“I could have married her off well before, you know,” he reminded her.
“Yet you didn’t, so why now, and to him?”
“Enough, Eloisa. Don’t insult him,” Charles begged. He darted a fearful look at the lord, whose maroon waistcoat strained over his bulging midsection. “You have no idea just how far gone I went at the tables last month,” he explained in a hushed voice. “If Everly hadn’t intervened and covered my debt…”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to hear your maudlin tale again.” Perhaps a throttling was too good for him. He needed a right good slap across the face to wake him up from the destruction of his life. “You never learn and you never listen. At this rate, you’ll bankrupt us all and then what?”
“You don’t understand.” Desperation lined his face. “I have no choice.”
“Oh, posh. Everyone has a choice. Why can you not sell the London town house and pay Lord Everly off with the proceeds?”
“I…” Charles slanted his gaze away.
A horrid thought occurred to her. It tightened her stomach. “Dear heavens, you don’t own the property in London any longer, do you? That’s the real reason we had to remove to Brighton, not for your wife’s health.”
Beside her, Helen gasped. “Oh no!”
Everything made sense now. The hasty departure from London to Brighton. Doddering Aunt Beatrice having been pressed upon to do the accounts instead of making use of the man of business Charles usually used. The refusal of her sister-in-law to entertain lest the gossips glean information about their reduced situation. The knowledge she and Helen were not to order dresses, gowns, or hats this year and that he’d revisit the feasibility of such at the time of the Little Season, not that they usually partook of London’s social scene anyway.
She stared at her brother as the truth dawned. “What did you do?” She barely managed to force the question out from through clenched teeth.
High color blazed in Charles’ cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
“What happened?” Now that the truth was out, Eloisa wanted all of it. She clutched Helen’s hand. “Now, if you please.”
He fixed his gaze to the rather shabby carpet. “Three months ago I lost my purse in my last game of cards for the night. I’d been drinking and wasn’t thinking clearly, but I’d honestly thought I’d had a good hand. I couldn’t tell Cecilia what I’d done. She’d already warned me about my habits.”
“Go on.” She wouldn’t give him quarter.
“I thought I could win it all back with no one the wiser.” Charles rallied and his voice grew stronger. “I snuck back to White’s after everyone went to bed. I wagered it all—the property, most of what I had in the bank, some of Cecilia’s family jewelry. All I needed was one great hand. And I had that.”
“Fool. No one is that lucky when they’re pockets are already to let.” She frowned. “You lost, and I’m assuming to him?” She gestured with her thumb to Lord Everly.
“Not right away. I was actually winning.” A ghost of a smile crossed Charles’ face. “Then, he kept upping the stakes. Running scared I thought, but then I couldn’t match the raises, and I…” He shoved a hand through his thinning blond hair. “I put Helen on the altar.”
“And Lord Everly had the better hand.” Of course he did. Charles wasn’t the expert at any of the games he thought he was. “I honestly thought better of you.”
At that moment, Everly waddled over. “The lure of the gaming tables doesn’t discriminate, Miss Hawthorne.” He grinned, and his two chins quivered. “Now, I’ll advise you not to meddle in affairs you don’t understand.”
“How can you say that?” She shot to her feet, anger heating her insides. “I will fight with my dying breath to keep my sister out of your clutches.”
When the lord laughed, his belly jiggled. “How very Gothic of you, my dear.” The sunlight made his nearly bald scalp gleam as pink as a baby rat. “You should be glad for your sister’s future. She’ll have elevated status, will be a lady and have everything she’s ever wanted. She’ll be the toast of London for her beauty and status.”
“At what cost?” Eloisa asked softly. She’d no idea their coffers were as empty as they were. No way would this man accept a plea or a promise for Helen’s freedom.
“Well, the cost to me is high, but at least I won’t send Charles to the poorhouse or debtor’s prison, and neither will you have to become someone’s poor relation.” Lord Everly’s chuckle echoed in the silent room. “Your sister will bear sons, hopefully, and I’ll install her in the country, where she won’t be able to cause many ripples in my life in London. She’ll be the envy of rural life and will run the estate as she pleases.”
Sour bile hit the back of Eloisa’s throat. Helen squeezed her hand tightly. “What would it take for you to void the bargain?”
Both Everly and Charles looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Obviously, pay me every farthing your brother owes,” the lord rejoined. “There really isn’t anything else. I’m a man of some discernment, Miss Hawthorne. It’s my responsibility as an upstanding member of the ton to uphold the dignity and distinction that separates the titled from the not. Some men need to understand there are consequences to their actions.” His voice went hard. “I expect the wedding will be planned straightaway.” His chuckle sounded like ominous thunder. “Nuptials in a month’s time and no need for a special license. No exceptions.” He swept the room with his beady-eyed gaze then rested them on Helen. “I’ll be in touch.”
“I cannot believe this is happening to me!” Helen burst into noisy tears then left the room from a different door than Lord Everly had used.
“Well, that’s a fine turn of events.” Eloisa turned to her brother, but he hung his head. “You are nothing but a coward, Charles. A dismal coward, that’s what. Allowing your baby sister to be married off to that pig of a man and you watch like you’ve got no sense.” She shook her head. “I’m going upstairs to think upon this more. You may have abandoned Helen, but I shall not.” With a quivering chin and tears stinging her eyes, she marched upstairs and didn’t allow a collapse until she was hidden behind her closed door.
A scratching at her bedroom door came accompanied with a discreet throat clearing. “Miss, Viscount Tralsburg is in the parlor,” her housekeeper announced in a puzzled voice. “He claims he’s here on a matter of some import.” Since Charles’ reduced circumstances meant staff cutbacks, the housekeeper had to serve in the butler’s capacity at times.
As she sat up in bed, Eloisa rubbed her eyes. A headache pounded slightly in her forehead, and she still hadn’t a blessed clue how to solve Helen’s problem. That horrible meeting with Lord Everly had happened hours ago, but nothing she thought of could be considered as a solution. If only Peter had still been alive. He’d know exactly what to do. Alas, she’d need to figure it out herself. She looked at the tall, thin woman who hovered in the doorway. “Thank you, Gladys. Tell him I’ll be down directly.”
“Very well, miss. And…” The woman lowered her voice even more. “He’s brought a child with him.”
As if this was a development worse than appearing naked at the door.
Despite the miserable cloud that had descended, Eloisa smiled. “Thank you for the warning.” Her mood lifted slightly to know Daniela was with Oliver. Perhaps the child could take her mind off her current circumstances, and if she laughed, all the better.
Once the housekeeper left her alone, Eloisa rose from bed, smoothed the wrinkles from her moss green day gown as best she could, patted her hair back into its bun then left the room. Just before descending the stairs, she pinched her cheeks to prompt color into them but still felt she looked a fright after her crying earlier. A sigh escaped. How silly of me. It didn’t matter. This was merely a polite call from a neighbor. Nothing earth shattering and she didn’t need to look her best.
By the time she entered the parlor, her headache kept time to her footfalls and the sadness she carried for Peter had intensified. There
were times in a woman’s life when all she wanted was to be held by a man, kept safe in his arms and be told everything would work out right in the end—even if it wouldn’t. As she stifled the urge to cry, she shoved thoughts of him away. Now wasn’t the time for maudlin memories or chasing what-ifs. He was gone and there would never be another like him.
When her gaze landed on Oliver, sitting stiffly on the faded pink, crushed velvet settee with Daniela prim and proper beside him in a lace-trimmed, navy dress, the cloudy thoughts scattered. How domestically adorable! “I assume that since you’re here with Daniela, you and she have called a truce?” she asked as she swept over the shabby Oriental rug. Did he notice their furnishings weren’t new or even stylish anymore, thanks to Charles and his abominable handling of his coin? Immediately, the girl squirmed off the furniture then ran to her.
“Isa!” She wrapped her arms around Eloisa’s leg.
What a darling nickname. “Hello, poppet. How are you?” Eloisa smiled at the welcome. There simply wasn’t anything better than being greeted with enthusiasm from a child. The problem of having promised Peter her life was the fact she’d never have a child of her own, never collect small moments such as this. As her heart twisted with grief, she did her level best to mask her pain. No need for the viscount to question her about that too.
“I want to play.” She pointed to a doll, previously hidden by her skirting, that remained behind on the settee. “Do you?”
“Perhaps later. First, I’d like to find out why you and Oliver are here.” She glanced across to the viscount, who’d stood with an expression that bespoke mischief and devilish entertainment. Her stomach trembled. “What happened?”
“Calm yourself. Nothing untoward has occurred,” Oliver stated as he came forward. “Come and sit with me a moment. I believe I have the answer to your sister’s unfortunate problem. At the same time you can help me.”
“Oh?” Her heartbeat rushed hard through her veins. She followed him to the settee then handed Daniela the doll before seating herself. Oliver rested beside her, entirely too close. His leg nearly touched hers. “I’m anxious to hear.”
“First, have you saved your sister from her fate yet?” His expression suggested she couldn’t have achieved such a goal by herself.
She quelled the urge to make a face. Of course she couldn’t save her sister. Drat the man for knowing her too well. “No. I did meet with Lord Everly this morning, but beyond Charles suddenly procuring an indecent amount of funds within a few weeks, he’s unwilling to release Helen from my brother’s promise.” Saying it out loud made the predicament all too real. Her stomach churned. She blinked away the tears stinging her eyes. “I can’t help but think I’ve failed her.”
“Then what I have to say will put you to rights again.” Oliver’s grin widened. “I’m aware this will come as a shock, but as we’re both in mutual need and time is of the essence, this is the best solution.”
“Yes, and?” Why wouldn’t he just get to it? Awareness raced over her skin. The heat of his body seeped into hers. It would have been pleasant had she not been in such a brown study.
“Miss Hawthorne, will you marry me?” Amusement danced in his blue eyes.
“I… I beg your pardon?” Flutters filled her belly and her pulse grew erratic. She stared at him, feeling very much the simpleton. “Did I hear you correctly?” He must be mad to propose. She forced down a swallow. “Are you quite well?” She’d had only one other proposal, and that had come from Peter on the night she’d given herself to him before he left to fight for England. His proposal hadn’t made her head swim or made tingles to play her spine. His proposal had been nice, and gentle and comfortable, almost expected since they’d courted for years before that.
“Hear me out.” Oliver turned to her and his knee crashed into hers. A jolt of sensation sprang up her leg and embedded itself between her thighs. “It’s maddening when you look at it on the surface. However, I can secure the coin you’ll need to free your sister.”
Her jaw hung open. She closed it with a snap as her eyebrows rose. “What…?” She trailed off, scarcely knowing what question to ask from the many clouding her brain. “What do you gain from the bargain?” It was a good inquiry as any.
“Honestly?”
She nodded. “If this will be a strictly business arrangement, for I think that would be the best policy.” Though how crass it was to throw an engagement into a business proposition.
“My mother is good at one thing: bedeviling her children into marriage. She’ll stop at nothing until we’re all wed and have begun propagating the species. Probably won’t quit nagging even then until we’ve produced a handful of brats. One or two won’t be enough for her.” A trace of bitterness infused the words. “So, what I gain is the temporary reprieve from my mother’s machinations. For all intents and purposes, you and I will enter into an engagement.”
“I see. Will we need to do the pretty and act as a happy couple?” Could one pretend well enough to fool someone as intelligent as Mrs. Darrington? Eloisa had heard the woman was as determined as anyone in setting up her legacy.
“If the occasion calls for it.” Oliver shook his head at Daniela when she would have pulled her skirt up. “A handhold here, a stately peck on the cheek there. Making use of an endearment or two around various family members or anyone else.”
Eloisa chewed her bottom lip. “When will you present the funds to Lord Everly?”
“At the end of the contracted period.” Despite the humor in his eyes, his expression drifted into hard lines. “After all, we don’t know each other well, and how do I know you won’t leave Brighton after the money changes hands, leaving me without your end of the bargain fulfilled?
Ah, now there was the cool attitude of the viscount she’d wondered at. A thrill went down her spine. “Very shrewd. How long will the contract last?”
“Thirty days should be enough time to trick my mother. Plus, we’ll need to distract Lord Everly somehow. Mayhap we can secure all of this before then, I have no idea. No doubt there will be events you and I will need to attend to show we’re in earnest.” His grin returned and banished the serious expression of before. “Plus, it’s enough time to let Lord Everly assume he’s got Helen in hand. The payoff will be a nice little coup and make him sputter.”
She studied him for long moments. It would solve her immediate problems, this was true. Helen would be free. Charles would have no debt—at least to Everly. Oliver would keep his meddling mother at bay. “And afterward? What do we do then?”
“I suppose we’ll go back to being neighbors until such time that my ship’s repairs are completed and I sail again.” He shrugged and the gesture pulled his coat of slate blue tight over shoulders that had been worked and built from presumably years on the ship or in the military. “You’ll resume life doing whatever it is you do.”
“I work at the local lending library. As it is, I’ve been absent from that position due to Helen’s issue.” She frowned. Truly, was it as maddening as it sounded to agree to an engagement to a man who knew absolutely nothing about her?
“Then, this sham of an engagement can only bring good things. It will serve to let both of us meet our immediate goals.”
Yes, but what of the future? Already, if she were given to technicalities, if someone with authority came into the parlor and saw them alone together, her reputation would be compromised. For once she thanked God for Charles and his wastrel ways and her already comprised virtue. They wouldn’t need to observe Society rules as strictly as if she had a reputation to guard or a family who wasn’t already on the fringes of said Society.
“So, Miss Hawthorne,” he continued and took one of her hands. “Will you accept an engagement for the explicit term of our bridal contract?”
Would an engagement, even under such a sham as this one, break her promise to Peter? Surely not since the ultimate outcome would have her not wedding the viscount. It was merely a favor, which would benefit both her and Oliver. She
then imagined how happy Helen would be, and she nodded. “Yes, I believe I will.”
“Excellent!” He sprang from the settee. “I’ll have my man of business draw up the paperwork then deliver it here for your brother’s signature.” He eyeballed her. “Charles will consent to sign off on the agreement, won’t he?”
“I shall bully him into it as it will solve his problem as well as Helen’s.” Oliver needn’t have a worry about that.
“Very good.” He moved with a sense of urgency as he closed the distance between him and Daniela, scooped her up then twirled her about the room. “Eloisa will be our constant companion for a short while, poppet. Won’t that be entertaining?”
Eloisa’s heart lurched. Had he truly bonded with the girl? “Do you mean to carry her with you then?”
He set the girl on her feet. “How about we call for a butler to escort you to the kitchens and see if you can find a sweet?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll do it. We’re rather short of staff,” Eloisa interjected.
“Very well, but do hurry back.” With a swat to Daniela’s bottom, he sent the child off with Eloisa.
Never had she made the trip from the parlor to the kitchens and back so quickly. By the time Eloisa returned, she was a trifle breathless. “Sorry for the delay.”
“Think nothing of it.” Oliver glanced at her with a faint smile. “While you were gone, I thought over my immediate future. Having a child underfoot onboard a ship would provide any number of complications.”
How… disappointing. “I see.” She’d assumed Oliver would do the right thing, but then again, she didn’t know him that well either. Her mind’s eye jumped to a life of fancy and sails. If she imagined hard enough, she could almost feel the warm, ocean breezes on her cheeks. Then just as quickly, she dashed the images away. He wasn’t Peter and she most certainly wouldn’t be spending her life, or any sort of leisure time, with him.
The Bridal Contract (Darrington family Book 3) Page 6