by Mary Balogh
The marquess’s shoulders shook with quiet laughter. “I still fail to understand why you will not go after one of the Morrison females,” he said. “Each one of them is ten times as rich as the Fairhaven chit, I daresay.”
“But the younger one is sharp,” Lord Powers said. “She was onto my game the very first time I talked to her. I could tell. Besides, she is altogether too close to my little Judith. I cannot afford to have each discover that I am wooing the other. And as for the other sister, I think I prefer to keep my distance. As much as anything, I don’t believe any fortune would quite compensate for being landed with her for a lifetime.”
“You lack spirit, Basil,” the marquess said. “If I were only younger and more in health, now, I could enjoy the taming of that particular female.” He glanced sidelong at the redheaded female, and his shoulders shook again. “But to the point. Everything is arranged?”
“I have her eating out of my hand,” Lord Powers said. “She will meet me in Vauxhall, never fear. Then it will merely be to whisk her away, drive her about in a carriage for an hour or so before returning her there or to her home, make sure that her absence is noted by a large-enough number of people, and the deed is done. Neither Kincade nor the earl himself will be able to save her reputation except by marrying her to me.”
“Far too risky,” the marquess said. “Any brother with a moderately active brain would be able to think of a reason for the girl’s absence for an hour or so. She has to be missing for the whole of the night. And her reputation must not be merely tarnished. It must be ruined. You will bring her here. I shall arrange to be absent, of course. And you must seduce her, Basil. Force her, if necessary.” He laughed softly again. “I envy you. You have told me that she is pretty? How fortunate for you that on this occasion beauty and fortune go hand in hand.”
Lord Powers nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I like the idea. There will doubtless be tears and pleadings, but what does the chit have to complain about, after all? She fancies herself in love with me. And she will be marrying a title, and an even more illustrious one to follow when you decide to take yourself off.”
The marquess laughed heartily and looked at his mistress until she joined him in his mirth. “I plan to keep you waiting a while for that, boy,” he said. “Just a little while yet, Basil.”
***
Lord Kincade and Daisy were walking home, having watched Lord Doncaster stride off on his way to another appointment and Arthur drive away in the carriage with Judith and Rose. They had promised to set Rose down at Hanover Square.
“Well, Daisy,” he said, “your sister seems to have settled quite happily into London life. I am pleased with the friendship between her and Judith. Judith needs steadying, and it is so difficult for an older brother or sister to do it. From us any advice is seen as interference.”
“Yes,” Daisy said happily, “I am pleased for Rose too. And I am in hopes that Sir Phillip will declare himself soon. It will be such a splendid match for Rose. I am so happy for her. And as soon as her betrothal has been safely announced, we can put an end to ours.”
“Not too hastily,” he said. “I must forbid you to end our betrothal before you leave London, Daisy. And the matter is not even open for discussion. Your sister would suffer if you were still in town and under the shadow of scandal over a broken engagement. And my sister would suffer. Julia, I mean. She is very fond of you, and she is in a very delicate state of health at the moment—mental as well as physical. No, I am sorry, but you and I will have to put up with each other for a while longer yet.”
“Well,” Daisy said, “I daresay Sir Phillip will not speak up for a week or so yet, and by that time Julia’s confinement will be over. And once that is so, she will be able to countenance any disappointment beyond the nursery. Besides, once the baby is born, her husband will doubtless forgive himself and come home again.”
Lord Kincade laughed and looked down at her in some surprise. “You have not even met Ambrose, have you?” he said. “You have just analyzed him to perfection. Poor Ambrose.”
“I wonder,” Daisy said. “Was he christened ‘Poorambrose’? I should say ‘poor Julia’ was more to the point. But then men tend to have many weaknesses. Women have to learn to put up with them because women are far stronger.”
Lord Kincade looked down at her sidelong. “I refuse to be drawn, Daisy,” he said. “I absolutely refuse to be drawn. Good heavens, do you think that women are the stronger sex merely because they suffer childbirth?”
“No,” Daisy said. “Not just that. There is men’s embarrassment about being observed in the middle of a public spectacle, for example, especially when it might seem that a lady led them into it.”
Lord Kincade had still not turned his head, but his eyes were sharp on her. “Witch!” he said. “I have been drawn, haven’t I? Be very, very thankful, Daisy Morrison, that you do not have to spend the rest of your life with me. I can assure you that it might prove to be a very short one.”
She smiled dazzlingly up at him. “Perhaps I would be glad to die young if the alternative were to spend the rest of my life with you, Giles,” she said. “Have you thought of that?”
Lord Kincade turned to look down at her with narrowed eyes. And since they were at the foot of the steps leading up to the house on Hanover Square, and since he did not intend to go inside with her, having sent a message with Judith that he would be calling on Julia forthwith, and since he wasn’t thinking particularly rationally, he took her by the shoulders, bent his head, kissed her thoroughly on the lips, and bade her a good day.
Chapter 14
It was the following day that Daisy conceived her plan. It was true that she did not enter into it with a great deal of thought. Thought and logic were not her strong points. But by the end of the day instinct and chance and sheer ingenuity had all contrived together to give her a definite, or almost definite, scheme.
It had all started two evenings before when she had overheard, quite by accident, part of the conversation between Rose and Judith at the theater. Judith, the silly girl, was still in communication with Lord Powers. And it was perfectly clear to Daisy that he was trying to trap her into marriage. It was equally clear that Judith was flattered by his apparent devotion but that her feelings were not deeply involved.
Lord Powers was planning to do something on the night they were all going to Vauxhall. He was planning to compromise Judith so that her father would be forced to allow her to marry the man. And Judith, it seemed, was too dazzled by the romance and intrigue of the situation to resist it.
The problem for Daisy was how she was going to prevent such a disaster from occurring. She had rejected the idea of taking Judith aside and having a good talk with her. Young people can be remarkably stubborn when dealing with their elders, she knew. Her advice would probably only stir Judith on to do something that she did not really want to do in the first place. And she rejected the idea of confiding in Giles. She did not think that tact was one of his strengths. He would undoubtedly lock Judith up again and take other drastic measures that would result only in a hardening of his sister's resolve to defy him.
She thought of talking to Julia about the matter but did not want to add any worries to her friend under present circumstances. But the subject was brought to her mind again when the two of them were sitting and talking during the morning while Arthur took the two girls to see the Tower of London.
“I do believe a serious romance is developing between Judith and Colonel Appleby,” Julia said.
“He has been attentive to her,” Daisy said. “He is certainly a distinguished-looking gentleman.”
Julia sighed. “I have met him only once,” she said, “and that not recently. I would have taken a closer look if I had known that one day he would be interested in my sister. But I am pleased. I have heard good things about him. Giles says he distinguished himself at Waterloo last year and in Spain before that. Indeed, he has remarkably high rank for a man so young. Mostly, though, I am pleased be
cause I have been worried that Judith might never grow up and settle down. And of course there has been that dreadful business with Lord Powers.”
“That is all over?” Daisy asked.
“Well.” Julia hesitated. “I believe there are still some letters going back and forth, and that is always a potentially dangerous situation. But I think Judith's ardor has cooled. I hope that if I ignore the letters and Giles is sensible enough to leave matters well enough alone, the whole situation will sort itself out. And I really believe that she is growing fond of the colonel.”
“That is good,” Daisy said with a smile, and changed the subject.
She thought of her problem again when at a musical evening that night at Mrs. Sayer’s with Lady Hetty, Rose, and Sir Phillip Corbett. Lord Kincade had another engagement. Daisy, looking about her while a soprano with an alarmingly piercing voice sang an aria replete with sinuous trills and soaring crescendos, saw that Lord Powers was also present.
And since she was not particularly enamored of the music and could not merely get up and walk away and had nothing else to do with her mind, she continued to gaze at him until he looked up, caught her eye, and inclined his head. Daisy smiled dazzlingly, the plan beginning to form.
Perhaps Lord Powers was a little surprised when he rose to stretch at the end of the aria during the break before the baritone began his repertoire, to find as he looked around him for an acquaintance with whom to while away the time that Daisy was at his elbow, apparently similarly employed. Perhaps he noticed nothing strange about the situation at all.
“Good evening, ma’am,” he said with a slight bow.
Daisy smiled dazzlingly again. “It is disconcerting, is it not,” she said, “to be at a gathering like this and to find that one knows scarcely anyone?” Such an attitude, of course, did not explain why she would have left her own party under such circumstances.
Lord Powers, glancing almost absentmindedly down into her face, seemed suddenly arrested by something he saw there. He smiled. “Perhaps we should join forces, Miss Morrison,” he said. “Shall we go in search of some lemonade, and you shall tell me what you made of that last performance?”
Daisy took his proffered arm and looked up at him with wide-eyed gratitude. “I was rather wishing I had wads of cotton with which to stuff my ears,” she said. “But perhaps you enjoyed the performance, sir?”
Lord Powers laughed and squeezed her arm against his side briefly. “My sentiments exactly, ma’am,” he said.
And he found for the following ten minutes that Miss Daisy Morrison was an excessively amiable young lady who made conversation very easy by talking on and on herself. And it seemed that her favorite topic of conversation was her deceased papa and all his prosperous coal mines and all the jewels he had loved to buy for his three women, especially his elder daughter, on whom he doted—not that he did not love her mama and her younger sister, of course—and all the money he had left them, though to her pained embarrassment he had left her the lion’s share of his fortune.
“We did not dare bring too much with us to town, of course,” Daisy confided, fingering the pearls at her neck, “for fear of highwaymen. We brought only one servant with us. And indeed it was as well that we had taken such a precaution, for we were witnesses to the cowardly attack on Lord Kincade on the way here, and who knows but what we would not have been victims too if our carriage had been loaded down with even one-tenth of all our jewels.”
“Just so,” Lord Powers murmured, fascinated.
“But perhaps I bore you?” Daisy said, wide and innocent eyes gazing up into his. She bit her lip. “Lord Kincade says I talk altogether too much about myself and my jewels and my fortune. But you see, I was so very fond of poor Papa, and that is all I have left of him. I would give it all up if I could just have one hour with Papa again. But Lord Kincade does not understand that. He does not have a great deal of sensibility.” Daisy had to be content with the pathos of her words. She found that she could not squeeze a single tear anywhere near the vicinity of her eyes.
Lord Powers covered her hand with his. “I have wondered about your betrothal,” he said, all tender concern. “It was forced upon you, rather, was it not? And I am afraid that I was partly responsible, for had I not tried to humor Lady Judith by giving her a few minutes of my time at the Riplinger ball, you would not have been downstairs to take Kincade out of the way and become compromised yourself.”
“But if I was able to prevent trouble between you and his lordship,” Daisy said, “then the sacrifice was worthwhile, my lord, no matter how painful that sacrifice has been.” She smiled bravely.
Daisy considered it wise at the end of the ten minutes to decline an invitation to sit beside Lord Powers for the rest of the concert. It was true that even seated beside Lady Hetty, she was unable to let loose the whoops of laughter that threatened to disgrace her, but she felt that her acting skills had been stretched to the limit for one evening. She had, however, somehow managed to work into the conversation the seemingly irrelevant and quite untrue detail that she liked to walk in the park early each morning with only a maid for company. In the solitude of such surroundings she was able to remember more clearly her beloved papa.
That night, while Daisy lay awake, three pillows piled beneath her and her hands clasped behind her head, her papa acquired two—she gradually whittled down the number from five—diamond mines in South America and a gold mine somewhere in Africa. Daisy was not strong on geography—she hoped that there were such mines in those particular places. Although the mines had been sold for a large profit years before, she and Rose and her mama still possessed ten— was that an appropriate number?—gold bars each.
And her papa had given her on her twenty-first birthday— Daisy thought rather guiltily of the modest pearl necklace lying in a drawer across the room—a diamond so large and so flawless that all the diamond merchants he had consulted had been unable to put a price on it. There were also, of course, all the other diamonds—mere baubles—that had been made into necklaces and brooches and rings, probably with gold from the African mine.
Daisy shifted her position and threw one pillow on the floor beside the bed. The reason she was five-and-twenty and still unmarried was that she was always so afraid that the gentlemen who showed interest in her were mere fortune-hunters. How could she be sure of their intentions when her fortune would probably buy England twice over and the diamond would doubtless buy Wales and Scotland and Ireland ten times over to go along with it? She frowned. Was she exaggerating too much? A few tears would serve her purpose very well at that point. Daisy concentrated very hard, contorting her face, screwing up her eyes. Well, the words would have to suffice.
And now she had been forced into a betrothal with a near stranger. How could she know that in addition to being humorless and bad-tempered, he was not also a fortune-hunter? Her situation was truly tragic. Her aunt and her dear uncle were in Paris—and of course her beloved papa was dead—and dear Rose was so young and there was no one whose opinion she could trust. No one except...unless... Oh, those tears would be desperately needed.
Daisy yawned until her jaws cracked. Should she add a grandfather who owned a cotton mill in the north of England? Two? Five? No, better not to stretch the credibility of her story too far.
Giles had kissed her again that morning, on the cheek. He had come into Julia’s sitting room when she was still there, bent to kiss his sister, hesitated, and then crossed the room to kiss her too. It was getting to be a habit. A very silly habit, considering that they were starting to get a little on each other’s nerves, and considering that they had no intention of continuing their betrothal into the summer anyway. She must tell him the next time he came at her with the obvious intention of embracing her that she would really rather he didn’t.
Daisy yawned again, aloud and at great and satisfying length. Now, where had she been? Ah, yes. She was stretched out in bed, in a sweat-soaked bed, her lips raw with the effort of not screaming aloud and ala
rming Giles, who needed to remain calm. She had sent him to boil water, but he would be back soon to hold her hand and murmur soothing words to her. The wind howled outside and the sleet beat against the windowpanes. She thought her waters had probably broken. Her pains were coming thick and fast.
Daisy moved her hands from behind her head and spread them on her very flat abdomen. She smiled as Giles gently kissed her forehead and smoothed back her hair. Some minutes before their child was born, she slid into a peaceful sleep.
***
Rose was disappointed the following morning after making the journey alone to Lady Julia’s, apart from a maid, to find that her friend as well as her sister had deserted her. Judith, it seemed, had gone out shopping with Lord Kincade.
Arthur was with Julia, rubbing her back while she had her eyes closed, whether with weariness or in ecstasy, it was not immediately apparent to Rose.
“I do beg your pardon, ” she said. “I did not mean to disturb you. But I decided, when I was told that Judith is out, to pay my respects to you, ma’am,”
Julia smiled and moved away from her brother. “Do come and sit down,” she said. “Poor Arthur will be as glad as I when this child is born. Is Daisy not with you today?”
Rose frowned. “She went walking in the park,” she said, “because it is such a lovely morning,” She glanced doubtfully at the heavy clouds that were visible beyond the windows of the sitting room, as the other two did also. “And she declined company because it was too cold. Sometimes I find Daisy hard to understand.”
“We all need to be alone at times,” Arthur said gently. “I am sure Daisy does too. She certainly takes a great deal of responsibility on her own shoulders. Sometimes she must need to be just with herself.”
“Yes,” Rose said doubtfully before turning to Julia and inquiring politely after her health. But it was clear that that lady was indeed weary and out of spirits. After a decent few minutes had passed, Rose got to her feet again to take her leave.