Two Beaux and a Promise Collection

by Allison Lane

  Herriard was a menace and a disgrace to his breeding. He should never have been put in charge of an innocent maiden. But no one who might have objected had known about her. Once her mother had eloped with a merchant, she’d ceased to exist in society.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d questioned the dictates of his class. Young ladies ought to be more than breeding stock or assets to stave off financial disaster. Guardians should not have total control of their wards. Nor should parents. Society should protect girls from the Herriards of the world – or so he’d argued with Charles more than once.

  Georgiana was a prime example. Imagining her under Herriard’s roof made his blood boil. And Stagleigh would be worse. So lovely a girl was no match for a lecher. He had to protect her – and not just because it would let him pursue Herriard openly. She deserved more than a life of abuse.

  The question was how to proceed.

  Keeping her at Hughes House until he dealt with Herriard would expose his mother to Herriard’s spite. Not a price he was willing to pay; her health was too fragile. Yet there was nowhere else he could take her. He had no rooms of his own and lacked the means to lease something. Even an inexpensive hotel would cost too much just now – his pockets were empty until next quarter day, still two weeks away.

  His only option was to swallow his pride and beg help from his friends.

  “Stay here,” he ordered, laying Georgiana on the couch in Jacob’s study. “I must attend the wedding breakfast, but I will lock the door so no one can bother you. As soon as I can get away, we will discuss the next step.”

  “But—”

  “Relax. I won’t return you to Herriard. The man is a cad. But this is my sister’s wedding day. I cannot abandon her.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I’d rather keep your presence quiet for now, even from the staff, so I’ll bring refreshments when I return.”

  She nodded.

  He didn’t like to leave her alone, but he had no choice. Slipping the key into his pocket, he hurried toward the drawing room. Locking the door protected her, but it also protected him if he’d misjudged her – as occasionally happened. She could not rob Jacob and flee before he returned.

  “Where have you been?” hissed Emily as he joined the receiving line.

  “Finishing up at the church.”

  Jacob raised an aristocratic brow, but said nothing as he turned to greet Lady Debenham, another of London’s most ferocious gossips.

  An hour passed before arrivals dwindled to a trickle. As usual, many more people attended the wedding breakfast than had witnessed the actual wedding.

  When Emily finally headed for the drawing room, Richard held Jacob back. “I need your help. Let me know when you can get free.”

  “Can’t Charles—”

  “Not this time.” Though the three had been friends for twenty years, Charles supported the rights of guardians, even when doing so was not in the ward’s best interests. Jacob had no such reservations.

  “Very well, but why now?”

  “I didn’t choose the time. The problem arose without warning.”

  “Is this why you were late?” Jacob asked as they entered the drawing room.

  Richard nodded, then flashed a practiced smile at Lady Beatrice as Jacob moved to his wife’s side.

  Lady Beatrice glared at Jacob’s retreating back and snorted. “I know the Beaux share everything, but passing around a fiancée is beyond enough.” She transferred her scowl to Emily.

  “My sister would object to that charge,” he said lightly, though this was exactly what he’d feared. Jilting a gentleman always raised brows, but the Beaux’ reputations made it worse.

  He, Jacob, and Charles had acquired the sobriquet The Three Beaux ten years earlier, in part because of their closeness, but mostly because all three were rakes – though not as incorrigible as rumor claimed; he knew of only one female who’d actually lain with all three of them, and he knew about her only because she’d thrown a public fit when Jacob turned down a second encounter. The incident had tarred them with an unwarranted reputation for sharing conquests, adding to the scandal when Emily jilted Charles to wed Jacob.

  Richard met Lady Beatrice’s stare. “Emily and Lord Charles mistook friendship for something deeper. I find it commendable that they addressed the problem as soon as they recognized it. That marriage would have made all three of them miserable. Since the decision occurred only a few days ago, it was easier to change grooms than to cancel the wedding arrangements.”

  “Perhaps.” She raised a lorgnette to study the new Countess of Hawthorne. “I must admit I’ve rarely seen two people so pleased with each other.”

  “Exactly. This was meant to be.” He stifled a spurt of envy as he watched the pair move through the room. Even as they spoke with guests, they were enclosed in a bubble of mutual awareness that excluded those around them. Their joy shone brightly enough to cast all others in the shade.

  “She has done very well for herself,” Lady Beatrice continued. “Impoverished girls have sought Hawthorne’s eye for years. No one else has his combination of title, wealth, and good looks. The connection will serve you well, too. Better than the other would have done.”

  Richard nearly ground his teeth. Why did she insist that Emily was a fortune hunter? Not only had the pair been close since childhood, but Em had a decent dowry. And why did she think Em’s marriage could help him? Jacob was his closest friend. They didn’t need weddings to further that bond.

  But he refused to vent his frustration aloud and even managed several more exchanges before moving on, though his mood remained black. He was tired of her relentless suspicion and very tired of how she pounced on every sign that he might need money.

  This wedding breakfast was yet another thorn in his side, for it was far more elaborate than they had originally planned – thanks to Lady Inslip’s handling the arrangements and tapping Jacob’s bottomless coffers. His own marriage would not be celebrated in such style. His family couldn’t afford it, and he was determined that his wife would never overshadow him, financially or otherwise.

  Long practice stifled any resentment, for thinking of money always strained his friendship with the very wealthy Beaux. It had nearly fractured the group when they’d pressed him too hard to join an expensive outing one summer. Jacob had finally healed the rift and no longer argued when Richard refused. But memories continued to hover, casting shadows on his soul.

  The next hour passed in a blur as he dampened further hints at scandal and toasted the bride and groom. The gossips grumbled, but followed Charles’s lead. Lady Beatrice’s toast finally eliminated his fears for Emily’s future, allowing him to fully relax.

  Now he could concentrate on Georgiana.

  The thought ignited anticipation – because helping her would irritate Herriard, he assured himself. It was the battle, not the girl, that stirred his senses. He could hardly wait to learn her full story. She might even have information that could help his investigation.

  * * * *

  Jacob found Richard in the refreshment room half an hour later. “What happened?” he demanded softly, helping himself to a lobster patty.

  “Herriard and Stagleigh.” Richard handed him a plate.

  Jacob tensed, noting the fury that changed Richard’s warm brown eyes to a feral ocher. To keep his hands busy, he piled delicacies on the plate. “Is that who barged in during the service?”

  Richard nodded. “I maneuvered them outside, but they accosted me afterward.”

  “What do they want this time?” The pair had long been a wart on society’s backside and were no longer included in even the most inclusive invitations. But their feud with the Beaux was personal. Herriard had cheated Richard some years earlier. If the Beaux had not recovered the funds, Richard would have been forced to leave London. It was unlikely that he could have returned.

  Herriard had hated the Beaux ever since, especially Richard, who wasn’t satisfied with recouping his losses. Deter
mined to protect other young men from Herriard’s predations, he kept a close eye on Herriard’s gaming, seeking evidence of cheating that would expel him from the clubs.

  “Did you know that Herriard has a ward? A female ward?” Richard added cream cakes and a lemon biscuit to his own plate.

  “My God!” Jacob lowered his voice when heads turned his way. “Who would trust him within a hundred miles of an innocent? How old is she?”

  “Twenty – until Friday, when she gains control of her dowry and hopes to move out.”

  “Herriard won’t stand for that. He’s always deep in the River Tick, so he’ll demand the money as payment for keeping her. Especially now.” Herriard had lost badly the night before. It was doubtful that he could cover his vowels.

  “Her small inheritance won’t begin to pay his debts,” said Richard, pat on the thought. “So he’s selling her to Stagleigh.”

  Jacob cursed. His butler took one look at his face, then herded nearby guests toward the drawing room. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Jacob asked when he had his temper under control.

  “I told you, I just found out about it. She escaped this morning and is currently in your study.”

  “Devil take it. Can’t you keep your lame ducks away from my wedding?”

  Richard glared.

  Jacob waved a hand in apology. “That was uncalled for. But why the devil don’t you let people know about your crusades? At least then you could ask someone besides us to help you.”

  “It isn’t even us this time. I can’t involve Charles.”

  “I know.” He grimaced. “He can be a real prig when it comes to the letter of the law. What do you need?”

  “A place where she can stay.”

  Jacob frowned.

  “Not here,” Richard added. “Herriard nearly grabbed her as we left St. George’s. Since everyone in town knows where I was headed, he must already be watching the house. I hoped she could use Oakhaven for a week.”

  “Possibly. But first I need to meet her.” He had to decide for himself if she was telling the truth. Richard had fallen prey to false pleas for help before. He had no sense when his compassion stirred. Herriard’s involvement would skew his logic even further. “What is her name?”

  “Georgiana. Her mother and Herriard’s father were siblings. The mother married beneath her, drawing Herriard’s contempt, but I haven’t had time to learn more.”

  Jacob shook his head as he led the way to his study, the plate still in his hand. Richard regularly leaped to the rescue without learning anything relevant. But Jacob wasn’t so gullible.

  The library door refused to open.

  “It’s locked,” said Richard, proffering the key. “I didn’t want her to be disturbed.”

  “Ah.” And maybe Richard wasn’t as oblivious as he seemed.

  His papers seemed undisturbed, allowing him to relax – his parliamentary work meant he often kept sensitive documents at home. The girl was asleep on the couch, a filthy cloak jumbled on the floor beside it. While her face was fair enough in a vapid blonde way, her body could best be described as plump. And her gown was frankly hideous.

  He could see why she’d caught Richard’s eye, though. The lost-waif expression would appeal to his soft heart. And her connection to Herriard made her irresistible.

  “Georgiana?” Having set his plate on the desk, Richard gently shook her shoulder. “Wake up.”

  Startled, she shot upright, then groaned.

  “Be careful of that ankle,” he added.

  “What happened?” asked Jacob.

  “Bad sprain.” He helped her settle, his hand lingering overlong on her shoulder, then joined her on the couch. “This is the Earl of Hawthorne, Georgiana. He will help you.”

  “Georgiana what?” Jacob sat behind the desk. A surreptitious glance into the top drawer confirmed that his cash box remained intact.

  “Whittaker.”

  “And your father?”

  She paused. “Humphrey Whittaker, my lord.”

  “Ah.” Jacob nearly laughed at the puzzlement in Richard’s eyes. Richard rarely heeded financial opportunities because he didn’t have any money. Thus he didn’t recognize the name. But Humphrey Whittaker had founded one of the more profitable independent import companies. Jacob had reaped several fortunes by investing in it. Small inheritance, indeed. Miss Whittaker was a considerable heiress – which explained Herriard’s interest. And Stagleigh’s.

  Despite his frequent protests to the contrary, Richard needed an heiress. Jacob had sworn only last week to see that his friends found suitable wives. It was time that Richard swallowed his pride and stopped pretending he liked living frugally.

  He could summon the bishop from the drawing room and demand an immediate hearing on replacing Miss Whittaker’s guardian, but this was not the time to exercise his influence. Far better to make Richard stay with her while the matter crept through the legal process. Already he could see sparks flying between them. All he had to do was shut them up somewhere safe and let nature take its course.

  But first he must verify his impressions.

  He soon set her at ease and elicited the full tale of her life with Herriard. It wasn’t pretty.

  * * * *

  Richard’s fists clenched as Georgiana revealed Herriard’s refusal to bring her out, the petty cruelties he’d inflicted, and her duties as an unofficial – and thus unpaid – governess for Herriard’s three hellions. She’d been a virtual slave. Never mind that Herriard’s wife was nearly as abused. The thought of Georgiana enduring such hardships fanned his fury.

  When she finished describing her flight, Jacob nodded. “You are right,” he told Richard. “She must stay out of sight until her birthday. Take her to Oakhaven. My solicitor will file a petition on Monday to end Herriard’s guardianship.”

  “So I will be free?” Hope lit her face.

  “Not completely.” Richard patted her hand. “You still need a guardian. The court will not dismiss Herriard unless there is another willing to assume responsibility for you. Who would you prefer?”

  “But—”

  “That is the law, Miss Whittaker,” said Jacob firmly. “All unmarried females must be under the care of a parent or guardian. Consider it a form of protection. Many businesses won’t deal with females. Others will cheat you beyond charging you higher prices. You need someone who can see after your interests and prevent scoundrels from taking advantage of you.”

  * * * *

  Georgiana wanted to scream. At the world. At Hawthorne. But mostly at herself. This wasn’t something she’d learned in childhood, nor had the subject come up under Derrick’s roof. All her plans had focused on escape. She’d not considered how she would go on afterward. How many other problems would prove troublesome? It was a question she must answer.

  “Finding another guardian will be difficult,” she admitted. “I know very few people. Father’s partner now owns the business, but he criticized Father’s marriage and accused him of giving me airs above my station, so he would not make a comfortable guardian. I know no other relatives. And I was not allowed to meet callers while living with Lord Herriard.”

  Richard shook his head. “We can discuss possible guardians after the guests leave. For now, Hawthorne and I must return to the drawing room.” He stood.

  But she had more questions. “Where is Oakhaven?”

  Hawthorne smiled. “Four hours south of London. It’s one of my smaller estates. My staff will make you comfortable.” He picked up a pen.

  “You know we can’t stay here,” added Richard as Hawthorne pulled out a sheet of paper and began to write. “It’s the first place Herriard will look. And moving you to another town house – or even a hotel – would start rumors that would attract his attention. My friend Charles can’t help either. So going to Oakhaven will keep you out of sight.”

  She nodded, then froze as his friend’s name suddenly connected the other two. Richard. Charles. The Earl of Hawthorne.

&nb
sp; The Three Beaux.

  Dear Lord, she’d fallen into a nest of degenerate rakehells.

  Even living as an unpaid servant didn’t insulate her from gossip. Everyone knew of the Beaux, for the tales titillated all classes. Their escapades were legion. So were their conquests.

  The Earl of Hawthorne was renowned for the swath he’d cut through the demimonde. Tales claimed he bedded someone every night, but never the same person twice. His wealth was legendary, his exploits larger than life. Even seducing his best friend’s fiancée did not tarnish his social standing, though he’d had to wed the girl. Richard’s sister.

  She shuddered.

  Lord Charles Beaumont always had the most desirable courtesan in London under his protection, yet he flirted with everyone he met and wasn’t averse to seducing matrons. Rumors claimed he’d bedded most of society’s hostesses. Like Hawthorne, he was wealthy, with an inviolable social position. Even being jilted in favor of Hawthorne hadn’t hurt him.

  Richard Hughes was different. Not in breeding – he was heir to a viscountcy. But the family coffers were dry, so he couldn’t afford courtesans. Thus he limited his attentions to widows and matrons, who expected nothing beyond a sample of his amazing prowess. Such conquests had led to threats, fisticuffs, and at least one duel, all of which diminished his credit. Only the support of the other Beaux kept him acceptable. He was also known as a hellion, with many pranks and scrapes to his credit. Derrick hated Hughes. She didn’t know why, but they were bitter enemies – which raised the question of why Richard was helping her.

  She could understand his reputation as a rake. His potent masculinity demanded attention, saturating the air until it was hard to breathe. His gentleness made him all the more attractive. But if she had any sense, she would decline further assistance.

  “Before we leave, she needs to have her ankle wrapped,” Richard was saying. “It’s the worst sprain I’ve ever seen.”

  “That bad?” Hawthorne shook his head. “My housekeeper can see after it. And you will need to change clothes. You can hardly travel unnoticed in formal attire. Help yourself to my wardrobe.”