The Choice of a Cavalier (The Heirs of the Aristocracy Book 3)

by Linda Rae Sande

  The earl made his way through the club, calling out greetings and patting fellow aristocrats on the shoulder as he went. In his wake, those same aristocrats stared at his retreating figure in various states of wonder, suspicion, confusion and curiosity.

  Haddon was not himself. Or, at least, he was back to being himself after several years of bad behavior.

  As promised, Christopher found Tom in the very last salon, the very room in which his brother by marriage, George Bennett-Jones, had thoroughly admonished him for his bad behavior. Across from him sat Gabe Wellingham, the oldest son of the Earl of Trenton, and next to him stood James Burroughs, his banker.

  Christopher halted and gave a slight bow as the three turned to regard him. “Gentlemen,” he said as he straightened.

  Gabe quickly came to his feet. “Lord Haddon.” He bowed in greeting.

  “Haddon! Care to join us?” James asked as he moved to shake Christopher’s hand. “I have to warn you. Two of us are over the moon in love and celebrating the acquisition of special licenses and appointments with the priest on the morrow whilst Mr. Grandby here is—”

  “Despondent,” Gabe interrupted. “He won’t tell us why.”

  Tom rolled his eyes and was about to say something in his own defense, but Christopher’s elation bubbled over. “I should have joined you two in Doctors’ Commons,” he exclaimed before turning his attention to Tom. “I’ll admit, I nearly bungled it, but I managed to save the day and gain an appointment with Miss Comber for another ride in the park the day after tomorrow. This time on horseback.” His happy countenance sobered, and he furrowed his brows. “You look as if you’ve lost your best friend.”

  “He hasn’t, since that would be me,” James said quickly. “What’s this about a ride in the park with Miss Comber?”

  “Juliet Comber?” Gabe asked in surprise. When James and Christopher both turned to stare at him, he added, “Her father is one of my father’s best friends.”

  “She is the one,” Christopher affirmed. “And I have Mr. Grandby to thank for my success today.”

  “You’re welcome,” Tom said on a sigh.

  The three directed their gazes onto the only seated man in the salon. “Out with it, Tom. You’re starting to scare me,” James ordered as he moved to take a chair adjacent to Tom’s.

  “Indeed,” Christopher said as he settled into an upholstered chair. He crossed one ankle over the other knee, his fingers steepling as he rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. “When last I saw you...” He paused to pull out his pocket watch. “At two o’clock this morning, you were in fine form.”

  “Two?” James repeated, turning to Tom for affirmation.

  Tom nodded. “That’s because I’d just had one of the best nights of my life.”

  Christopher allowed a huff. “You said your dinner with Vicky was merely a business meeting!”

  “Vicky?” Gabe repeated, his gaze going from Tom to James. When the banker displayed the same look of shock as Gabe and merely shrugged, Gabe turned his attention back to Tom. “Who’s Vicky?”

  “That would be Lady Victoria to everyone but Haddon,” Tom replied, directing a frown in the earl’s direction.

  James’ eyes widened. “What about Lady Victoria?” Concern was evident in his voice.

  “Are you her banker, too?” Christopher asked.

  “I am,” James replied. “What’s this about?”

  Tom inhaled and let the breath out slowly. “A misunderstanding is all,” he said on a sigh.

  “About an investment?” James asked. He knew the duke’s daughter had withdrawn a substantial sum from her account, but he also knew why.

  “I cannot discuss my clients,” Tom said quietly. “And shouldn’t you be at Woodscastle? Making love to my sister?”

  James blinked and then stared at his future brother-in-law.

  Gabe blinked and then pretended to study his fingernails.

  Christopher blinked and then laughed out loud. “If you wish to court Vicky, you only need let me know,” he said as he leaned forward.

  Tom’s expression darkened. “She is a client. Nothing more,” he murmured, just before he drained a glass of brandy.

  “And the misunderstanding?” James queried.

  Tom sighed again. “She didn’t understand that dividends would be periodically paid out.” He directed his attention on his second cousin and narrowed his eyes. “She doesn’t want them, but she signed the damned contract. They were described in detail.”

  James furrowed a brow. “Oh.” He gave his head a shake. “That’s easily solved, though. We’ll just open an account where they can be deposited,” he offered. “She can access it whenever she is in need of funds.”

  “Which is exactly what I told her,” Tom replied. “Nicely. But she is not happy about it.”

  “Was she angry about the prospect of dividends?” Gabe asked in confusion. “I should think she would welcome them.”

  “She was, and she does not.”

  James and Christopher exchanged curious glances. “There’s more to this than you’re telling us,” Christopher accused.

  “Of course there is. She’s sprained her ankle on account of me. I wrapped it and gave her lady’s maid instructions on how to care for it.”

  “And?” Gabe prompted, his eyes wide with the thought that his second cousin might finally have found a potential wife.

  “She’s a client, dammit, and I really shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Oh, no,” Christopher said as his eyes widened. “Poor Vicky. Can she ride?”

  Tom shook his head, bristling at the earl’s continued use of the nickname. “She won’t be able to walk for at least a few days.”

  “Well, good,” the earl replied.

  Three sets of eyes turned on him, all wide with shock. “What are you saying?” James asked.

  “Vicky, bedridden, means Vicky cannot ride a horse. She will be desperate for company...” He stopped when he noticed how Tom stiffened. “Desperate for someone to pay a call. Desperate for attention,” he went on, his eyebrows waggling. “Buy her a bauble, Grandby, and she’ll forgive your damned dividends.”

  The mention of a bauble had Tom giving a start. He reached into his waistcoat pocket, relieved to discover the pearl Victoria had found in her oyster the night before was still there. The need to return it to her would be a valid excuse to pay a call at Fairmont Park. She might even agree to see him.

  Perhaps he could do one better.

  “Gentlemen, I must take my leave,” Tom said as he stood. He pulled his Breguet from his pocket, his brow furrowing. “How late is Rundell, Bridge and Company open?”

  The other three inhaled sharply, the sound of their collective gasps resulting in a series of guffaws. “Ten o’clock, although I hear they’ll stay open as late as need be should a customer wander in,” Gabe replied. When the others gave him looks of surprise, he said, “I have wandered in on occasion. Like last night.” At James’ arched brow, he added, “I wanted to get a bracelet for Frances. And a silver rattle for David.”

  “What’s this?” Christopher asked, obviously not familiar with the arrangements Gabe had made to marry Frances Longworth and take on her son as his own. “You mean you have a bride and a babe to go with the special license?”

  “Well, of course I do,” Gabe replied, wondering if others acquired marriage licenses without having prospective wives. “She’s a fellow employee at the British Museum. She has a son who I will claim as my own. The wedding is tomorrow.”

  Christopher smiled, impressed by the young man’s enthusiasm. Had he done something similar when he was Gabe’s age, he would already have a nursery full of babes and toddlers. Perhaps by now a schoolroom full of children.

  He thought of Juliet. He was of an age where he could have daughters old enough to be courted by the likes of him. Men old enough to be their fathers.

  The thought had him sobering for the first time all day.

  When he noticed Gabe waving
a hand in front of his face, Christopher murmured, “You are a better man than I,” pretending to ignore Tom’s quiet departure from the salon as Gabe and James’ attentions were on him. “I do not know that I could adopt another man’s babe.”

  “Would you if Miss Comber had a child?” James countered.

  The earl regarded him with an expression of shock and gave the question a moment of thought. “I would,” he admitted in a quiet voice. He glanced at Gabe. “Oh, I would,” he reiterated. “What does that mean?”

  James and Gabe exchanged quick glances. “You’re in love,” Gabe said.

  “Doomed, my lord,” James added. He turned back to Gabe. “Shall we take this to the betting book?”

  “Indeed,” Gabe replied happily. “Perhaps I can win back what I will lose to you and Tom when I marry Frances on the morrow.”

  Before Christopher could put voice to a protest, the other two quickly stood and left the salon.

  When they returned, Christopher was gone.

  The reminder of baubles had him heading for Ludgate Hill. If he intended to formally propose while he and Juliet were on their ride in the park, he required another ring.

  Chapter 29

  Commiserating at Fairmont Park

  Meanwhile, at Fairmont Park

  Under a cloudy sky that had darkened with the setting sun, Juliet stepped out of the Comber town coach with the assistance of the Fairmont Park footman, Cummings. She glanced up the Portland stone edifice and wondered at why all the windows were dark.

  “Her ladyship will be glad to see you,” Cummings remarked as he lifted her valise from the town coach. “And right quick, too, seeing as how the courier hasn’t been gone that long.”

  Juliet furrowed a brow. “Courier?” she repeated.

  “Her ladyship’s letter for you. One of the grooms took it not even an hour ago. It’s why you’ve come, is it not?”

  Juliet shook her head, realizing whatever letter Victoria might have sent had probably been delivered to the townhouse after she had already departed. “Uh, yes,” she answered, not about to tell the footman it was Mr. Grandby who had shared the news. She hurried to the front door. Then she turned around and called to the driver to hold for a moment. “I need to send you back with some boots. Be sure they’re given to Mr. Grandby just as soon as possible.”

  The Comber groom acknowledged the odd comment with a tip of his top hat.

  Clark already had the door open, and Juliet paused only to allow him to help with her redingote. She also handed him her muff while keeping her reticule’s handle around her wrist. “Where are her ladyship’s boots?”

  The butler blinked, but Cummings heard the query and said, “I’ve been polishing them, my lady.”

  “Could you go get them and give them to the driver, please?”

  Cummings gave a start, but said, “Right away, my lady.” He hurried off to the back of the house, and Juliet turned her attention back to the butler.

  “Is she in her bedchamber?”

  “I believe so, my lady,” Clark replied. “I will announce you—”

  “No need,” Juliet said as she turned and rushed across the hall and up the stairs. She paused a moment outside the closed door of Victoria’s room, straightening her skirts as she caught her breath. Then she knocked.

  “Really, Cummings, I don’t need more tea,” she heard from the other side of the door. “I’ll drown.”

  Juliet opened the door and peeked around the edge. “Maybe you don’t need tea, but I could use a cup,” she said with a wink. At the sight of Victoria in bed, surrounded by papers, with her wrapped ankle propped on a pillow, and her eyes red-rimmed from crying, Juliet sobered and added, “You poor thing.”

  “Juliet!” Victoria’s face lit up as she straightened. She winced when her injured ankle protested the move. “However did you get here so quickly?”

  Juliet remembered the footman’s comment. Apparently the courier—whoever he was—had just departed Fairmont Park in the last hour. “Mr. Grandby told me what happened,” she said as she hurried to the bed and lifted a hip to sit on the edge. She leaned over and kissed Victoria on the cheek.

  “What? When?” Victoria asked in shock. “He only just left here—”

  “And headed straight to my house. He was still speaking with Father when I took my leave,” Juliet explained. “Thank the gods the team was still hitched to the town coach. Mother had just returned from paying afternoon calls.”

  “How fortuitous. Can you stay the night?” Victoria asked hopefully. “Or two or three?”

  “Of course. At least until the day after tomorrow afternoon.” Juliet suddenly inhaled as her brows drew together. “Haddon has invited me for a ride in the park at three o’clock, so Father and I will have to take our leave around one o’clock, I expect.” She regarded her friend for another moment. “Or I could send a note to Haddon and beg off—”

  “No! You’ll do no such thing,” Victoria insisted. “You really must go with him, or he’ll be beside himself with worry that he’s done something unpardonable.” She arched a brow. “He hasn’t yet, has he?”

  Juliet dimpled, remembering the earl’s behavior in the barouche earlier that day. Remembering the kiss. “He’s been the perfect gentlemen, actually. Not at all what I expected. He’s really rather charming.”

  “That sounds like the old Christopher,” Victoria said with a wan grin. “So, I will simply have to do without you for a time,” she added as she lifted the back of her hand to her forehead and feigned despair. Then her gaze fell on Juliet’s hand and her eyes widened. “What’s this? Has he already proposed?”

  Inhaling and about to hide her right hand, Juliet realized it was too late. “He has only threatened to do so. Gave me this as some sort of promise, I suppose,” she admitted as she wiggled her ring finger.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Victoria murmured as she lifted Juliet’s hand and examined the sapphire and diamond ring. “And familiar.”

  “I thought so, too. It looks like almost every other betrothal ring I’ve seen, including my mother’s, although I couldn’t help but notice she seemed a bit jealous at seeing this one.”

  “That would be because of the size of the sapphire,” Victoria scolded with a grin. “For a promise ring, it makes me wonder what he has in mind for the real thing,” she added.

  “About that,” Juliet said, dipping her head. “Would you tell me truly? Did you expect to become his countess? I cannot help but think his true affections lie with you.”

  Victoria sighed as she shook her head. “He has teased me for years with the threat of a betrothal, but he knows we would not suit. We would argue more than we would agree on any matter, from what he should wear to a ball to what I should serve at a garden party,” she replied. “You, however, have truly captured him in a way I’ve not seen before.”

  Juliet blinked. “I have not captured him,” she argued. “And I have no idea what I’d serve at a garden party.”

  Victoria tittered. “Mayhap you don’t think so, but he’s made it quite clear he is yours to command. Given his manner the other day, I cannot help but think he really has returned to his better self.”

  “Because he hit his head on the pavement?”

  Shrugging, Victoria said, “Or because he’s finally found the woman he wishes to make his countess.”

  Juliet’s face bloomed with color. “Because I punched him,” she murmured.

  “As for the garden party, you can always ask him what he would like served.”

  Rolling her eyes, Juliet scoffed, and then she glanced at the papers strewn over the bed’s counterpane and frowned. “Is that the contract for your investment?”

  “It is,” Victoria acknowledged with a sigh. “After my unfortunate conversation with Mr. Grandby, I realized I needed to learn more about dividends.”

  “Oh. The periodic payouts?”

  Victoria’s eyes widened. “You remember reading about them?”

  “Well, of course. I thought i
t rather a clever concept.”

  “How so?” Victoria asked, her dark brows furrowing.

  “Well, think about it. You give all this money toward an investment that is due to last a decade or more. The only way you’ll know if it’s truly succeeding is if you’re getting something out of it on an ongoing basis.”

  “The dividend, you mean?”

  “Yes. If you don’t get anything, then you would have to wonder if the investment is sound. If those who are running the scheme are doing their jobs. In which case, at the end of the contract, can you hope to get back what you’ve paid into it if you sell your shares? Or will the whole investment be a total loss?”

  Victoria listened to the argument, understanding now why Juliet hadn’t questioned that portion of the contract when Tom Grandby was there for the signing. “I comprehend it now. But... earlier today... I fear I did not, and poor Mr. Grandby... he suffered my wrath. My terrible wrath.”

  Juliet remembered how concerned Tom Grandby had been when he had spoken with her and her father. At no point had he seemed upset with Victoria.

  Just the opposite.

  More as if he was upset with himself, convinced he was the cause of Victoria’s sprained ankle.

  “He can’t have suffered overmuch,” Juliet murmured. “He’s gone to the trouble of arranging for Father to take over the horse training—at least for Lord Reading’s horses—and for...” She stopped, deciding not to inform Victoria of his plan to have a shoemaker make her some custom shoes.

  What if he intended for that to be a surprise?

  Victoria blinked several times. “So... your father is coming here? Tomorrow morning?” she asked in surprise.

  “Yes. That’s part of why Mr. Grandby paid a call. Asked if my father could see to training the horses while you’re unable to.” At Victoria’s look of disbelief, she admitted, “I may have eavesdropped a bit whilst I waited for the coach to pull around front. I even heard him offer to pay my father for his time.”

  Victoria stared at her, a myriad of emotions playing over her face. “Well, that was entirely unnecessary,” she replied.