Heartless

by Jaimey Grant

  The only person who actually knew Aurora was Verena, Lady Connor Northwicke. She had met her often. The girl came from a family rich as Croesus who had lived on the estate next to her father, the Earl of Carstairs. The two girls were of an age and had been drawn together by strange circumstances that neither were privy to. It was just a feeling they had had about each other.

  Apparently, Aurora had fallen on somewhat hard times after the death of her parents.

  Verena had heard of her parents’ deaths. It was close enough to a year ago that no one would care if she came out of mourning a few weeks early to enjoy the Season. Verena did wonder, however, why Aurora would come to Town with her lack of funds. Was she looking for a husband?

  Connor and Verena Northwicke—technically the Marquess and Marchioness of Beverley although they did not make use of the Duke of Denbigh’s second title—had decided to “do” the Season that year. Of course, their children, one-year-old twins Rhys and Juliana and nearly three-month-old Damien, came with them. Verena never left her children. She preferred to be their mother instead of following the tradition of letting them be raised by nurses and nannies, then governesses and tutors before packing the boys off to school and university and sending the girls to a finishing school before selling them to the highest bidders on the marriage mart.

  Verena would have stopped in to welcome her only childhood friend had baby Damien not developed a cough. Nearly all her days—and nights—were spent with him in the nursery much to her husband’s chagrin—and sexual frustration.

  *****

  Lord Connor took himself off to his clubs more often than usual. Several times he happened to see Levi playing cards with his cronies and more often with that snake Percival Winters.

  “Levi, fancy meeting you here,” Connor commented ironically one evening after Verena had sequestered herself in the nursery. The young lord settled himself morosely into the chair just vacated by the earl’s friend, Lord Delwyn Deverell, younger son of the Duke of Traverhurst. Lord Delwyn apparently had somewhere else he needed to be. And quickly, too, if his nervous glance and swift pace were any indication.

  Connor smirked and turned a feral glare on Winters who actually had the gall to remain in the same room with him. “Are you not wanted somewhere, Percy?” he drawled.

  Levi watched all of this with wide eyes. He appeared surprised, possibly scared to the casual observer. Upon closer inspection, one might notice a suspicious brightness in the earl’s eyes as Levi was in fact trying very hard not to laugh.

  He actually didn’t like Winters. He only played with the man since he was always available. It was satisfying to see him taken down a peg. He was too toplofty for his own good. The man didn’t even possess a title!

  Winters growled something too low for Levi to hear but Northwicke grinned. “I would love to call you out, Winters. What say you and I step over to Jackson’s and go a round or two? I would prefer a more worthy opponent, but you’ll do.”

  Percival Winters rose with as much dignity as he could muster under such an insult and stomped out of Brooks’s Club, barely remembering to pause for his hat and stick. Levi let one snicker escape.

  Northwicke’s glare suddenly turned on him and Levi had to force himself not to shrink back into his seat. Eden Farnsworth tossed a nervous glance between the two men and hastily took his leave. Levi and Northwicke were left alone at the table.

  “Care for a drink?” Levi offered. His brow furrowed slightly. “Look like you could use one.”

  Northwicke wordlessly accepted the glass of burgundy that Levi pushed across the table. He stared hard at the earl until Levi squirmed involuntarily. Satisfied, Northwicke quaffed the wine in his glass and smiled congenially at his companion.

  “Just what the devil are you doing here, Levi?” His tone and words were at war with his hard expression.

  “Did Adam send you in here to rescue me?”

  “No, I hear things. You’re said to be swimming up River Tick voluntarily and with a smile on your face. Not wise, my boy.”

  “For your information, my lord,” Levi retorted indignantly, “I was winning when you broke up our game. And I have a plan to get ahead of the duns.”

  “Let me guess,” the other man offered sardonically. “You have a never-fail bet riding on a horse called Gypsy’s Fortune because some old hag with a gold hoop in her ear told you the beast will win? No, I have it! Farnsworth and Deverell discovered that standing on your head while racing to Bath cuts two hours off the previous record and you want to best it? Oh, that can’t be it, though. That’s far too much like work. It must be darling cousin Bri, then. How much more do you think she will give you, Levi? Adam won’t let you beggar her, you know. He will kill you first.”

  “Stubble it, Northwicke! I don’t need a jaw-me-dead, you prosy arse.” Levi rose to leave. Northwicke caught the arm of the furious young lord.

  “Adam Prestwich will see you dead before he lets you destroy his wife…financially or emotionally.”

  Levi shook off Northwicke’s hand, smoothing the wrinkles from his sleeve with jerky little motions. “I will not beggar my cousin. And it is none of your concern, Northwicke, but I will recoup my losses in the time-honored way. I will marry an heiress.”

  There was a moment of silence, then, “Oh, dearest God in heaven, you are serious.”

  Levi chuckled, his usual good humor restored in the face of Northwicke’s disbelief. “Why is that difficult to accept?” he asked lightly.

  Northwicke just shook his blond head, a smile lighting his handsome features. “Sit down. I think we should talk like two civilized adults.”

  Levi complied. He was curious. He knew Northwicke would lecture him in some way about his gambling but the other man always had interesting ways of going about it. And who knew? Maybe he’d actually listen this time.

  Northwicke sat down and rubbed a hand wearily over his face. He looked tired. Levi wondered briefly what was weighing on his companion’s mind.

  Folding his hands solemnly before him, Northwicke said, “I must apologize for my lapse in good manners. I just find it so damned irritating to see you in here nearly every night while your pregnant cousin sits at home and worries about your increasing debts. Why do you continue?”

  The earl shrugged. “Ennui?”

  Boredom could drive a man to do the stupidest things just to get some relief from the dull monotony of life. And Levi had done just about every stupid thing imaginable. Even…

  “Did you really walk across Hyde Park on your hands in the middle of the promenade?” Northwicke asked abruptly.

  Levi grinned that irresistibly boyish grin of his that never failed to win over young and old, men and women alike. His dark brown eyes brimmed with mirth. “I won a thousand pounds for that.”

  *****

  “He is looking for a wife?” Bri stared. She could not have heard her husband right. “Are you quite sure you did not misunderstand, my love?

  Levi would do anything to avoid a leg shackle.”

  Adam snorted. “Apparently, your jingle-brained cousin has decided the quickest and easiest way to recoup his losses is to marry and marry well.” He turned away and adjusted his cravat slightly, then nodded his head in satisfaction.

  Bri bit her lip as she watched him. Lord, if Levi was serious, he must be in a fair amount of trouble. “Perhaps I should just—”

  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.”

  Befor
e 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 wealthy 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.”