First Earl I See Tonight--A Debutante Diaries Novel

by Anna Bennett

  Dear God. She’d discovered her blackmailer. And he was the very last person in the world she wished it to be.

  “Good. One can’t be too careful.” Mr. Kirby swirled the brandy in his glass and took a sip. “I hope the ordeal is behind you soon—and that you never hear from the scoundrel again.”

  Fiona’s heart pounded, fueled by a potent combination of fury and fear. “But it’s you. You are the scoundrel, are you not? I never revealed the details about the blackmailer’s instructions.”

  In the blink of an eye, Mr. Kirby’s expression slid from concerned to alarmed to menacing. “You must be overwrought, Miss Hartley. Delusional. If you’ll recall, I’ve been trying to assist you,” he said through gritted teeth. “I merely guessed at the particulars of the blackmailer’s instructions—which are rather clichéd, when you think on it.”

  Fiona glanced over her shoulder. Mama, the countess, and Lady Callahan sipped claret near the fireplace, while Sophie and Lily mingled with the gentlemen across the room. Surely no harm would come to her in such a genteel setting—but she shivered nonetheless.

  She’d exposed Mr. Kirby. Backed him into a corner. And a tingling at the base of her spine told her he was more dangerous than ever. Still, this was no time to back down.

  “I’d already deduced the blackmailer was present at this house party,” Fiona said. “You’ve simply confirmed what I didn’t want to believe—that Gray’s oldest and closest friend would stoop to such treachery. What perplexes me is why. Why would you do it?”

  “I’ve a gambling habit to support.” Kirby snorted. “Your family has money to spare.”

  She raised her chin and crossed her arms to keep her hands from trembling. “When Gray learns what you did he’s going to be livid.”

  Mr. Kirby snarled and took a step closer. “He’s not going to learn the truth,” he ground out, his tone lethal.

  “He most certainly will.” Fiona ignored the panic rising in her chest. “If he were in this room, I’d tell him right now.”

  Mr. Kirby shot her a terrifyingly smug smile. “That would be a mistake.”

  “Do you imagine for one second that he’ll take your side? He’s the man I intend to marry. And he deserves to know what sort of person you are, even if the news will crush him.”

  “It would,” he said evenly. “But there’s something that would devastate him even more—should it become widely known. An unpleasant incident that could be dredged up. A sordid bit of information that could put all of Gray’s property, including the Fortress, in jeopardy.”

  Fiona swallowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “His father’s suicide, of course. I witnessed it with my own eyes. Felt his blood splatter on my skin. I’ve never mentioned it because of the obvious legal implications—property forfeit to the Crown, et cetera. Besides, I thought it best to spare Gray and his dear grandmother the shame and heartache of having the old earl’s body exhumed and buried at a crossroads with a stake through his heart.”

  “You…” Fiona clenched her fists till her nails dug into her palms. “You are a hateful, opportunistic, self-centered scoundrel. And you won’t manipulate me. I don’t believe you’d betray Gray that way. You’re bluffing.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, sweeting.” Mr. Kirby’s eyes turned cold and empty. “You see, I’ve nothing to lose. I borrowed some money from a rather unscrupulous gentleman who will send his henchmen after me if I don’t repay him—soon. I’ve seen what happens to other fellows who’ve neglected to make their payments on time, and let’s just say there’s an excellent chance I would not survive the late penalty.”

  “Surely you have a better option than blackmail,” said Fiona, making one last valiant attempt at reason.

  “I don’t, actually. That’s why I must insist that you end your relationship with Gray and provide the money I demanded in exchange for my silence. If you don’t leave the money when and where I’ve instructed, the London Hearsay will have not one, but two, extremely salacious stories in its next edition. Headlines mentioning whores and suicides invariably sell lots of papers. There’s nothing the ton loves better than a spectacular fall from grace.”

  Fiona’s knees wobbled. “I can’t break off my engagement to Gray.”

  Mr. Kirby sipped his brandy, seemingly unperturbed. “Then I hope he’ll be able to forgive you for allowing the scandal about his father to surface—and for placing the Fortress in jeopardy.”

  Heaven help her, Mr. Kirby was heartless. But perhaps she could appeal to his practical side. “I need my dowry money if I’m to have any hope of paying you off.”

  “You seem like a resourceful girl,” he said snidely. “You’ll think of another way to come up with the funds.” His gaze flickered over her throat, turning hungry at the sight of her mother’s jewels.

  She fought back a wave of nausea. “I will try.” What choice did she have? “But you must swear to me that you’ll never reveal what you know—about my sister or Gray’s father.”

  “I would not take pleasure in destroying either your sister or Gray, Miss Hartley. But I will if necessary. If you want this nightmare to end, simply deliver the money to me as I’ve requested—and stay the hell away from Gray.” He threw back the rest of his brandy, set his snifter on the sideboard, and adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. “Do try and enjoy tonight’s ball. We wouldn’t want Gray or the others to suspect that anything’s amiss.”

  Fiona managed a nod. She desperately wanted to flee the room and put some distance between her and Mr. Kirby before she did something rash like slap his face or smash a decanter over his head.

  But the truth was she already knew in her heart what she must do. What she would do.

  If the only way to save Lily and Gray was to pay off Mr. Kirby and end her relationship with Gray, then she would do both those things.

  Even if it meant giving up her mother’s necklace.

  Even if it meant breaking Gray’s heart—and her own.

  She’d thought she’d have a lifetime to love Gray, but it turned out she had only one more night.

  One night … to say good-bye.

  Chapter 28

  Fiona’s father was not what Gray had expected. Though Hartley had silver at his temples and stood several inches shorter than Gray, he appeared strong enough to hold his own in any pub brawl. Unlike his wife, he seemed wholly unconcerned with impressing anyone, and he spoke plainly and directly.

  Which Gray respected.

  He welcomed the older man into his study and offered him a seat in the leather armchair beside the fireplace. Suddenly feeling like a lad of eighteen, Gray loosened his cravat and rolled his shoulders. Forced himself to relax. “Care for a drink?”

  Hartley nodded as he settled himself into the chair. He cast an eye about the study, no doubt taking in the dusty bookshelves and faded carpets. “You don’t seem like the sort of man who spends a lot of time behind his desk.”

  Unsure whether the statement was meant to be a criticism or compliment, Gray shrugged. “I prefer to work outside, even if it means getting my hands dirty. But I don’t neglect my duties as an earl.” He splashed brandy into a pair of snifters.

  “Glad to hear it.” Hartley took the glass that Gray offered and sipped thoughtfully. “I wasn’t sure why my daughters were so eager to have me join them here,” he began. “But after seeing Fiona at dinner, I think I know.”

  Gray’s chest squeezed at the mention of her. “Oh?”

  “I would have had to be blind not to notice the way she looked at you—and the way you looked at her. I confess the sight filled me with both delight and dread.”

  Gray sank into the armchair across from Hartley and looked at him earnestly. “I understand your ambivalence. You do not know me well, and you want the best for your daughter. But I care for her greatly and very much want to marry her.” It was such a relief to say the words—to have his intentions out in the open. “I promise to take care of Fiona and do everything in my power to make her
happy. I’d like to humbly ask for your blessing.”

  Hartley said nothing but continued to stare at Gray expectantly. As if he was waiting for Gray to say more.

  When the prolonged silence grew uncomfortable, Gray added, “She would become a countess, of course, a title with a host of responsibilities, but she’d still have plenty of time for sketching and enjoying the company of family and friends. We’d spend most of the year in London, and you and your family would be welcome there as well as here at the Fortress—whenever you please.”

  Hartley shot him a wistful smile. “Why do you want to marry Fiona?”

  Gray set his snifter on the table beside him and leaned forward. “Because she’s kind, talented, beautiful…”

  “And?” Hartley prodded.

  Fiona’s father wasn’t going to let Gray off easily, damn it, and Gray didn’t blame him. But for him, talking about emotions was like speaking in a foreign tongue. The best he could do was focus on the way Fiona made him feel and hope his sentences were coherent.

  Gray stood and paced the length of the study as he spoke. “She challenges me to see the world in a different—more thoughtful—way.”

  “Go on,” Hartley said.

  “She smiles and a cold, dreary room feels like a sunny summer day. And though she has an adorable tendency to stumble and trip on occasion, she possesses unexpected grace in little things.”

  “Like?”

  Gray stroked his chin, thoughtful. “Like the tender way she dotes on an elderly woman … and the courageous way she faces her fears.” Hell, he’d said more than he intended—all of it true. But there was something else he hadn’t said. Hadn’t even realized until that very moment.

  He loved her.

  He hadn’t thought it possible. Hadn’t thought himself capable. But over the course of the last two weeks, something deep inside him had changed.

  The frozen tundra that was his heart had melted—because of Fiona.

  Hartley cleared his throat, and his eyes grew suspiciously shiny. “She’s special, my Fiona. Made of strong stuff. We were all heartbroken when her mother died, but Fiona took it particularly hard, crying herself to sleep every night for at least a year. Then one morning at breakfast she said to me, ‘Papa, I dreamed of Mother last night. She told me that I mustn’t cry anymore. She said I must be brave and take care of you and Lily … so that’s what I intend to do.’”

  “That sounds like Fiona,” Gray mused. “Selfless and determined.”

  “I’ve tried to give her the best of everything, to do what was best for her and Lily, even when that required me to step back a bit and let her stepmother take the reins. Looking back, I fear that, more often than not, I let Fiona down.”

  “With all respect, sir, you judge yourself too harshly. I happen to know she adores you.”

  Hartley inhaled deeply and shook his head as if to clear it. “If she does, it’s in spite of my myriad mistakes. The point is, Fiona deserves to be happy and cherished. She deserves to be loved.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, sir.”

  “I want the world for my daughter, and she, apparently, wants you. I will give you my blessing under this one condition: You swear that you will have a care with her heart.”

  Gray exhaled, relieved. “I swear. You have my word.” He stood and extended his arm for a handshake, surprised when the older man embraced him and patted him on the back gruffly instead.

  “Your life is about to change in the best possible ways, Ravenport. If anyone can brighten up this dark, musty castle, Fiona can. You’d be a fool to underestimate her.”

  Gray clasped Hartley’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Fiona, it’s to never, ever bet against her.”

  * * *

  By the time Fiona slipped into the ballroom, men and women dressed in their finery had already started streaming in, craning their necks and exclaiming over the unique and delightful decorations adorning the walls. Gray and his grandmother were stationed by the room’s main entrance, graciously greeting their guests—mostly villagers and neighbors from nearby estates—as they entered.

  The atmosphere was everything a ball should be: festive, merry, and a little magical.

  It was also precisely the opposite of what Fiona felt inside. But there was no one she could confide in. No one could know the secrets Mr. Kirby had threatened to reveal—or that he’d threatened her at all. Determined to make the most of her last night at the Fortress, she’d pinched her cheeks and smoothed her hair before entering the ballroom through the terrace doors.

  “There you are!” Mama exclaimed, looping an arm through Fiona’s and pulling her into the throng. “I was just about to send Lily in search of you. I spoke with your father briefly—he told me the good news about Ravenport. Just imagine—my daughter, the countess.” She fanned her face with one hand as though shooing away impending tears of joy.

  “Please, Mama, do not raise your hopes prematurely.” Fiona felt like her heart was cracking open. “Nothing is official. No announcement has been made.”

  And no announcement would be made. As soon as she had an opportunity to pull Gray aside, she’d tell him she wasn’t ready to make their betrothal public. She wasn’t certain what reason she’d give for her sudden reluctance after she’d shamelessly pursued him, constantly reminding him that time was of the essence.

  But she’d think of something.

  “My dear,” Mama said, incredulous. “Do not be daft. Lord Ravenport has asked for your hand. This is a most encouraging development, an undeniably auspicious occasion, an exceedingly—”

  “Hasn’t Sophie done a remarkable job with the decorations?” Fiona interrupted, desperate for a change of subject. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a fairy or sprite mistook the ballroom for her very own enchanted forest.”

  Mama gave her a sharp look. “You’ll not spoil this evening for me, Fiona. This is the moment we’ve been working toward. All those years at Miss Haywinkle’s, the endless strategizing, the kowtowing to people who consider themselves our betters—”

  “But I never—”

  Mama yanked Fiona’s arm back so that she turned, and they stood toe to toe. “This isn’t only about you.”

  Her stepmother was right. It wasn’t. It was about Lily and Papa and Gray, too. Fiona had to do what was right for all of them. But since a tiff with Mama was the last thing she needed, she took a conciliatory tone. “You’re right, of course, and I won’t forget it. I suppose I’m simply a bit nervous. But I do think it best to rein in our excitement and remain outwardly cool.”

  Mama raised her brows. “Very well. You have managed to string the earl along this far. Now that the finish line is in sight, see that you don’t botch it.”

  Fiona prickled at the implication that she’d been manipulating Gray but bit her tongue. “Yes, Mama.” She was about to excuse herself in order to seek out Lily and Sophie when her stepmother sucked in her cheeks and narrowed her eyes.

  “Who is that woman?”

  Fiona followed the direction of Mama’s wary gaze to the ballroom’s main entrance where a beautiful young lady gracefully extended her hand to Gray. He bowed over it and looked up at her with barely concealed curiosity—and as he did, a sick, uneasy sensation slithered up Fiona’s spine.

  “I believe that’s Lady Helena,” she breathed, “to whom Lord Ravenport was once engaged.”

  “What is she doing here?” asked Mama, echoing the question in Fiona’s head.

  “Forgive me for intruding upon your conversation.” Lady Callahan scurried toward them, dragging her gaze away from the earl and Lady Helena. Indeed, it seemed half the ballroom was fixated on the pair, amazed that the woman who’d scorned Gray not a month earlier now waltzed into his ball as though she were an esteemed guest of honor. “I overheard you asking about Lady Helena. I’m told her uncle owns a neighboring estate. When he inquired as to whether his relatives might accompany him tonight, the countess politely agreed. But I
’m sure she never dreamed the woman who jilted her grandson would have the audacity to make an appearance.”

  “And yet here she is,” whispered Fiona.

  “Never fear,” Mama said, in a rare attempt to bolster her. “You outshine her in every respect. Her dress and jewelry cannot compare to yours.”

  Perhaps not, but Helena didn’t need those adornments to shine. She wore a simple, elegant gown of white silk with silver embroidery on the sleeves and at the hem—the kind of gown that enhanced one’s beauty instead of competing with it. But it wasn’t her flawless complexion or golden curls that inspired envy in Fiona. Rather, it was her confidence and grace. Fiona would bet her favorite pearl earrings that Helena had never been so gauche as to fall off a rock or trip over her own feet in a public venue.

  Helena had been born and bred as a proper lady, endowed with a natural elegance that could never be replicated in someone like Fiona—despite all Miss Haywinkle’s valiant attempts.

  Fiona swallowed the bitter taste in her throat, reminding herself that none of it mattered. After Mr. Kirby’s latest threat, she couldn’t marry Gray anyway.

  For once, she was grateful that he hadn’t fallen head over heels in love with her as she had with him. It would make it easier to deliver the news that she couldn’t wed him. He’d no doubt be shocked and a bit hurt, but he’d recover.

  Long, long before Fiona would.

  Chapter 29

  Receiving lines were one of the great many reasons Gray was opposed to hosting balls. He’d shaken more hands and made more polite conversation in the last hour than he had in the entire last year. All he wanted to do was find Fiona and tell her about the meeting with her father.

  He’d been considering what Hartley said—about wanting what was best for Fiona and feeling as though he’d failed her. It seemed her father regretted the distance that had grown between him and his daughters as much as Fiona did. Perhaps if Fiona confided in him about the blackmail, they could work together to prevent a scandal … and in doing so start to mend the rift.