by Allison Lane
He slipped into the refreshment room so he could no longer see her dancing with Reggie. He had until eleven o’clock to accept this abrupt change in his life. Looking for a lady who would suit him the way Elizabeth suited Randolph was no longer possible.
Miss Patterson had none of the attributes he had sought in a wife. Her breeding was minimal. She was a stuttering rustic with few social graces, who would likely embarrass him at every turn. He doubted if she could successfully plan refreshments for an afternoon of callers, let alone arrange a dinner or ball. Her wardrobe demonstrated a woeful lack of style. Even her wit and intelligence would bring him no pleasure, for it was too closely allied with her scheming.
The reminder bit painfully into his stomach. How long could he remain loyal to a wife who loved his brother?
Rage again flared. If Miss Patterson had not plotted to snare Reggie, he would not be in this fix.
CHAPTER TEN
Reggie escorted Lady Wicksfield to the door, heaping a last round of compliments on Harriet before leaving.
Joanna knew he hoped to soften the anger that had kept Lady Wicksfield tight-lipped since leaving the ballroom, but the task was hopeless. The moment Harriet started upstairs, Lady Wicksfield ordered Joanna into the drawing room.
“How dare you abandon your sworn duty!” she snapped.
“I didn’t—”
But she ignored the protest. “I am appalled, Miss Patterson. Appalled! Only a greedy upstart would take advantage of our favor to feather her own nest. I warned Wicksfield that allowing a low-born rustic into Society would lead to trouble. Hovering on the fringes of the polite world was bound to give you ideas. And I was right.”
“You were wrong, my lady.”
“Enough of your insolence, girl,” she hissed, discarding any pretense of gentility. “I’ve seen how you flirt with the gentlemen, and I’ve watched you steer the most eligible suitors away from Harriet – distracting Lord Ellisham, deflecting Lord Almont. Did you think your wiles went unnoticed? You vowed to see her settled, yet you have prevented her from making a match.”
“You wrong m—”
Again she overrode the protest. “Wicksfield will receive a full report of your perfidy. Entrusting our future to an inexperienced fortune hunter was a grave error. But you will get your comeuppance. Even Lord Sedgewick cannot force Society to accept you – especially when people learn how you betrayed us.”
“I betrayed nothing.” She glared at her erstwhile employer. “I have carried out Wicksfield’s orders to the letter. Do you really believe I want this? Wedding Lord Sedgewick must lead to disaster. The only schemers this evening were your brainless friends, whose meddling is forcing me into an untenable future.”
Lady Wicksfield’s snort filled the drawing room. “Don’t bother uttering your pathetic excuses. Your actions speak for themselves. I find your morals questionable, your honor nonexistent, and your character odiously selfish. Lord Sedgewick is far too high in the instep to look twice at so lowly a creature, so you must have trapped him. But your greed is futile, for you cannot be stupid enough to expect a place in Society. He will likely lock you away in the country.”
Joanna clamped her mouth shut, for argument was useless. Lady Wicksfield would never accept the truth because she assumed that everyone shared her own greed. But her wariness increased when Lady Wicksfield’s eyes gleamed with sudden cunning.
“But your future may be less bleak than I thought,” the countess said, smiling. “My support will assure Society’s acceptance, just as it got you into Almack’s. I will overlook your betrayal, provided you immediately see Harriet settled. Since you are adept at bringing a powerful lord up to scratch, you should have no trouble arranging a match for her. I will expect Lord Ellisham’s offer within the week. If you fail, I will destroy you.”
The woman wanted Harriet betrothed so that she would not have to chaperon the girl. Her return to London had revived friendships with old schoolmates whose acceptance had exaggerated her opinion of her own social standing. How could she claim more power than even Lord Sedgewick wielded?
And an even stronger motive was pride. Lord Sedgewick outranked all of Harriet’s suitors except Reggie. Lady Wicksfield would feel insulted if a mere companion took precedence over her own daughter. But she must have realized that Reggie would never willingly offer.
“You misunderstand, my lady,” she said, forcing cordiality into her voice. “Lord Sedgewick’s offer arose from chivalry. If I could escape marriage without damaging his reputation, I would gladly do so. Never would I knowingly trap any gentleman, for an unwilling union must become intolerable. Requesting that I snare another is so dishonorable that I cannot believe you are serious.”
“You dare to call me dishonorable?” Lady Wicksfield’s voice rose to a screech. “Ungrateful, encroaching liar! How can you contaminate Society with your presence? You tricked us from the beginning, throwing yourself on Wicksfield’s mercy, wheedling until he gave you more authority than he gave his own wife! I cannot even buy a packet of pins without your approval! When I think of how I begged Lady Cowper for your Almack’s voucher, I could weep.”
“This discussion is pointless.” Joanna interrupted the tirade. “You are deliberately twisting facts. Wicksfield approached me to chaperon Harriet, which I have done to the best of my ability—” she ignored the guilt over her conversations with Reggie; without his help, her job would have been impossible “—rescuing her from potential scandal any number of times. Wicksfield’s judgment is sound, as your behavior proves. You are blind when it comes to Harriet’s suitors. Ellisham will never wed, and Almont’s affections are reserved for his mistress. Yet despite knowing that Wicksfield places Harriet’s interests beside his own, you continue to pursue gentlemen who would make her miserable. He will not be pleased by your scheming. Nor will Society.”
She departed while Lady Wicksfield was still gasping for breath.
The future looked grim indeed. Lord Sedgewick had demanded an immediate wedding, so she must first convince him to wait. She needed time to think if they were to avoid disaster. Lady Wicksfield might wield no social clout, but the woman was right about one thing. Society would never accept her.
She pressed her pounding temples, trying to ease the pain enough to clear her mind. Everything that had happened since her fall was a blur of color, scent, and sound. The only vivid images she retained were Lord Sedgewick’s furious eyes and Reggie’s satisfied smile. But no one else had welcomed news of this betrothal. Shock, scorn, and ridicule had underlain the social smiles and insincere felicitations. Everyone assumed she had trapped him. Once shock subsided and the gossipmongers started working, things would be worse.
No one would believe her protests. No one would accept his explanations. Gentlemen of Lord Sedgewick’s stature did not offer for companions, no matter how many great houses they could claim kinship to. Society would always see her as a fortune hunter who had grabbed a chance to escape servitude. No one cared that she had twice eschewed marriage to a wealthy man. No fortune could offset the misery of living with someone who did not want her.
Blinking away tears, she stared into the garden. Reggie claimed that his brother was a loving, caring man with interests unknown to Society. She could accept that, though she doubted he would squander his caring on her. But what Reggie refused to believe was that Lord Sedgewick found her disgusting. Tonight’s fury may have grown from the situation, but his underlying disdain was real. Even while laughing together at Hatchard’s, she had sensed his antipathy.
Reading him was surprisingly easy. She had watched him closely since his return to town, trying to anticipate any retaliation for exposing him to ridicule in Bond Street that day. No matter what face he presented to the world, she always knew when he was pleased, bored, angry, or scornful, as he usually was around her. The keys were his eyes and his aura of passionate virility.
His eyes varied from flat gray to bright blue, their color reflecting his mood. Most of the time, they w
ere a light blue-gray – dull when he was bored, sparkling when something piqued his interest. Pleasure intensified the blue, while anger leeched it away, leaving only gray.
His aura revealed the intensity of his emotions – absent if he was bored or mildly irritated, powerful enough that she had trouble breathing if he was hiding excitement, hatred, or rage.
Tonight, he had already been furious when she’d arrived in the hallway – sensing him had drawn her attention to the group by the stairs. Mary’s skimpy costume was probably responsible, for the ultimate arbiter of fashion would be appalled that anyone might wear such a gown to a Society ball.
Not that the impropriety surprised Joanna. Mary had never been particularly bright, often doing and saying things inappropriate to the occasion. Her elopement with an actor from a traveling theater company had shocked the neighborhood, though it was typical of her starts. And it seemed to have turned out well.
But she digressed. Sedgewick’s anger had overwhelmed him when Mrs. Drummond-Burrell appeared, scrambling his thinking; he should have known that his credit could turn aside any criticism. Even after he’d controlled his face, the fury still simmered. Their waltz had been horrid. His eyes had been harsh gray, as flat as slate. His turbulence had beat against her in the most concentrated burst she had ever felt.
He had held her in contempt since their first unfortunate meeting. His only reason for approaching her since then had been to terminate her friendship with Reggie. Now they faced an impossible future made worse by his social position. So lofty an arbiter of fashion could never accept a mere companion.
If she were lucky, he would install her in a remote cottage and forget about her. But she doubted that would happen. Reggie would never wed, so Lord Sedgewick must secure the succession. He was not a man who shirked duty – as this betrothal proved. But intimacy with a man who disliked the very sight of her might be too much to bear.
And their future might be even worse. Society was a shallow institution, which meant that loyalties could change in an instant. Few had repined when Brummell’s debts sent him fleeing the country. They had merely turned to Lord Sedgewick for leadership. They could just as quickly abandon him.
This was getting her nowhere, she conceded, climbing into bed as the clock in the hall struck three – not that she had any chance of sleeping. Past mistakes could not be remedied, but the future could yet be changed. Somehow she must escape this trap. His position in Society was at stake. As was happiness for both of them.
She had eight hours to devise a way.
* * * *
Sedge forced his feet up the steps to White’s. He had discarded his costume, but this was not an evening for retiring early. He must behave as normally as possible lest he betray his fury over this twist of fate. Besides, allowing time to brood would make carrying out his duty even harder. He must see this episode to a conclusion before second thoughts drove him to dishonor.
But he could not halt his mind. Even as he exchanged greetings and answered a new round of questions, it turned over every scrap of memory, searching for a way out.
How had he fallen into this trap? And why? Someone had hoaxed Jenny into attending the masquerade. She hadn’t the brains to plan such a scheme on her own, and her writing was so poor that she was incapable of forging that letter. Was Miss Patterson somehow involved? The chit knew Jenny, and her protestations were ridiculous. No one would prefer servitude over a luxurious life of social prominence.
Except Elizabeth, his conscience reminded him. She would have refused a duke’s heir if she had not loved him.
But that was irrelevant. If Miss Patterson was anything like Elizabeth, she would have repudiated him in the middle of the ballroom. Loudly and firmly.
He shivered.
Yet what could she have hoped to accomplish by tricking Jenny? Her goal had been to attach Reggie. Creating a scene might have maneuvered Reggie into compromising her, but only if she’d known in advance when and where all the players would be in position.
Stupid!
His mind was clearly muddled. Miss Patterson had nothing to do with Jenny. She had been on her way to meet Reggie at the time. The confrontation with Jenny had actually prevented that meeting.
As he accepted felicitations from Rathbone, relief thawed the edges of the ice encasing his heart. Wedding the chit would be difficult enough without suspecting that she had precipitated this mess. Her attachment to Reggie was a large enough hurdle.
So who had tricked Jenny? Could it have been Lord Peter Barnhard? Lord Peter had tried to lure her into his bed more than once, and he must know that Sedge would dismiss her after this stunt.
“Lord Sedgewick.” A deep flush marred Crossbridge’s face.
Of course. He should have guessed the truth sooner, but he’d honestly thought the baron had learned some prudence after nearly destroying Randolph’s betrothal. “What the devil do you want now?” he snapped. “Haven’t you done enough damage?”
Crossbridge paled but held his ground. “Then I was right. Miss LaRue somehow instigated your betrothal.”
Sedge glared.
Crossbridge plowed heavily ahead. “I owe you far more than an apology. I not only blamed you for planting that print, but actually accused Ellisham of tripping me.”
“I told you we had nothing to do with it,” he said coldly.
“Quite. But I did not listen. In my arrogance, I tricked Miss LaRue into attending the masquerade, hoping to embarrass you, but I never expected the situation to spin out of control.”
“You never do. But how do you know what happened?” A witness could explain Miss Patterson’s dishevelment and provide an escape. “Were you watching?”
“Ellisham told me,” he said, killing that flash of hope. “You were gone before I realized that something had gone awry with my plan. I was debating what to do when Ellisham dragged me outside to demand an explanation – he’d recognized my hand on the letter to Jenny. I was appalled to discover what had happened, and even more so when I realized that I had tucked that print in the magazine myself. It was on my desk when my mother called…” He blushed deeper than before. “There are not apologies enough to atone for my mistakes, but I cannot allow you to blame someone else for my dishonor.”
“Damn you, Crossbridge!” The curse burst out. “Didn’t you vow just two months ago that you were through jumping to conclusions? Only Lady Elizabeth’s brush with death saved Symington from your meddling. I doubt I will be so lucky.”
“I am unfit for Society,” agreed Crossbridge, hanging his head. “I will leave within the week. Perhaps a year or two on the Continent will redeem me.”
“Somehow I doubt it. You are the most incompetent fool I know.” He snapped his jaw shut, appalled at losing his temper so thoroughly. At this rate, he would have no reputation left to salvage.
Crossbridge sighed. “I cannot blame you for being upset, but I had to confess before leaving. Ellisham feared you might fault Miss Patterson. She is as much a victim as you are, and is less capable of bearing it. But good may yet come of this. You are very alike.”
“Good-bye, Crossbridge. I cannot think we have anything further to say.” He ignored the baron’s parting comment. The man’s judgment was hopelessly impaired.
Pausing to erase any new signs of fury, he headed for the gaming room and a high-stakes match of piquet. Concentration won him a substantial sum, but did little to improve his temper.
Nor did three hours of tossing and turning. He would have been better served to have gone to Doctor’s Common himself instead of sending his secretary.
* * * *
“My lord.” Miss Patterson turned from her pose before the fireplace, her voice freezing the air of the drawing room.
“Miss Patterson.” Circles under her eyes attested to little or no sleep. Obviously she favored this match no more than he, though they had no choice. Yet what sort of future faced them? She would meet Reggie often, but marriage would place a permanent bar against ever wedding him
.
He pushed the image aside. Emotion would make this day even more difficult, so he would concentrate on honor. Once he had satisfied its demands, he could consider the next step.
“The arrangements are complete,” he announced. “I will return at two. We will wed at half past, then retire to Glendale House.”
“Why?”
“I can hardly move you into Albany.” He glared at her. “Females are not allowed.”
“Th-that is not what I m-meant.” Her face flushed an unbecoming red. “Why are you forcing me into m-marriage? You d-despise me, as does everyone else. Since I can only embarrass you, there is no point in sacrificing yourself. You know your reputation will recover if I disappear. My mother can use my help – I have eight younger siblings. Or if you b-believe that my presence would harm Father, then lend me enough to buy a c-cottage in a remote spot. I can change my name to guard against the unlikely event that someone might have heard mine.”
“Have you no thought for honor?” he demanded, angrier than ever. By the time she stammered to a halt, he was quivering with the overpowering urge to throttle her. “Am I to set you up like a cast-off mistress, allowing the world to believe that I ruined you in truth? No, Miss Patterson, you will see this through. If you behave yourself and refrain from embarrassing me for the remainder of the Season, you may retire to my estate. But not until you have removed every last trace of scandal from this imbroglio. I will not be jilted on top of everything else. Do you understand?”
She collapsed into a chair, her face now stark white. “Yes, my lord. I understand that your arrogance is worse than I had imagined. You care only for your precious reputation. What a pity. You fight to retain the devotion of fools and prigs whose only use is to inflate your considerable vanity. Don’t you understand how worthless their opinions are? They would turn on you in an instant if a more intriguing mentor appeared. Yet you will force us both into misery in the dubious name of honor.”