unsuccessful fight to protect their honour.
James knew that if Alex Blackthorne now got to his feet and challenged him to name his seconds a grovelling apology was his only option. The viscount was an excellent shot and his fencing skill had been likened to that of a professional. James wasn’t prepared to risk being killed or maimed because of a moment of madness. He stabbed a poisonous stare at Hugh Kendrick. It was his fault. The viscount had only chipped in that comment about Grantham to take pressure off his blasted impecunious friend.
Alex was aware of the fomenting excitement in the room. Gentlemen reacted to a hint of a duel like a pack of hyenas scenting a carcase. He sensed several had already quit their tables to stealthily, determinedly, approach and gather behind his chair. Ancient Lord Brentley had seemed to be snoozing behind a newspaper on a sagging sofa. Now he was on his feet in a sprightly shove and ambling over.
Alex folded his hand and skimmed the cards over the baize before leisurely getting to his feet. He approached Whittiker and laid a large hand on one of his fat shoulders. The fellow’s nervous quivering was quite tangible through wool. ‘I don’t think you meant to say that, did you, James?’
Whittiker licked his parched lips. The viscount was giving him a way out, but to take it would brand him ever more as a coward prepared to dishonour his family name to save his skin.
From his superior height Alex inclined his dark head to listen for Whittiker’s response. The hushed atmosphere within the room seemed to extend into eternity.
Abruptly the sound of shattering glass splintered the silence. A steward had speeded into the room carrying a tray of decanters and crashed into a table whilst craning his neck to see what had made the club members congregate close to the fireplace.
‘I apologise, Blackthorne; mouth ran away with me,’ Whittiker muttered, using the ensuing confusion to drown out his words.
Alex was aware of the fellow’s insincerity. Whittiker hadn’t even met his eyes whilst speaking. Nevertheless, he gave his shoulder a pat before turning away.
Aware of a score or more pairs of despising eyes on him, James shoved through the throng of gentlemen towards the exit.
Chapter Two
‘I shan’t beg an invitation from the Chapmans, so please don’t nag about it.’
‘But why will you not?’ Bea gestured in exasperation. ‘Verity constantly invites you to stay with her in London, yet you rarely go. She always comes here instead and costs Papa her keep, which he can ill afford. Just a hint from you that we would love to see her and soon we would be booking our places on the mail coach.’
Privately Elise agreed with her sister’s calculation; Verity would immediately issue an invitation should she imply she would like one. Verity was a dear friend from schooldays and hadn’t shunned her when her parents’ disgrace became common knowledge. Neither had Mr and Mrs Chapman turned their backs on them all. ‘You know why I will not do it.’ Elise sighed. ‘Last time we were there you embarrassed us both by insisting we outstay our welcome. We were invited to be houseguests for two weeks yet you wangled for a longer stay, although you know Mr and Mrs Chapman are not well off. I practically had to drag you home.’
‘Mr Vaughan had started paying me attention. It would have been silly to leave at such a time.’ Beatrice had the grace to blush despite her forceful excuse.
‘Mr Vaughan knew full well where you lived in Hertfordshire. I recall you telling him several times,’ Elise responded drily. ‘He would have come after you had his intentions been as serious as you’d imagined them to be.’
‘He did like me.’ Bea’s obstinate tone couldn’t conceal an undercurrent of hurt.
‘Yes, I know,’ Elise concurred softly. ‘Unfortunately his fiancée had a firm grip on him. And now they are married.’
‘He told me if Papa had even a little to offer to ease his financial situation he’d propose in an instant. He only got betrothed to her because cash was dangled by her father.’
‘It tends to make a big difference,’ Elise agreed on a sigh. ‘That’s why I’m amazed you think this harebrained scheme of yours will work. Mr Vaughan liked you very much, yet he was unable to wed a woman without good connections or a dowry to recommend her.’ She frowned as Bea continued staring dreamily into space.
‘Will you write and ask Verity if we may stay for just one week?’ Beatrice was acting as though she’d not attended to a single sensible word Elise had uttered.
‘Tell me truthfully,’ Elise demanded. ‘Have you received replies to your advert? Is that why you want to go to town—to meet fortune hunters on neutral ground?’ From the moment Beatrice had started pestering her to get them to London Elise had feared her sister was planning to disgrace herself—perhaps them all—by risking secretly meeting a gentleman.
Beatrice hesitated just a fraction too long before issuing a denial.
‘I knew it!’ Elise gasped. ‘You’ve made an assignation with a stranger to beg him to marry you!’
‘I won’t need to beg,’ Bea said airily. ‘I’ve had a dozen or more replies, but only two seem worth considering.’ She grinned at Elise. ‘Some have sworn that the money is not a temptation and they simply have fallen a little in love with me after reading my sweet prose.’ She chuckled. ‘What piffle! I can spot a liar a mile off.’
‘Do you think these two gentlemen you are pinning your hopes on aren’t able to do the same?’ Elise choked a mirthless laugh. ‘Your respondents are doubtless not as gullible or upstanding as you hope they’ll be.’
‘Neither am I gullible,’ Beatrice asserted. ‘I want a fellow who’s honest enough to admit my money was a lure. Of course, he’ll also need to have sufficient income of his own and to like me well enough to propose when he finds out I have nothing. We must then both try hard to make a go of it. But I can forgo luxuries.’ She continued sourly, ‘I am well used to doing so.’
‘Nevertheless, I think you want too much,’ her sister told her. ‘Your chosen two might suspect you are a doxy touting for business, then you’ll be in grave trouble as they won’t have falling in love or marriage on their minds.’
‘They don’t need to fall in love with me. I just want a kind husband and a little family.’ Beatrice hung her head, concealing her yearning expression with a curtain of blonde locks. ‘Is that too much to ask?’
A surge of emotion overwhelmed Elise on hearing her sister’s plaintive wail. A hiccup of breath caught in her throat, bringing a salty sting to her eyes. Of course, she knew it was not too much to want! How often had she daydreamed about something similar for herself? But painful memories of her parents’ miserable life had damaged her ideal of romantic love. She’d seen there was a dark side to desire that was selfish and cruel.
‘Why are you acting so silly?’ Elise demanded in frustration. ‘You might bring disaster down on all our heads if you carry on with this.’ She quickly approached her sister, clasping her hands. ‘I will talk to Papa and ask him to arrange for Aunt Dolly to give us board and lodging in Hammersmith. She knows a few good families, and if she arranges some social outings you might meet a gentleman in the customary way instead of resorting to this daft—’
‘I have already asked Papa,’ Bea interrupted despondently.
