A Dandy in Disguise

by Meredith Bond

  “No, you don’t!” Rose and St. John said simultaneously.

  St. John could not allow either Laia or her sister to go back to gambling with Lord Kirtland. If they had only lost one hundred pounds, they’d been lucky so far. But he could not allow them to risk any more money—money they clearly didn’t have. He remembered that Rose had told him that her family was financially strapped, but this wasn’t the way to remedy that. More and more, St. John was wishing that Rose had never become entangled with Kirtland. The only way for her to come out of Kirtland’s unmasking unscathed was for her distance herself from him right away. St. John just wasn’t sure how he was going to convince her to do so without jeopardizing his entire investigation, or their friendship.

  “But...”

  “No, Laia. I told you, gambling is not the way to pay that debt,” Rose said.

  “Please listen to your sister, Miss Laia. If you continue to gamble with Lord Kirtland, you will only get further and further into debt,” St. John said, grateful that Rose had learned this lesson quickly. Now it was up to her sister to do so.

  Laia looked from Rose to St. John, clearly at a loss. “But I was winning.”

  “I assure you, it wouldn’t have continued,” St. John said as gently as he could.

  “You don’t know that,” Laia said.

  “Yes, I do.” St. John stopped. He could not tell them what he had learned about Lord Kirtland. But how could he not?

  This assignment was becoming more onerous by the moment.

  But first things first. Laia had to go home.

  “Julian, I think now would be an excellent time for you to escort Miss Laia home.”

  Julian bowed to the young lady, who was still very reluctant to go.

  “Please, Miss Laia,” Julian said very gently but firmly, while holding out his arm for her to take.

  With a pout, she put her hood and mask back on. Taking his arm, she allowed him to escort her back into the house.

  Rose turned to St. John as soon as her sister was gone. “I don’t know how to thank you, St. John...”

  “You won’t thank me once you hear what I need to tell you.”

  He must have been frowning, for Rose continued. “What is it? Do you think that Laia’s reputation has already been destroyed by this? As long as no one finds out it was she...”

  St. John wiped the expression off his face. “No. It is not that. This concerns Lord Kirtland.” St. John took a deep breath. “Can you think of any reason why Lord Kirtland would want to win money from you, Rose?” He asked, delaying the inevitable. But indeed, He couldn’t figure out why Kirtland had involved Rose in the first place. Why had he targeted her? She was not an heiress.

  Rose paused, looking very confused. She shook her head slowly. “He has not won money from me; it was Mr. Aiken to whom I lost. Lord Kirtland was kind enough to write a vowel to him for me, which is how I came to owe the money to him instead.”

  St. John nodded. “Yes, but there still has to be a reason why he wanted you indebted to him.”

  And then it hit him. “Ah! It isn’t you he wants under his thumb, it must be Lord Pemberton–Howe.”

  “What? What are you...”

  St. John looked at Rose intently. “Kirtland is an archaeologist. He probably needs your father’s name to lend credit to his own archaeological aspirations.” And was it possible that Rose hadn’t confided the state of her family’s finances to Kirtland as she had done with him? That would explain it too if Kirtland thought she was wealthy.

  “Well, of course, he will receive any help he needs from my father. We are to be married.”

  “But you should not,” Fungy said bluntly.

  “But... what do you mean? I thought you were happy for me!” Her cheeks began to turn pink. “It was you who made it possible.”

  “I know! I am, well, I was happy for you.” St. John didn’t know how much he dared reveal, but he had to protect her.

  “And now?”

  “Now I have learned something that makes it impossible for you to marry him.” St. John took a deep breath and braced himself for any possible response—it was unlikely that she was going to take this with any sort of equanimity. “Rose, I am very sorry, but you need to end your engagement with Lord Kirtland.”

  “What? Why? St. John…”

  He took hold of her hands. “Please, Rose, just listen to me. You know I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t extremely important. You must break off your engagement.”

  “Actually, I believe it is your relationship with her which must be broken, Fotheringay–Phipps.”

  St. John spun around, pulling Rose behind him, to face Roland Egerton.

  “I don’t know what nonsense you are putting into my fiancée’s head, but I believe I’ve had enough of your interference in my life,” Lord Kirtland said, strolling toward them in a way that was entirely too menacing for St. John’s comfort.

  “Not nonsense, Kirtland. Sound advice,” St. John said standing his ground. He knew he was perfectly able to protect Rose, even though Kirtland had probably as much as thirty pounds on him. His fight with Merry had proven that he was a fully capable pugilist when necessary.

  Rose pulled her hand out of his grasp and stepped from behind him. Of course, he couldn’t protect her if she didn’t want to be protected, he realized with a sinking heart.

  She didn’t say anything, just looked from him to Kirtland and back again. He wished he could tell her what he knew. He wished he could accuse Kirtland to his face, right here, right now, but Lord Halsbury’s response to his note had reached him just as he and Julian had arrived at this little card party — specifically telling him to wait until Halsbury could arrive with the proper authorities.

  Lord Kirtland reached forward and took Rose’s hand. Tucking it into the crook of his arm as if he owned her. “Stay away,” he commanded Fungy. He turned and walked back into the party with Rose at his side.

  She didn’t say anything. Not a word. And St. John hadn’t been able to tell what she’d been thinking from her expression. Had she wanted to go with Kirtland? Had she even considered doing as St. John had said, despite his lack of a clear reason, and breaking it off with him?

  No. Her silence had said it all. She was, implicitly, sweetly, and with all the gentleness that was inherent in her, breaking things off with St. John.

  His heart sank to his feet. Perhaps it was better this way. She would be hating him soon enough when she learned what he was going to be accusing her fiancé of this evening.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ROSE sat, stitching quietly, in the corner of the drawing room. Every so often a tear would fall, unbidden, onto her work. She did not try to stop them.

  After the events of last night, both of her sisters had left her alone. She was certain that Laia was still upset that she had been forced to leave the party, and it was likely she’d told Thalia everything, including how unfair Rose and St. John had been to her.

  They sat with their backs to her by the empty hearth.

  But they didn’t know what had occurred after Laia had left.

  How could St. John have been so cruel to her last night? Didn’t he realize that Lord Kirtland was the only person who could save her family from financial ruin? And to ask her to break things off with him… for what reason? She just couldn’t fathom.

  He hadn’t had a chance to tell her why before Lord Kirtland had joined them, but she’d been so hurt by what St. John was asking her to do that she hadn’t been able to say anything. He knew she needed to marry for money. How could he put her in such a difficult position?

  She wasn’t doing this for herself. Her blinders about Lord Kirtland had come off the day they’d gone for a ride in the park with her sisters. But there was nothing she could do. She had to marry him. How could St. John do this to her?

  Rose put down her embroidery to blow her nose.

  She jumped as the drawing room door abruptly flew open, banging against the adjacent wall.


  “My dear...” Aunt Farmington nearly ran into the room and then stopped short. She scanned the room and then found Rose sitting in the corner.

  “Oh, my dear Rose, you simply would not believe what I have heard!” she exclaimed, walking briskly over. Rose had never seen the older woman move so quickly. Surely there was something seriously wrong.

  Rose stood up. “What is it, Aunt? What has happened?”

  Thalia and Laia had also jumped up at their aunt’s dramatic entrance.

  “Is it Papa? Has something happened to him?” Thalia cried.

  Aunt Farmington turned on the girl. “Your Papa? No, why, have you heard something?”

  “No, only you seem to be very upset about some news. I thought it might be...”

  “Oh, no. It is Lord Kirtland,” she said, turning back to Rose.

  “Lord Kirtland? What about him?” Rose asked.

  “He and Mr. Aiken have fled the country! Everyone is talking about it! Apparently the two of them have been working together to cheat at cards. They were caught last night at Lady Kemble’s card party by...” she paused dramatically. “You will never guess!”

  “Fungy?” Rose whispered.

  Aunt Farmington deflated. “Yes! How did you know?”

  “He mentioned something to me the last time I saw him,” she said. She knew her voice sounded hollow, but she simply could not gather up the emotional energy to put any life into it.

  Rose dropped back down into her chair. That’s what he had wanted to warn her about. Why he had told her to distance herself from Lord Kirtland. He knew what was about to happen. He had wanted to protect her.

  Her tear started flowing in earnest. He was trying to save her—yet again!

  “Oh, my dear, I am so glad that you were not present. It would have been beyond humiliating. Apparently, Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps was very clever about it,” her aunt said, warming to her story once again. “He asked Lord Kirtland to write down the name of his tailor, then when the authorities came, he showed that that handwriting and the handwriting of some note he’d written earlier incriminating himself matched!”

  Thalia and Laia both gasped and Rose noticed that they were both sitting at the very edge of their seats, obviously completely enjoying the story.

  “It was then that chaos broke out. Kirtland shoved Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps, while his accomplice, Mr. Aiken, shoved Lord Halsbury aside and they both escaped!” she finished dramatically.

  “Oh, what a shame!” Thalia exclaimed.

  “Thalia, that is not at all charitable,” Rose admonished, although she secretly had to agree considering how nasty Lord Kirtland had been to her and her sisters.

  “No, but I’m in complete agreement with her,” Laia said, nodding to their youngest sister.

  “Well, it is just a shame that the whole ordeal happened at all, is what I say. Nearly everyone knows that you were engaged to Lord Kirtland,” she finished turning back to Rose.

  “They do?” Rose asked, dismayed.

  Her aunt had the grace to look slightly discomforted. “Oh well, of course. We were all so happy that you’d made such a good match. Why, I must have told at least ten people — and then, of course, they would have gone about telling people, and well, you know how it is.”

  Lady Farmington tsked sadly and shook her head. “Who would have known that such a pleasant gentleman would do such a thing? And we all thought he was wealthy! Why, he must have been as poor as a church mouse!”

  “Not if he was cheating at cards,” Thalia said frankly. “That would have made him quite wealthy, I imagine.”

  “What are you going to do, Rose?” Laia asked.

  Rose felt as if her head was in a thick fog. She shook her head and sniffed back her tears, but she just could not focus her mind on the overwhelming news and its consequences. She over at her sister. “I don’t know. I’m not sure there is anything I can do.”

  “Well, no, of course not. The gentleman in question having fled the country, your engagement is, naturally, at an end.” Aunt Farmington said, handing Rose her handkerchief and then moving to sit down on the sofa now that her news was told.

  “Thalia, dear, ring for some tea,” her aunt requested, now sounding very tired.

  “That means that we no longer have a way to pay our bills,” Thalia pointed out needlessly as she walked to the door to pull the bell cord.

  “And there aren’t any other wealthy gentlemen for Rose to marry,” Laia added.

  “Not only that, my dears, but no man would even consider becoming engaged to your sister now. Well, at least not for a good long time. The stigma, you know,” Aunt Farmington added, wiping delicately at the corners of her eyes with another handkerchief she’d pulled from her reticule. “And I am afraid it may rub off on Thalia and Laia as well. None of you will have an easy time of it, I fear.”

  With that bit of news, Rose completely lost hold of the tenuous control over her emotions. A shot of pure anguish racked her body, and her sisters rushed to her side as a wracking sob burst from her.

  “I have failed,” she whispered through her tears, “I have failed you all!”

  “Oh, no, Rose.” Laia caressed her hair. “Not at all.” “You still have Fungy,” Thalia offered.

  Rose began to cry again, “No, I don’t. He told me to end my engagement, but Lord Kirtland overheard him and pulled me away. And I…I didn’t say anything. I just went with him.”

  “But why did you do something so stupid?” Thalia asked, bewildered.

  Rose just shook her head and scrubbed at her tears. “Lord Kirtland is all that we have... all that we had standing between us and the poor house, or, or debtor’s prison. I don’t...didn’t want to marry him, I had to marry him. How could St. John not have known that? Why didn’t he tell me what Lord Kirtland had done earlier? I would have broken my engagement with him if I had known.” Rose hit her leg with her fist, her tears turning to anger.

  “I thought Fungy loved you,” Laia said, wiping her own tears from her cheeks.

  “He is horrible,” Thalia agreed vehemently. “Some friend he turned out to be! Why I could...”

  “No, Thalia,” Laia interrupted her.

  “You can’t do anything, Thalia. I don’t even know what I can do,” Rose said, trying to hold back a fresh wave of tears and failing miserably.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ST. JOHN sipped at his brandy. He hadn’t taken the time to enjoy the quiet, unobtrusive company at Whites in a while. But then, he had been rather preoccupied the past few weeks.

  He nearly laughed to himself at the understatement, and if things had worked out differently perhaps he would have actually laughed. But not now.

  He could not fathom how he was going to live without seeing Rose. He knew, of course, that she would never want to see him again after he was responsible for ruining her life. He had known when he’d asked her to break her engagement that he would be risking his friendship with her. He’d had to try to save her, and perhaps he would have succeeded if Kirtland hadn’t chosen that exact moment to step in.

  Despite everything, though, he still loved her. She had become a vital part of his life, so much so that just the thought of never seeing her again—

  St. John finished off the rest of the brandy in one gulp.

  His only hope at this point was that her silence hadn’t been as condemning he’d thought. Perhaps she just couldn’t have said anything? Perhaps if he’d had a chance to explain…

  St. John nearly jumped as a voice intruded into his thoughts. “Fungy, what are you doing sitting here all alone?” Sin settled into the chair beside him, as St. John sank back into his..

  Mustering up a smile, he glanced over at Sin. “Just enjoying a moment’s peace.”

  “Been busy since that whole Kirtland business, I suppose?”

  “Yes. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked to repeat the story of how I figured out that it was he who was leading the gambling scheme.”

  Merry and Julia
n walked over and joined them with a footman and a bottle of brandy in tow.

  “Must be hard being a hero,” Merry laughed, sitting down and pouring out the brandy for all of them.

  St. John paused and looked for a moment at Sin, Merry, and Julian.

  This was the way it was supposed to be, he thought to himself. This was right. He was in pain, and in need of companionship and perhaps some good, sound advice. He was in need of his friends—and here they were, without fail.

  What a relief it was, after all his doubts! His heart felt immeasurably lighter than it had been not five minutes ago.

  St. John smiled for just an instant and shook his head. “I’m not a hero. I was doing a job I was asked to do.”

  “Speaking of which, I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Cousin!” Merry said, putting down the bottle before he had finished filling all of the glasses.

  St. John held up his hands preemptively. “I plead innocence.”

  “How could you have accepted a position to work with Parliament without telling any of us?”

  “Well, it wasn’t really with Parliament, just with Halsbury.”

  “Yes, and he was working on Parliament’s behalf.”

  St. John shrugged. “It was a secret investigation. I couldn’t tell you.”

  As Merry picked up the brandy bottle once more, Sin commented, “I just can’t believe you’ve let us go on believing you to be nothing more than a society buck—and all this time you’ve been ferreting out master criminals.”

  St. John felt his old resentments flash to the surface. But he knew that Sin meant well, and so forced himself to speak lightly. “Well, if you’d remember, I haven’t always been so consumed by fashion. There was a time when I was more concerned with my studies than even you were about yours.”

  Sin and Merry began laughing. “I remember those days!”

  “My God, what a bore you were at times, harping on about reading this playwright or that philosopher! At least you did take time out to have some fun with us every so often.” Merry shook his head.