousand pounds.”
“Then how did you come by it?”
“General Beresford acquired it in battle and gave it to me for my service to the cavalry.”
Draker’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, Byrne told me how you’d actually spent the past ten years.”
That surprised Alec. He hadn’t realized his brothers had spoken again since that night at his hotel.
“He says,” Draker continued, “that you can do amazing tricks on a horse. Not a particularly useful skill for a man trying to get an estate running again.”
Alec gritted his teeth. “I’m willing to learn the right skills. I just need help.”
“Five hundred pounds of help.”
“For which I’m offering my horse as collateral, and it’s worth twice that. If you know of my work in Portugal, then you know I can assess a horse’s value. And that I’m not exaggerating Beleza’s attributes.”
“You could be. Horse merchants do it all the time.”
Alec bit back an oath. “But I’m a gentleman and a man of good character, not a horse merchant.”
“That remains to be seen.” Draker settled back in his chair. “If it’s so fine a horse, why didn’t you offer it to your Mr. Harris as collateral?”
“I tried. Having been taken in by my father one too many times, he’s beyond accepting anything but money from my family—he made that very clear.”
“Did you bring this horse with you?”
“No. I came straight here from Suffolk.”
“In my carriage,” Draker said dryly.
Alec glared at him. “Yes. I needed speed.” He tamped down his temper. “But if you want to see Beleza, meet me at my hotel in the morning, and I’ll let you look her over. Then you can decide whether to loan me the money.”
For several long moments, Draker seemed to consider Alec’s offer. “So why don’t you sell the horse?”
“I want to keep her if I can,” Alec growled. “And since all I need is a loan for a few weeks until I marry—”
“If you marry. What if it doesn’t work out with your heiress? Will you still give me the horse in lieu of payment?”
Feeling as if someone had reached inside to rip out his heart, Alec said, “Yes.”
“And what would you ride?”
“A nag,” Alec snapped. “Now, will you loan me the money or not?”
Draker gave him a speculative glance. “I tell you what. Let me show you my estate while I’m thinking it over. You can talk to my tenants about the barley. You can even speak to my steward about husbandry. Then I’ll give you my answer.”
Alec held back his hot retort. This was a test. Draker wanted to determine if Alec had what it took to make a go of an estate, or if he was just playing at it.
Although Alec didn’t blame the man for doubting him, time grew short. He glanced at the clock on Draker’s desk. He had ten hours before he had to pick up Katherine and Mrs. Merivale for the Purefoy party, including an hour to drive back to London and an hour to dress. He couldn’t miss the party—he was hoping Katherine would finally have spoken to Sydney so Alec could make their betrothal official.
But there was still time left. And he had no choice but to play Draker’s game if he wanted his money. “All right,” Alec told his half brother. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Eighteen
The true rake has no heart. A desire for
pleasure is the only thing beating inside
his chest.
—Anonymous, A Rake’s Rhetorick
It was happening all over again. How many times had Katherine sat with Mama, waiting for Papa to show up to take them to an assembly in town as he’d promised, only to have him stagger in with his cravat askew, reeking of ale?
How many times had she listened to his lies that he’d been delayed by a broken carriage axle or a lamed horse, watching Mama’s temper rise until it erupted into shouts? All the while her own anger simmered deep inside where she always thrust it, because somebody in the family had to keep a clear head.
Tonight, however, she was the one ready to erupt while Mama sat and watched warily, having long ago fallen into an uncharacteristic silence.
Katherine refused to endure this any longer. Gathering up her reticule, she rose and headed for the parlor door.
“Katherine Merivale, where do you think you’re going?” Mama asked.
“Upstairs.” Katherine gestured to the clock. “He’s an hour and a half late. You might as well accept that he’s not coming. And since we have no carriage and we turned down the one Lady Purefoy offered to send for us, we have no way of going by ourselves. Thomas will never find a hackney at this hour, not with all the parties going on.”
She gathered in a steadying breath, fighting not to show her anger. “So I’m going upstairs to change clothes and read. At least it will keep my mind off… everything.”
“Now, Katherine, perhaps he was held up on his estate—”
“You said you didn’t believe he’d gone to his estate.” Her mother’s troubled frown only heightened Katherine’s temper. “Even if he did, and even if he found upon his arrival that he wouldn’t be able to get back for the party, he’s had plenty of time to send us a message from Suffolk. The mails are quick these days.”
“He might have had an accident on the roads, you know. It does happen. And there are highwaymen, too.”
That brought her up short. Oh, God, what if something horrible had happened to him? The idea of Alec lying in some ditch—
No, she couldn’t believe it. Alec, of all people, would keep his team and carriage in perfect shape and hire the best coachman. And any highwayman confronting a man who could slice a pear in half at a dead gallop would surely find himself bested.
His evasi
ons concerning the Stephens Hotel told her Alec was deceiving her about something, and his absence was part of it. She just knew it.
“I seriously doubt his lordship has had an accident. He is simply exercising his right to behave like a cad, now that I’ve agreed—” She broke off, hoping Mama hadn’t caught her slip.
But her mother could be very clever when it came to certain matters. “Now that you’ve agreed to what, Katherine?”
Katherine sighed. “To his proposal of marriage. That night at Astley’s, he asked me to marry him, and I agreed.”
Mama’s face lit up. “My dear girl, that’s wonderful!” She pressed her hands to her heart. “My daughter, the countess… oh, I knew it would happen, I knew it! The way his lordship looks at you, and his kind courtesies—”
“Like not showing up to take me to a party when he promised?”
“Pshaw, these things happen.” Mama waved her hand dismissively. “You’ll see what I mean when you’re married.”
Which was precisely what worried Katherine.
Her mother frowned. “But why didn’t you tell me this before? And why didn’t he speak to me about it?”
“He wanted to, but I… um… asked him to wait until I could tell Sydney.”
“What?” Mama leaped to her feet and began to pace, gesticulating wildly. “For a clever girl, you are sometimes exceedingly foolish. When a man proposes marriage, a girl in your position does not keep him dangling on a string. It would be one thing if men were clamoring for introductions, but they aren’t. Even Sir Sydney Lovelace has dropped you. And you put off the earl? Are you mad? It’s no wonder the man has abandoned you.”
“I hardly think—”
“Exactly—you don’t think at all! You’ve been so cool to him that Lord Iversley probably thought you meant to toy with his affections. Then you told him we weren’t invited to Lady Holland’s. Now he has second thoughts, no doubt, which is why he’s dallying at his estate or… wherever.”
“If you’re right, then we’re well rid of him.” Kathleen swallowed down the tears threatening to well up. “I don’t want to marry a man who’d be scared off by our low connections or by my wanting to do right by a friend.”
But if he was the sort of man she’d come to believe he was, he would be here. Or at the very least, would have sent a message. Instead of taking for granted that she would wait on his whim. Instead of hiding things from her and pretending to be other than he really was—whatever that happened to be.
She squared her shoulders. “I’m going upstairs, Mama. Come fetch me if he should happen to appear.” Then she would give him a piece of her mind, and this time, no amount of kissing would distract her.
She’d actually let him persuade her that all his evasions were reasonable. That he’d kept his unorthodox past hidden for a legitimate reason, even though there’d been holes the size of caverns in his stories. But the past two days had given her plenty of time to ponder them.
Why had one childhood incident estranged him from his father? Why had his father allowed his only heir to work for a living in a country wracked by war, instead of coming home to do his duty? That was a rather profound estrangement, it seemed to her—Alec must have done something truly awful to warrant it.
And what did the uncle have to do with anything? Surely as Alec’s guardian he would not have approved of Alec’s work with the cavalry. She would question Alec’s entire tale, except that she’d seen him ride and perform cavalry maneuvers. One didn’t learn that sort of thing overnight. But he was keeping something from her; she was sure of it. Aside from his mysterious evasions about the Stephens Hotel.
Entering her room, she tossed her reticule on the bed, and as she passed the mirror she caught sight of her reflection and the damascene brooch she’d worn especially for Alec.
A lump settled in her throat. What if he’d lied about the pin and had bought it for a woman other than his mother? That might explain his determination not to return to England—some Portuguese beauty might have captured his heart.
He might even have left his uncle’s house to be with her. That would explain why he’d had to make money. Though he was conscious enough of his obligations not to marry such a woman, he could make her his mistress… and keep her at a place like the Stephens Hotel, while he looked for an acceptable English wife to bear his heir.
Katherine groaned. Yes, that would be more in keeping with the Alec she’d come to know. She couldn’t see him cavorting with some doxy as Papa had, but Alec in love with an unacceptable woman… that fit his character.
And was much more painful to contemplate. Alec loving another woman while he’d kissed and caressed Katherine… the very thought made her ill.
She rubbed her aching temples. This was ridiculous— she was letting her imagination run away with her. He would hardly have given Katherine a pin he’d bought for a Portuguese mistress he was still seeing. Besides, if he were leading such a duplicitous life, wouldn’t it behoove him to try even harder to allay Katherine’s suspicions, instead of not showing up when he was supposed to?
He’d probably just been delayed at his estate. But the fact remained that whatever the reason for his absence, it was tying her into knots, which was precisely what she’d wanted to avoid by marrying Sydney. Did she really want a lifetime of emotional tumult with Alec?
Then again, what choice did she have? Sydney had disappeared and might never be coming back. And could she even find another husband to suit her?
She dropped onto her bed, then felt something dig into her bottom. The Rake’s Rhetorick. She’d been reading it earlier, during a bout of worry about the Stephens Hotel.
Tugging it out, she opened it to the chapter entitled “The Married Rakehell.” She couldn’t bring herself to read it before, but now one sentence leaped out at her: “If a rake knows he must eventually marry to fulfill his duty, he should hide his pursuit of pleasure from the world. The more discreet the rake, the better his chances of continuing his activities after his nuptials.”
A shudder wracked her. Was Alec trying to be discreet? Lulling her into believing he would be faithful? But then, why choose to court her? Why not fix on a less suspicious sort of female?
The sound of a carriage halting in front brought her to her feet. He was here after all! He would explain everything, and it would be all right. If she could believe his explanations.
Grabbing her reticule, she hurried out so quickly that she was halfway down the stairs before she realized she still held The Rake’s Rhetorick. As she debated whether to return it to her room, a man appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
Sydney.
She froze. He must have received her note. But why come now? Cramming the chapbook into her reticule, she went warily down to meet him.
“When you didn’t show up, Lady Purefoy asked me to fetch you and your mother,” he said in a low voice as she approached. “I readily agreed, hoping I could speak with you. If you’ll allow it.”
“Why wouldn’t I? Didn’t you get my note?”
He frowned. “What note?”
“I sent a message to Lord Napier’s estate, asking you to come here. When I paid your mother a visit, she told me that’s where you’d gone.”
He flushed a deep scarlet, then glanced away. “Yes, I needed to think. And Ju—… Napier… said I could do so at his house.” His gaze swung back to her, dark and troubled. “But I left yesterday and returned to London. Mother didn’t mention your visit, and Napier… well… I left after we argued, so I suppose he was too petty to send your note on.”
Mama burst into the hall. “I thought I heard—” She stopped short, confusion flooding her face. “Oh, hello, Sir Sydney. What are you doing here?”
Sydney gave his usual gentlemanly bow. “I’ve come to take you to Lady Purefoy’s party. Apparently there was a misunderstanding. She said you’d told her not to send a carriage.”
“We did,” Katherine said tightly. “Lord Iversley promised to take us, but he’s not here
.”
“He was detained at his estate,” Mama said hastily. “I’m sure he’ll be here any moment, however.”
Katherine squared her shoulders, then descended the last few steps. “I’m not waiting to find out. Neither should you, Mama. If Lady Purefoy was kind enough to send someone for us, the least we can do is go.”
In the end, Mama couldn’t stand the possibility of missing her friend’s birthday party, so she allowed Sydney to take them off.
Katherine hardly knew what to think of Sydney’s strange behavior toward her on the way there. He shot her earnest glances, toyed nervously with his cravat, and in general seemed very disturbed. What did he want to talk to her about? Why had he quarreled with Lord Napier? Could he be reconsidering his rude behavior toward her of late?
And how on earth would she break the news to him about her engagement to Alec? Or should she even do so, when she was so uncertain of Alec herself?
By the time they disembarked at Lady Purefoy’s, Katherine was so agitated that she didn’t know whether to be relieved or alarmed when Lady Purefoy commandeered her mother after they entered, leaving her alone with Sydney.
A waltz was struck, and Sydney held out his hand. “Will you honor me with this dance, Kit?”
She nodded. Right now she needed the steady comfort of being with Sydney, who’d always been her lifeline in the storm that was her family.
But as they danced, that steady comfort evaded her. Being with him felt… unfamiliar. Awkward. And she’d never felt awkward with Sydney in her life.
“Have I lost all chance with you then, Kit?” Sydney asked in a low voice.
With a start, she gazed up into his worried face. Had he read her mind, for goodness sake? “What do you mean?”
“I hear Iversley is courting you. And if I were to judge from that kiss you gave him at the reading, you are not… averse to the courtship.”
“Sydney—”
“No, let me say this first. I know you’re unhappy with me, but I can make it up to you. If you’ll consent to marry me, I’ll go to Mother now and tell her. I’ll announce it at this very party, before I even tell her, if that is what you wish.”
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