Regency 03 - Deception

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Regency 03 - Deception Page 2

by Jaimey Grant


  Her loving husband swung around. “Absolutely not, Brianna Kai Prestwich! I forbid you to give that jackanapes any more money!”

  Bri, being the stubborn and proud creature that she was, bristled instantly. Her green eyes flashed like the stones they so closely resembled. “How dare you? Who do you think you are to forbid me to use my own money in any way I choose?”

  Adam was across the room in two angry strides. He clamped his hands on her arms and pulled her up against him. “I am your husband,” he bit out. “A fact you seem to forget upon occasion.” He smiled wickedly. “Allow me to remind you.”

  Before the last word fell from his lips, Adam kissed her fiercely. She, of course, responded in just the way he deserved. She boxed him on the ear. Well, she tried to, anyway.

  “Hell and the devil, woman!” he exclaimed on a laugh as he caught her hand in mid-air. “I ought to take you over my knee for even attempting that.”

  His wife scowled at him.

  Adam stared down at his furious little redheaded mate. “If you just keep handing that boy money, he will never learn, Bri. You have to let him rescue himself this time. Don’t worry yourself, love. Earls don’t go to debtor’s prison.”

  Lady Prestwich reached up to straighten the damage her husband had inadvertently done to his immaculate cravat and thus avoided his penetrating gaze. He sighed.

  “Look at me,” he commanded gently. She lifted her narrowed eyes to meet his. “I care about Levi, Bri. I do. You have to trust that I will do what is best for him. He needs to learn responsibility. Perhaps marriage will help. He’s been a loose screw ever since his father died, from all I’m told, and he needs to grow up now.”

  “Very well,” she conceded. “But if even one of those heiresses breaks his heart, I’ll…why, I’ll…”

  “Call her out?” Adam suggested helpfully.

  Bri’s chin went up. “Yes, that is exactly what I will do. I will call her out.”

  Adam wrapped his arms around her and laid his chin on her soft curls. “Not until after your confinement, love. We wouldn’t want our daughter picking up such bad habits before she’s even born, hmm?”

  Bri smiled and pressed her cheek closer to his heart. “Daughter? We already have a daughter. I want a son,” she mumbled contentedly.

  “If it were in my power, I would grant your wish, my lady. Alas, I am not as omnipotent as I have led you to believe.”

  She frowned. “I have never believed any such thing and well you know it, Adam Prestwich.”

  Adam stepped back, holding her at arm’s length. “Truly?”

  Laughing, Bri replied, “Truly. But I love you despite that huge flaw.”

  Adam stepped away, snatching up a silver waistcoat and donning it with a few deft movements. “There is something I know, in all my flawed omnipotence, that you do not,” he remarked casually as he fastened the buttons.

  “What is that?” Bri was twisting her own hair up into a credible imitation of a new style she had just seen in La Belle Assemblée. They were going to Lady Jersey’s rout, which was to be the event that officially opened the Season.

  “I know,” Adam replied as he shrugged into his tight-fitting coat of black velvet trimmed with the thinnest of silver piping, “the names of the heiresses Levi is courting.”

  Bri swung away from her husband’s mirror, her gray-green iridescent skirts twirling around her. “You know their names? Do tell,” she cried.

  Adam grinned.

  “The names of the chosen ones are,” he began in a booming voice. He paused for effect and struck a pose—which action had Bri laughing delightedly. “Number one: Lady Regina Trent, only daughter of the Earl of Greenwood. Number two: Miss Suzanne Weatherby, oldest daughter of Baron Weatherby. Number three: Miss Felicity Davis, only daughter of Sir Henry Davis, baronet, and heiress to his entire shipping company.”

  “Oh, Lord, a cit,” Bri groaned.

  “Yes,” Adam nodded sagely, refraining from reminding her that most of his own concerns were tied up in shipping, “a cit. And a far sight better than any of Weatherby’s chits, grasping little hellcats.” He smiled disarmingly. “You’ll never guess who number four is.”

  “He’s already picked out four prospective brides?”

  Adam nodded. Then he said nothing.

  “Well, who is she?” his wife asked in exasperation.

  “Guess.”

  “I don’t want to guess.”

  “Guess.”

  Bri stared at him. And shrugged. “Oh, very well. I’ll guess. Is it Lady Margaret Fines?”

  “Far from.”

  “Miss Amanda Goldsmith?”

  He shook his head, grinning hugely.

  “Is it Gwen or Jenny? If he has set his sights on either of them with an eye to their dowries, I’ll darken his daylights for him,” she vowed grimly.

  “As would Con, myself, and Denbigh. No, it is not Gwen or Jenny. Keep guessing. Oh and here is a hint: he is a clunch for even considering her.”

  Bri furrowed her brow in concentration. Adam thought of Levi as a clunch even at the best at times so it really wasn’t much of a hint.

  She shrugged. “I give up. Who is she?”

  “Mari” was all he said.

  Her jaw dropped. And she stared.

  Adam approached her and gently closed her mouth. “You don’t want to catch any flies, do you, my love?”

  “Mari? Is he bloody daft? Lady Marigold Danvers is a cat, a harpy, a bi—”

  Adam swiftly clamped a hand over her mouth, grinning as he did so. “Yes, love, everyone knows how you feel about Mari.”

  She wrenched his hand away from her mouth. “Is he daft?” she asked again, quite seriously. No one would marry the Earl of Charteris’s eldest daughter. She was an unlovely creature, twisted by greed and her belief that she was perfect.

  Her husband chuckled. “Yes and no, actually. From what I understand, Levi does not really want the chit. But she wants him and her dowry is more than adequate to cover his debts and her father just wants her off his hands. So Charteris doesn’t discourage her and he encourages Levi.”

  “That is very bloodless,” Lady Prestwich commented evenly.

  “Quite.”

  *

  Chapter Three

  “Oh, Ellie, it turned out much better than I imagined it would!”

  Miss Psyche Ellison glanced over at her young employer. They stood in Miss Glendenning’s dressing room admiring the gown that her mistress had ordered especially to match her eyes. It wasn’t the easiest of tasks. Aurora’s eyes were such a strange shade of blue with just a hint of green so as to be almost turquoise. But the shimmery material of softest silk seemed to make the younger woman’s eyes glow. Her blond hair was drawn straight back into a bun with only a few wispy strands escaping to frame her piquant face.

  Unlike most young ladies cursed with straight hair, Aurora refused to use curling tongs. She liked being different from others in looks and in temperament.

  Her face was wreathed in a sweet smile of delight as she beheld her reflection in the looking glass.

  “Do you like it?” Aurora asked breathlessly.

  “You are beautiful, Rory,” the older woman replied with complete honesty.

  “And to think,” Aurora continued, the excitement evident in her voice, “We were actually invited to Lady Jersey’s rout. It is quite a coup for us, Ellie. I wager I can acquire vouchers for Almack’s if I play my cards right.”

  Miss Ellison smoothed her hands over her own new gown of dove gray satin. It suited her brown hair and hazel eyes. She had tried to resist when Aurora had suggested she get a new dress, but the dear girl had insisted and refused to take no for an answer. The child was very determined when she wanted something.

  So if receiving vouchers for Almack’s was next on her list, Miss Ellison was sure it would be done.

  ~~~~~~

  So far, so good. Aurora was inside Lady Jersey’s Berkley Square residence watching the glittering throng of wealt
hy aristocrats as they mingled and laughed and flirted and gossiped. She marveled at the depth of spite and malice that seemed to lurk behind the smiles and manners, secretly disgusted that this behavior was considered not only acceptable but expected.

  It didn’t matter. She actually needed some of the tales related to her in order to determine how best to plan her next move. She was an unknown in Society and that group of ladies and gentlemen were not very welcoming. Especially when they discovered one had none of the ready.

  “There is the Countess of Rothsmere,” murmured Miss Ellison as she stood beside Aurora.

  The dependable Ellie had studied Debrett’s Peerage religiously and gossiped prodigiously since their arrival in Town. As a result, she knew everyone who was anyone.

  “And that satanic-looking rogue with her is her husband Sir Adam Prestwich. She is increasing, I hear, and doesn’t even try to hide the fact.” The older woman paused for a moment before adding, almost unwillingly, “There is some bit of scandal about her ladyship that is not appropriate for a young lady such as yourself. She is well known in Society, however, and her acquaintance may actually help you in your search for a husband.”

  “You know how I feel about vicious gossip, Ellie,” Aurora murmured, looking at the couple indicated. The lady’s husband certainly was handsome, in a forbidding sort of way, she thought in wide-eyed wonder. The countess was very beautiful with masses of dark red curls and sparkling emerald eyes.

  “And that, over there,” Ellie said with a gesture of her chicken-skin fan towards a tall, elegant man of average looks and build, “is Lord Delwyn Deverell. He is the Duke of Traverhurst’s younger son and very rich in his own right. It is said that he is an inveterate gambler, however.”

  The gentleman in question took out an enameled snuffbox, deftly opening it to make use of the contents. Aurora was impressed even as her nose wrinkled in distaste.

  Miss Ellison swiveled her head to the left. “The handsome gentleman speaking with Lord Castlereagh, on his right, is Mr. Eden Farnsworth. He is said to be involved in intrigue to do with the recent wars with Napoleon, but I think that to be nothing more than rumor,” she added in a whisper.

  Aurora silently agreed with her friend’s opinion. Mr. Farnsworth was surely too mild-looking a gentleman to have been involved in espionage.

  “The one on his left,” Ellie continued quietly, “with the unfashionably long black hair is the Duke of Derringer. Beware of him, my dear. It is said he is a rake of the first order. There are, in fact, so very many unsavory rumors about him that I would hope you would avoid him altogether.”

  “What rumors?” Aurora asked in spite of her dislike for harmful gossip.

  Ellie pursed her lips for so long a moment, Aurora didn’t think she would tell her. “It is believed that he has killed two men in duels, ruined more than one innocent, drinks heavily, gambles only in the most disreputable of gaming dens, and keeps several mistresses. His grandfather, the first duke, made his fortune in piracy. It is said that he amassed so much wealth, the King, for fear of the man, granted him the dukedom in a bid to keep the man loyal to the crown. Lady Watson said that the present duke is involved in some illegal activities just like his grandfather. No one dares to ask him outright, or accuse him of anything, but the rumors abound anyway.”

  To Aurora, none of it mattered. The man was a handsome gentleman, to be sure, and appeared every bit as dangerous as rumor claimed. Why, he wore nothing but black. Even his linen was black. To match his soul?

  Perhaps that would be to her advantage. Many a man would think twice before tangling with a peer of such appearance and reputation.

  She had to wonder, however, if such a man could be made to fall in love.

  “Why is he accepted here?” Aurora asked curiously.

  “Oh, his mother was bosom bows with Lady Sefton and he is very powerful for all he is only seven and twenty, nearly as powerful as his grandfather was. Lady Watson said none of it matters since the duke will die soon,” Miss Ellison told her young friend sotto voce. She was rewarded with a gasp at this little tidbit. “Apparently, his grandfather was killed by highwaymen when he was five and thirty. The second duke was four when he ascended to the title. He died in a boating accident when he was two and thirty, a year after his wife was found dead in their home near Folkestone. The present duke has held the title since he was seven.”

  “But his father and grandfather died in accidents. Why would that suggest he will die young, as well?” Aurora asked, frowning.

  Miss Ellison shrugged. “It is the way of gossip, I suppose. One will find intrigues where none exist.”

  “Oh,” was Aurora’s enlightened reply.

  Miss Ellison returned to indicating the notables present. “Conversing with Mrs. Drummond-Burrell and Princess Esterhazy is Lord Gideon, the Earl of Holt. I have heard nothing negative about that very handsome young man,” Ellie informed her. “He is vastly popular with ladies and gentlemen, never duels, rarely gambles, and patronizes only Weston, as you can plainly see.”

  The earl was standing with two of the patronesses of Almack’s, directly behind Lord Castlereagh’s group. He was a very handsome man with curly blond hair and sleepy brown eyes. He wore an immaculate burgundy jacket that stretched perfectly over his shoulders, a pale blue waistcoat embroidered with colorful birds of paradise, and skintight inexpressibles of dove gray. He appeared quite the peacock among crows. Aurora thought him too lazy to suit her, but Town didn’t seem to boast quite the number of eligible gentlemen she had hoped.

  A young man of quite astonishing size and good looks approached the men surrounding the foreign minister. He was greeted heartily and handed a glass of champagne by one of Lady Jersey’s many minions—the lady had decided to break with tradition and serve refreshments.

  Aurora stared at the boyishly handsome young man. He was dressed rather plain, she thought, in a jacket of dark green Bath superfine, biscuit colored pantaloons, and plain white waistcoat. He’d tied his starched white cravat in the Oriental and his curly dark brown hair was in fashionable disarray. But, oh my, did he look magnificent. She decided he would be absolutely delicious in whatever he chose to wear. So many gentlemen used padding to enhance their appearances but she suspected he was not one of them. Quite ridiculous since one could usually tell.

  She wondered what he looked like without all his finery.

  Her eyes widened in astonishment. Never, in over three years, had she wondered such a thing.

  She found herself contemplating what color his eyes were when the gentleman undergoing her perusal happened to glance around the room and catch her eye. Aurora’s eyes were still wide from her inappropriate thought and she blushed furiously when he gave her a questioning look, smiled and raised his glass to her. Turning away, she forced her breathing to calm. The man could use that smile as a weapon, she thought as she began to fan herself vigorously.

  “Rory, dear, do still your fan. You are declaring to the room that you are engaged,” Miss Ellison warned. “You are also wreaking havoc on your charming coiffure.”

  “I apologize, Ellie,” Aurora mumbled. She had tried to learn the intricate language of the fan but much of it eluded her in times of anxiety. To think, she had almost made a mull of her marriage prospects by fanning her flushed cheeks!

  She looked out of the corner of her eye at the young man who had so upset her equilibrium. He was gone. She made a disappointed sound in the back of her throat before she could stop herself.

  “Looking for me?” came a very deep voice from somewhere behind her.

  Aurora turned her head and looked up at the large man standing in the shadows. She attempted to stare him down—which was a difficult task considering he was so much taller and she couldn’t see his face very well. She could tell he was grinning, however.

  “Get rid of your companion,” he said low enough that Miss Ellison couldn’t hear.

  “Whatever for?” Aurora asked sharply. Ellie cocked her head and frowned at Au
rora’s tone. Miss Glendenning smiled innocently and patted her hand in a soothing gesture. Placated, Ellie returned her attention to the dowager on her other side.

  “I would talk to you,” was his reply.

  Aurora stuck her little button of a nose in the air. “That would not be wise, sir, as we have not been properly introduced.” She turned away from him and pretended to study the other guests.

  She heard a rustling of greenery behind her and assumed he had left her in peace. She didn’t care for the way his presence affected her breathing. Such feelings were dangerous. Acting on feelings like the ones she was currently enduring resulted in illegitimate offspring—as she knew all too well.

  ~~~~~~

  Levi approached his cousin Bri. He had to meet the pert little minx with the golden hair. If she wanted to do it all properly, so be it. He just prayed Bri or Adam knew the chit.

  They didn’t. Adam agreed she was beautiful; Bri scowled at her smiling husband and then agreed with both gentlemen. Lord Connor Northwicke and his wife approached the little group and after exchanging greetings, inquired as to the cause of Levi’s frown.

  “He wants to meet the pretty young lady near Lady Dunfield but no one seems to know her,” Adam supplied.

  Levi turned to leave, mumbling something about asking Lady Jersey to introduce them since the girl had obviously been invited.

  Lord Connor’s wife Verena stopped him. “I’ll introduce you to her, Levi,” she said softly.

  Her husband looked at her with raised brows. “Are you acquainted with her, love?”

  “A bit,” Verena answered evasively.

  The earl offered his arm to Connor’s wife and led her across the room. He chatted with her about her children until she relaxed. She’d tensed when he’d pointed out the girl he desired to meet. It was most odd.

  As he talked, he mused over the strange little lady with the even stranger eyes.

  When he had seen her wide-eyed perusal of him, he’d been amused. As he watched her, favoring her with the same treatment she had so recently given him, he decided he wouldn’t mind having her in his bed. After those few brief words he’d had with her, he decided he wouldn’t mind at all being married to the chit. She was unique and adorable. She would never bore him, of that he was sure.

 

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