She chuckled. “You walk too heavily upon the earth to be a good thief. Most likely you would feel guilty, too, and put everything back the next day. What about gambling?”
“You need money to do that, and I will not risk what we have.”
She nodded slowly. “Then a wife it is. A rich one.”
“Yes,” he said morosely. Portia possessed a dowry to solve every problem for the rest of his life, but he was nervous about asking her to marry him. He was not sure her heart had softened toward him enough. He was well aware that he might only have one chance. If she refused, he could never ask again. He would be too humiliated to try.
Auntie clucked her tongue. “Being married isn’t painful, not for the husband, anyway.”
He rolled his eyes at her quip. “Being proven a fortune hunter is, though. Because I certainly am one, even before I begin courting.”
Auntie leaned forward. “She does seem to favor you now.”
Julian knew whom she was speaking of without Portia Hayes’ name being mentioned. They had both been watching Portia since her debut—Auntie encouraging her out of her mother’s shadow, while Julian kept the true scoundrels of society, fortune hunters particularly, from ruining her just to claim her ridiculously large dowry.
Unfortunately, he’d not done so well at recommending himself as a potential spouse until recent events had brought them together. The lack of funds meant he could not afford to bring her daffodils when he called or send love notes by messenger to prove she meant more to him than her dowry.
Seeking distraction, Julian picked up the paper next to him and smoothed the pages. He flipped to the spot he’d been reading at breakfast, hoping for good news.
“Lord Mallory married last week by special license,” Auntie said suddenly. “He chose Elaine Whittaker for his bride.”
“Devil take it!” Julian threw the paper away, disappointed by this turn of events. “I liked her but he’s an ass.”
“They say it is a love match,” Auntie said in a soothing tone. “Best not to interfere with those things.”
“Of course they say that. But he also happens to be rich into the bargain, so of course she fell in love with him.”
Auntie clucked her tongue. “It won’t do you any good feeling sorry for yourself, dearie.”
Julian bowed his head. Frustrated by his life. If his father was alive, he’d wring his bloody neck. “This is hopeless. If not for this accursed house, we’d be far better off.”
“All the best families have lived in this square.”
“I hope that is some consolation for you when winter comes and the house is freezing.”
“You worry too much.”
He leaned toward her. “There’ll be no money for coal, dearie.”
A look of stubborn determination crossed her face. “We’ll come about. We’ve waded through thick and thin together all these years.”
She started chuckling to herself, and Julian groaned. “That sort of thing wasn’t funny when I was a boy, and it certainly is not now.”
That only made her laugh harder.
He raked a hand through his hair. Once rumors of the billiard table sale circulated, his situation would be looked at more closely by those who knew him. Marrying a daughter to an impoverished viscount was hardly the stuff of dreams for any ambitious family, but he had no time to dally. “If I can convince her, then I’ll stop worrying,” he promised.
“Remember, you’re as deserving as the next man.”
“I know that. But the inequality of money will be the true stumbling block. You know how much trouble Sullivan had with Clare’s family getting in his way. I can’t imagine I’ll have better luck.” He burst to his feet. “I’ll begin courting her tonight.”
“If she has any sense, she’ll only care about your heart.”
He moved to the front windows and peered outside, impatience making his toe tap. “She’s invited to the Daventry Ball tonight, too. We should get there early. The best I can hope for is to beat the others to claim the supper dance.”
“What if she has promised it to another?”
He spread his hands wide. “I’ll take anything else left. If not, abduction seems a reasonable alternative to a proper courtship, doesn’t it?”
He was joking of course. He would never disrespect Portia by sullying her reputation. Not when he’d done all he could to keep it pristine.
“That happened a lot in my day.” Auntie sighed. “Only the most ardent of lovers risked the run for the Scottish border with the angry family in hot pursuit.”
“That’s a little more than I planned,” he said, and then glanced at his aunt. “Shouldn’t you be trying to stop me from ruining her?”
“I know your heart is in the right place.” Auntie leaned back and closed her eyes. “Those other fellows see only her dowry and what they can do with it. You don’t.” She started to chuckle. “Although with a dowry that plump, there is a great many things that could be done around here.”
“Not here. I quite like her uncle’s house.”
Auntie pulled a face. “At least that is something in your favor. You both seem to prefer the place, though why, I cannot imagine. Would you really move so far from Mayfair?”
“I would.” Julian glanced around, grimacing. “Try not to scare off the next gentleman who expresses interest in taking on our lease. No matter how large Portia’s dowry may be, we cannot be wasteful and try to live in two places at once.”
“Oh very well, but I do want to have a say one day again,” she grumbled.
“Everything but the decoration of her uncle Oliver’s house.” Julian quickly kissed her cheek.
“If the boy was here, he’d be on my side about all this,” she complained.
The boy was Nigel, Julian’s younger brother. “Nigel has already assured me he is perfectly fine with anything I decide. I bought him the commission he wanted. He’s happy, I think.”
Auntie pouted. “It’s too quiet without him.”
“We will see him again, as soon as he has leave to visit us.”
She squinted at him. “You need children.”
“Don’t get too far ahead of the present.” Julian laughed. The things Auntie said sometimes were beyond the pale. “Excuse me.”
“Where are you going?”
“To tell the groom to make himself useful in the kitchen rather than the stables. I might have enough to keep him in employment if I am accepted in the next two weeks.” He turned back to his aunt. “Oh, don’t forget, you’re coming to the Daventry ball tonight, too. I’ll need you there to keep her mother occupied, should I somehow manage to claim the supper dance. Wear something pretty with your pearls and stay out of the wine cellar. I’ll see you at eight in the front hall.”
“Julian,” Auntie called. “She will say yes to you.”
“We’ll find out tonight,” he replied before hurrying off. “My luck has to change for the better soon.”
Chapter 4
“Welcome to our little party, Mr. Hayes. Mrs. Hayes,” Lord Daventry said to Portia’s parents as they reached the head of the receiving line. “I hear congratulations are in order, too. Montrose has stolen away one of our favorite ladies.”
That was quick.
“I’m still here,” Portia said as she poked her head around her father’s shoulder.
She had not expected anyone coming to the Daventry Ball to know about the engagement yet. It had only been a few short hours. But she should have known that the ton loved nothing more than a good gossip. Was there anyone left who she could surprise with the news?
“So you are, but not for long, I imagine,” Daventry said with a hearty laugh.
Father puffed out his chest, smiling proudly. “We cannot be more pleased with the connection. Lord Montrose has chosen very well.”
The earl agreed and her parents moved along. “Miss Hayes, so good of you to come,” Daventry murmured before urging his wife forward. “I don’t believe you’ve met my wife yet.”<
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“No, but I long to. How do you do, my lady,” she said quickly as the countess approached.
“Very well. A pleasure to meet you,” Lady Daventry murmured with a fond smile for her husband. The earl stepped away to greet another couple, leaving them standing alone for a moment. The tiny woman was hardly ever seen in London, preferring a retiring life away from the crowds prevalent at London amusements. She was said to be quite nervous of strangers, too.
“Thank you for inviting us tonight.”
“It would not be a proper ball without you,” Lady Daventry replied in a soft and kind voice. “My husband mentioned you were much loved as a dance partner. I am afraid we only just learned of your engagement late this afternoon, or we would have invited the duke to join us, too.”
“I do understand,” Portia promised. “And I am sure Lord Montrose would have been very pleased to attend.” Lady Daventry was so tiny that Portia shrank down a little so she was not towering over the woman.
“There would have been ample room for one more, I’m sure.” Lady Daventry leaned forward suddenly. “I adore the color of your gown. Such a striking shade of green.”
“I was about to say the same of your gown. I wish I could persuade my mother to permit me to wear crimson,” Portia admitted with a heavy sigh of admiration for the daring creation. She stared at Lady Daventry’s gown more closely but the countess started to fidget under her prolonged scrutiny. There was barely any bodice or sleeves, and the longer Portia admired the gown, the more she noticed it was almost indecently sheer.
She grinned slowly, and Lady Daventry returned it shyly. It was a bold choice and very daring indeed.
“My husband’s choice,” Lady Daventry laughed softly, and Portia did, too.
“Lord Daventry has excellent taste.”
“I do indeed,” Daventry said as he suddenly returned to his wife and slid his arm around her back before he pressed a brief kiss to her brow. “I’ve told you to wear anything you like, my dear. To hell with what people think of us.”
Portia grinned. She couldn’t wait to be married so she might have a husband who doted on her like that. She bid her hosts a fond farewell and hurried to catch up to her parents, who were already far ahead.
This was the first large ball the Daventrys had hosted since they’d married, and Portia’s first foray into the house at all. She was astounded by the richly decorated home and the guests she recognized. Absolutely everyone was here. The couple had invited a great number of people, and it seemed all the rooms on this level and the one above were filled with happy, chattering guests.
They passed through what she thought could have been an elegant drawing room, if it had any furniture left in it, to where people were gathered together sipping champagne.
Portia was allowed one glass, perhaps a second toward the end of the evening, if her mother was in a good mood. She accepted her first glass, completely sure she deserved a second later to celebrate her good fortune, though she sipped slowly. She followed closely behind her parents, who greeted friends of theirs. Her parents were not widely acquainted with the Daventrys’ many friends, though, and soon they were standing alone. There were faces she did not recognize in the room but clearly they were important if they were here.
She glanced up, admiring the splendid crystal chandelier dangling high above their heads. Lord Daventry was said to be obscenely rich, so she was not overwhelmed by surprise at what she saw about her. One day she might live in such a grand house. She must remember to ask Lord Montrose to describe what his home looked like.
Portia felt eyes upon her and looked around for the source. The room was very full, but for a second she imagined Lord Wade was watching her yet again. She craned her neck, looking for him with a feeling of unease. He should have heard the news of her engagement from her own lips, and she was desperate to tell him the exact details of Lord Montrose’s sudden proposal so he would know truth from fiction.
She was ashamed to say that in the rush of excitement at accepting the duke, mostly encouraged by her mother and sister, she had forgotten to send a note to Lord Wade and his aunt to tell them immediately. They were good friends.
She looked around again, eager to see him now. She had actually missed him very much today, because she could not get over his sudden disappearance from Lady Birch’s party last night. She was worried about how he was feeling. She thought he might have been upset over the death of Lord Sullivan’s wife, too.
She owed him her support in his hour of need. After all, the viscount had unselfishly watched over her safety in recent weeks. Yes, she might once have resented, even loathed, the very sight of Lord Wade hovering at the perimeter of her awareness. She had become used to his admiration, not that their little flirtations could have ever amounted too more than that. But he was her friend. The best kind she could ever hope to have.
Although she looked everywhere, she could not see him yet. But Lord Wade was sure to be here tonight. It was Lord Wade who had introduced her family to Lord Daventry during her very first season.
It was only after she had agreed to dance with several gentlemen that night that she saw Lord Wade’s aunt in the crowd. Portia liked her very much. She talked with an open frankness usually only experienced with close family members. Mrs. Hesper Lenthall was talking, glass in hand, on the far side of the room. When the older lady finally noticed her, Portia waved quickly and smiled, hoping to share her excitement.
Mrs. Lenthall seemed to squint at her…but then immediately returned to her conversation without waving back.
Portia lowered her hand slowly, and then glanced around to see if anyone had noticed she might have been snubbed. Mrs. Lenthall would not have given her the cut direct, of course not, but it may seem like it to others.
Portia finally saw Lord Wade. He was standing by himself, watching her as usual from a distance, his expression unreadable.
Relieved to see his familiar face at last, Portia excused herself to her mother and turned toward Lord Wade—except Lord Wade was no longer anywhere to be found.
Undeterred by his disappearance, Portia moved to where she’d last seen him standing.
A little farther along the ballroom, a door was slowly falling closed. Portia followed, sure that Lord Wade had darted behind it, though for what reason she couldn’t imagine.
She slipped from the room, plunging into the near total darkness of a narrow unlit hallway. When her eyes adjusted, Lord Wade was standing right in front of her. “There you are.”
“Here I am,” he said in a frosty tone that made her shiver.
“Why didn’t you come over and say hello?”
“Why do you think?”
Was he so angry to hear about her engagement via the gossips that he would sulk? “I really must talk to you.”
Wade folded his arms across his chest. “I cannot imagine what about.”
“I wanted to tell you myself that I am engaged to marry the Duke of Montrose, but I fear you already have heard. Lord Daventry seemed to know of it the moment we arrived.”
Wade’s nod was clipped. “Montrose is a bore.”
“He’s a duke,” she protested.
“You don’t say,” Lord Wade exclaimed, but his tone dripped with sarcasm. “I only heard about his blasted title from him every single day when I was at school with the man.”
“I’m sorry he did that. Children can be cruel to each other without considering the hurt they cause others. My own sister sometimes drives me to distraction. However, I’m sure he has changed since then.”
Lord Wade looked away. “I hardly care if he has or not.”
“Please, Wade,” she put her hand on his arm, “don’t be cross with me for not telling you about it myself. I know I should have sent a note round rather than letting you hear it third hand. It all happened so quickly, just this afternoon.”
“You don’t say,” he repeated, still obviously put out with her.
She shook his arm. “I want my friends to celebrate m
y marriage with me. The banns will be called on Sunday, then in four or maybe five weeks there will be the wedding, and later visits to the country or the London townhouse when we host parties. He is supposed to have a grand house to the south, but I’ve never been there. Imagine the adventure that trip will be for all of us.”
His expression soured even more. “I’m sure Lady Sorenson will be delighted to visit you anywhere.”
“I meant you and your aunt, too. We’re friends!”
“Good God, woman!” Lord Wade exclaimed loudly, looking at her with a horrified expression on his face. “Do you imagine you and I are friends?”
“Of course we are! The best of friends indeed. You would have saved my life if I was in danger last month.”
“That was last month.” He loomed closer suddenly. Wade was narrowly built but quite a bit taller than Portia. When she looked up at him, she felt her knees start to tremble, which was an odd discovery to make now when he’d never intimated her before. “Miss Hayes, we are not friends. We never were.”
She blinked at him in surprise. “But…”
His eyes narrowed, and he suddenly drew back. “I found watching your reckless antics amusing for a time—you were always one kiss away from scandal—but those days are long past.”
Why was he lying to her? He had never been amused by her behavior or her fascination with other men. “That is not true. I cannot believe you could say that to me after all we’ve been through these past weeks. You protected me when no one else tried to. Not even my parents know how much you sacrificed to keep me safe.”
“One less virgin wasted by a murderer,” he said sourly. “The aristocracy needed you alive for your dowry, and look how quickly Montrose swept you up in his loving arms once he surveyed the very small field of choices. It took barely a week after his arrival in Town for him to sweep in and claim you before anyone else realized what he was up to.”
Lord of Sin Page 4