Two Beaux and a Promise Collection

by Allison Lane

  “I’ll wring his neck!”

  “People would ask why. So far, few know of the plot, and Jessup is not your greatest danger in any event. Riley also revealed that the Crown is poised to arrest Peter on other charges. A trial will blacken your family name. The best way to avoid scandal is to send him abroad. Have you property he could manage?”

  “A small plantation in Jamaica.” He paused. “I knew he was wild, but I hadn’t wanted to believe— I will speak to Riley immediately. Thank you for bringing the problem to my attention, Lord Charles.”

  The door creaked, then slammed shut. Footsteps moved away, shuffling leaves and snapping twigs.

  Diana turned as if to follow.

  “No,” whispered Edith. “Sir Waldo will be furious if he finds out you overheard.”

  “How—” Her chin quivered.

  “No tears. You know they leave your eyes red.”

  Diana nodded, inhaling deeply several times. She was opening her mouth to continue, when a voice rang out.

  “Sir Waldo! Are you out here?” Jessup.

  Again the door creaked. Someone had remained behind. “What do you want?” growled Sir Waldo.

  “We have business to discuss,” said Jessup pleasantly, though the desperation underlying his voice made Edith fear he might ignore yesterday’s clear warning from Charles. Surely he wouldn’t demand Diana’s hand in marriage. She tensed, wondering if she should draw Diana aside. But Diana again had her ear pressed to the wall.

  “I’ve no business with a cur,” snapped Sir Waldo.

  “Yes, you do.” Jessup must have shouldered Sir Waldo inside, for the door slammed shut, bringing the men closer to the rear wall and making it easier to hear. “I need a thousand pounds to meet a pressing debt. Unless you supply it, I will tell Lady Beatrice about my assignations with your daughter.”

  “Scoundrel!” Flesh thudded against flesh.

  “I may be a scoundrel, but I have no choice,” Jessup growled painfully. “Without the money, I’m ruined.”

  “Then marry the chit. Merrimont has eyes like a hawk and will know of any assignations. He won’t wed soiled goods, so she’ll be free to entertain an offer.”

  “It is true that Giles would be appalled, but he’s been too busy with Schechler to notice. I don’t want a wife, especially this one. Her petty demands would drive me to distraction. So you have a choice. Pay me, and she’ll live respectably as Giles’s wife. Refuse, and she’ll become an outcast. Can you tolerate having her under your roof for the rest of your life?”

  Tears flooded Diana’s face, but she remained silent. Edith pulled her close.

  “You won’t say a word,” said Sir Waldo ominously. “No, stay in that chair. It’s your turn to listen. You are alive only because I know Diana has done nothing wrong. She might flirt more than is seemly, but she would never ruin herself.”

  “Truth matters not,” countered Jessup. “Society believes the worst of anyone, and I can supply that worst.”

  “I told you to listen!” Another thud reverberated through the cottage. Jessup must have tried to rise and been forced back. “You’re a weak fool, Jessup, but I will overlook it this once because I’ve been just as weak. For years I denied that Peter is a villain, blinding myself to all evidence. That is no longer possible. Peter cheated in that card game, so you owe him nothing. I will incarcerate him when we return to the house, and he will leave on the first ship I can find. You have no debts, sir. But neither are you welcome under my roof. Use this reprieve to embrace honor. And never forget that I’ll be watching. If you bend honor again, I will destroy you.”

  Edith pulled Diana away, tiptoeing so they would not be heard. The girl was too distraught to remain quiet much longer.

  “H-he lied to me,” Diana wailed when they were alone.

  “Yes, he did.”

  “And he lied to Papa.” This time anger threaded her voice.

  “True.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Nothing.” She forced Diana to look at her. “You will do nothing. Sir Waldo has settled the matter, and Peter cannot hurt you again. Rejoin your guests and behave like the innocent lady you are.”

  “Truth.” Bitterness dripped from the word. “I wish I had never sought the truth.”

  “Truth is often painful,” Edith agreed. “But it is better than lies, for lies invariably come to light in the worst possible way. And if you think about it, you will admit that you never cared for Jessup. You were using him to make Giles jealous, just as he used you to seek his fortune.” She lightened her tone, hoping her explanation was close enough to the truth that it would not cast doubt on the amulet. “Wedding preparations often drive people a little mad. It is unfortunate that you let excitement push you into hysteria, but people will forgive your exuberance if you henceforth present an image of perfect propriety – something that should not be difficult now that you know how an unscrupulous man can twist the slightest slip into scandal.”

  “I’m confused,” admitted Diana. “I thought Jessup was a gentleman. He wooed me constantly, yet he doesn’t even like me. All he wanted was money. How can I trust that Giles isn’t the same? He’s made no effort to please me since our betrothal.”

  “Giles is nothing like Jessup. Nor does he need to wed money. He has enough of his own. If you’ve learned anything, it should be that truth is more important than pride. Why don’t you swallow yours long enough to ask him these questions, calmly and without recriminations? Tell him your fears, then judge by his response.”

  The last of Diana’s color fled, leaving her white and shaking.

  — 7 —

  Charles hid his irritation as he tromped through the woods in search of a suitable Yule log. So far his newborn confidence had achieved nothing. He’d expected to make progress with Merrimont that morning, but it hadn’t happened.

  Unlike Inslip Manor, where the groundskeeper maintained a special grove to provide holiday decorations, Russell House boasted only a half-wild wood spread over an entire hillside. When the party had scattered in search of greens, he’d quickly lost sight of Merrimont. Miss Russell had led Edith in another direction entirely, so he’d abandoned his plans and dealt with Sir Waldo.

  At least that had gone well. Sir Waldo had lured Russell away while everyone was busy in the woods. No one yet realized that Russell hadn’t returned.

  But Charles was still kicking himself over losing sight of Edith. Miss Russell had seemed strained when the group had gathered around the fire for chocolate and carols. Edith had looked worse. Something had clearly happened, but he’d been unable to get her alone to ask about it.

  Now he faced another delay. Schechler had refused to resume negotiations. Charles couldn’t get near Edith, who was with the ladies, plaiting garlands and making kissing boughs. So he’d had no choice but to join the gentlemen fetching the Yule log – and if Sir Waldo kept everyone too busy to note Russell’s absence, hours could pass before they actually found the log that had been drying since midsummer for just this occasion.

  Perhaps he should talk to Merrimont and convince him to confront Miss Russell directly. Not that he wanted to, of course. If he failed to break down the man’s rigid pride, it would be impossible to resurrect the original plan. But they could at least talk about the negotiations. Schechler’s latest ploy was probably meant to bring pressure on Merrimont. They all knew the man was under orders to sign an agreement before the wedding.

  “Here’s a log we can use,” shouted Sir Waldo with false jollity.

  “It’s too small,” complained his cousin. “That won’t burn more than three hours.”

  Insults flew from all sides, denouncing the log with such fervor that Sir Waldo held up his hands in mock surrender. “All right. All right. We need something bigger,” he conceded. “Let’s keep looking.” And they were off.

  Charles worked his way through the crowd, which straggled badly. Half an hour passed before he admitted Merrimont wasn’t there. Had he bolted?

 
“Damnation,” he muttered. He’d not checked to see who was going before they’d left the house. Hunting the Yule log traditionally required every able-bodied gentleman in residence.

  This had to be Jessup’s fault.

  Edith had paused before lunch long enough to report that Jessup was gone after trying to blackmail Sir Waldo. They’d been interrupted before she could supply details, but maybe Merrimont was following his erstwhile friend to find out what had happened.

  He hoped not. Merrimont might blame Miss Russell.

  “Here’s a log that’s big enough,” called Sir Waldo as they reached a clearing. A massive trunk fifty feet long and nearly four in diameter lay along one edge. Years of exposure to the elements had stripped off all the bark.

  “It’s too big,” someone shouted. “It won’t fit in the fireplace.”

  “We’d need a hundred men to carry it,” cried another.

  “I do not understand this custom,” complained Schechler as the crowd happily insulted the behemoth.

  “The Yule log?” asked Charles.

  Schechler nodded.

  “It is a symbol of warmth and good cheer, bringing luck for the new year. Choosing the right log is important, for it will be lighted tonight and must burn through the end of Christmas if the luck is to hold. The last brand is used to light the next year’s log, carrying the luck forward.”

  “The good cheer I can understand,” he said, gesturing toward their companions, most of whom had partaken liberally of wine at luncheon and many of whom were staving off cold with nips of brandy. “But how does the burning of this log bring luck?”

  “Why do people in your country drag whole trees into the house at Christmas?”

  “Tradition.” Schechler shrugged.

  “So is this.”

  Schechler sank into contemplation, so Charles let his mind drift to the jolts Edith had given him yesterday – and to the kiss he couldn’t forget. She was far more than a clear-minded friend…

  Sir Waldo led them on another lengthy circuit of the woods, finally arriving at the real Yule log. Cheers rose from all sides.

  “Perfect!” shouted the cousin.

  “Excellent size.”

  “Easy to lift.”

  “We will have a prosperous new year after all.”

  “What luck to find it so near the house!” As if the groundskeepers hadn’t dragged it that far so the gentlemen wouldn’t have to exert too much effort carrying it inside.

  Schechler unexpectedly laid a hand on Charles’s arm. “What do you know of Herr Russell the younger?”

  “You mean Mr. Peter?” asked Charles.

  Schechler nodded.

  “He is on his way to the Caribbean to avoid arrest for fraud. Why?”

  “His word is not to be trusted, then?”

  “No. He speaks only the words that will serve his own dishonorable purposes. This past week he has been pressing at least three separate feuds, spreading maximum ill will about each of them.”

  “Ah. She was right, then.” Smiling, he stepped up to grasp one of the stubby branches left to make carrying the log easy. “We will carry this lucky log indoors, then perhaps we can complete our business.”

  Charles helped hoist the log. “I’m sure we can.” He blessed Edith for her advice to Schechler yesterday. She’d made the man think – just as she’d made him think. It was a talent he wished he’d recognized sooner…

  * * * *

  Edith kept a close eye on Diana as they left the church that evening. She wasn’t sure the girl would make it home without bursting into tears.

  Christmas Eve was usually a day filled with excitement as the company decorated the house, shared fond recollections of previous holidays, tested the kissing boughs, sampled wassail and a host of special treats…

  But Charles’s amulet had turned it into the worst day of Diana’s life.

  She believed in its magic. Believed that everything she saw or heard today would be true. So for the first time in her life, she had focused her attention beyond herself, noticing much that she would usually have ignored – Giles riding down the drive with Jessup, deep in conversation, then retiring to his room without a word on his return; a cousin’s parody portraying Diana as an arrogant queen who demeaned her suitors with frivolous demands; a gossip’s speculation that Giles’s mistress would offer him a refuge from his shrewish wife so, of course, he would keep her on…

  Diana had been close to tears twice, but she’d kept a smile on her face and remained cordial. Not until Giles arrived late for Christmas services and remained in the back of the church had she cracked. So public a cut was impossible to ignore.

  Edith caught Charles’s eye, silently pleading with him to do something. He tugged his ear, then pulled Giles aside when the others headed for the path that twisted through the woods to the manor. It skirted the dense thickets that crowned the low cliff formed when the stream had cut into the hillside.

  “Let everyone get ahead of us,” murmured Edith as Diana’s fists clenched. “This is your chance. You and Giles must talk honestly. Tonight. Share your truths, then listen to his. Only then can you decide what to do.”

  Diana nodded. Her hand clutched at her bosom as if drawing strength from the amulet.

  “Good. Stay in control. Hysterics will make it impossible to learn anything useful.” She nodded toward the vicar, who remained outside the church. “Since you don’t want an audience, we will wait just beyond the first bend. When the men catch up, I will accompany Lord Charles to the house. Just make sure you and Giles return before we light the Yule log.”

  “Thank you.” Diana relaxed, giving Edith hope that she would approach the coming scene calmly. Now all she could do was pray that Charles could draw some concession from Giles that would give this discussion a starting point.

  * * * *

  “You seem oddly subdued for a man approaching the altar,” said Charles as he and Merrimont left the church behind. With Edith waiting barely a hundred feet away, he didn’t have time for subtlety. “Problems?”

  “Schechler is an ass. Jessup has betrayed me. Diana—”

  “Schechler is no longer a problem. We reached an agreement this afternoon. You can look it over tomorrow.” Charles had gained more concessions than he’d expected. He owed Edith for puncturing Schechler’s stubbornness, but in retrospect it was her effect on himself that had made the real difference. Now that he no longer feared that he was a fake, the wariness that had protected him from exposure was gone – which had turned their session into an exchange of ideas instead of a battle.

  “Good work. Are you off, then?”

  “I’ll stay for your wedding.”

  “If there is a wedding.”

  “Why wouldn’t there be? Jessup is no loss – the man is weak, making him a useful tool for those who would harm you. You have better friends.”

  Merrimont hesitated as the woods closed around them, blocking the moonlight. But perhaps the dark removed the barrier that had been holding his frustration in check, for he suddenly burst into speech. “But that’s the point. I trusted him! I didn’t see his weakness or understand how it might affect me until he told me about Russell’s plot. Diana has been so odd lately that I fear she’s another I can’t trust.”

  “Odd?”

  “She’s a demanding shrew one minute and a spoiled brat the next. Hoyden. Flirt. Harpy. Wanton—” He fisted his hands. “How am I supposed to live with her? If I take her to London, she could destroy my reputation without a second thought. What did I do to deserve this?”

  “She is young yet,” Charles reminded him.

  “Young! She is the veriest infant. I can’t believe I overlooked such faults. I need a wife, not a daughter. It is not my place to teach her how to go on in the world.”

  “Her training is all that you could want,” said Charles firmly. “Miss Knolton is an exceptional teacher.”

  “Which means nothing if the student refuses to learn.” Merrimont slashed a shrub with h
is cane. “Can you imagine Diana at a diplomatic dinner? Her pouting will make me a laughingstock. And demanding that all eyes remain on her insults every other lady in the room.”

  “I can’t believe she will be that bad. Granted, this house party is making her frantic, but she should settle quite well once you are wed. She has too much pride to embarrass herself.”

  “But what if she doesn’t settle? What if she turns into another Lady Seaton?”

  Charles had no response to that, for he could too easily imagine it. Lady Seaton was notorious for her liaisons – her husband had finally shut her in the country under guard until she produced an undeniably legitimate heir, then washed his hands of her, refusing even to share the same roof. But Merrimont was too sensitive to gossip to survive such a scandal.

  “I was a fool to offer for her,” Merrimont continued sadly. “All she cares about is herself.”

  Miss Russell let out a muffled shriek. Footsteps rushed away. Moments later her terrified scream slashed the night.

  “Diana!” shouted Edith as the crack of breaking branches ended in a loud thud.

  Merrimont shoved Charles aside and sped toward the ominous silence.

  Charles followed to find Edith clinging to a tree. No one else was in sight. “What happened?” He grabbed her shoulders to make her look at him.

  “She fled his truth. By the time I remembered the cliff…” She pointed to the edge, only ten feet away.

  Merrimont’s voice slashed the forest. “Diana! Wake up. Oh, God! Wake up! I need you, love.”

  Edith held Charles back when he would have followed. “Giles is with her. He’ll call if he needs help, but I doubt she’s dead. It can’t be more than six feet down, and the shrubbery broke her fall.”

  Words tumbled from Merrimont’s lips. Promises. Pleas. Vows of everlasting love. Eventually Miss Russell’s voice responded.

  “Did she fake this?” demanded Charles.

  “No. Call it Fate. Or perhaps your amulet is more powerful than you thought. Fleeing one truth has led her to another. We can let them settle this themselves. Finally.” She turned toward the path and stumbled.

  “Are you all right?” He pulled her against his side.