A Marquis to Marry (34 page)

“She is probably wishing her brother had handled the matter privately.”

“That’s what I was thinking. I’m certain Gibby is innocent of her charges. He is too much of a gentleman and always has been. All his life, his honor has meant more to him than his life. This whole thing could have been handled quietly if only Prattle hadn’t made his accusations public that day.”

“You think he did that for a reason?”

“Yes. Perhaps he was too deep in his wine, or maybe he was hoping Gibby would just pay them off. But what he didn’t know is that Gibby is much too honorable for that.”

“Sir Randolph is certainly enjoying the attention the fight has brought to him.”

“Yes, it’s one of his weaknesses. He adores being the focus of anyone’s attention. I fear the aging Miss Prattle has become a pawn in her brother’s scheme to get money from Gibby. What I don’t know is whether she’s a willing or reluctant participant.”

“Are you thinking that, either way, since her brother smeared her name all over London, she might be wishing she could move to another place and start over?”

Race nodded. His hand slipped under Susannah’s hair to cup her neck, and he gently pulled her to him and kissed her softly. “Did I ever tell you that I think you are a wonderful lady?”

“No, and unfortunately, right now you don’t have time to tell me. You need to dress and go to your own house before the day begins.”

He kissed her again. “I don’t want to leave you, but I agree I must.” Suddenly his eyes turned serious again, and he said, “Susannah, I am sorry I was such a brute to you about the theft.”

She reached over and kissed his eyes, his nose, and each side of his mouth and then smiled at him. “No more apologies.”

He grinned and crawled off the bed and picked up his trousers. “I’ll come back this afternoon, and we can talk more about what you’ve discovered from your conversations with Winston, Spyglass, and Smith.”

She pulled the sheet up to her waist. “And you can share what you’ve found out, as well.”

“Of course.” He grinned at her as he pulled his shirt over his head. “I’ve ruled out Smith.”

“So have I, but you cannot come over this afternoon,” she said.

“What? Why?”

She smiled mischievously. “I already have plans, my lord.”

He stopped tucking his shirt in the waistband of his trousers and frowned. “What kind of plans? No, don’t tell me, just change them.”

She lay back on the pillow and stretched her arms over her head. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

“Susannah, do not tempt me with thoughts of your being with another man, or I will crawl back in that bed with you and, once again, show you why I am the only man for you,” he said, shrugging into his coat.

Susannah laughed. She absolutely loved the fact that he thought he had to win her love. “All right, if you must know, I’m going to the park with Henrietta and Constance.”

His eyes widened as he stepped into his shoes. “Really?” he said, not bothering to fasten the buckle on his shoes. “I’m glad you two are getting acquainted.”

She lowered her arms. “Yes, but I’m afraid Henrietta’s husband still thinks I’m a troublemaker of the highest order and that, somehow, my errant ways will rub off on his sweet, innocent wife.”

Race laughed and walked over to the bed. “I think it is positively splendid that Blake thinks you’re a troublemaker. Damnation, but that makes me feel good! You must not ever let him know any different.”

Race bent down and kissed her quickly and then asked, “What party are you attending tonight?”

“Mrs. Princeton arranges my schedule, so I’m not sure. Why?”

“Send me a note when you decide which one, and let me know. I will attend the same party,” he said and headed for the door.

She raised her eyebrows. “Wait. Do you not trust me to stay away from Captain Spyglass and Mr. Winston?”

He quietly unlocked the door and turned and threw her another grin. “Not an inch.”

Later that day, Race waited in the private card room of The Rusty Nail with a bottle of wine and two glasses sitting on the table in front of him. He had chosen this place to meet Prattle, knowing he could trust the proprietor of the club to keep this meeting quiet.

Race wanted to get the matter of the fight and the pearls settled so he could concentrate on Susannah. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, and he could smell her womanly scent. He could taste her on his lips and hear her soft breaths.

Race heard the door open and glanced up to see Prattle standing just inside the room, looking like a rat staring at a roomful of hungry cats.

“Come in and close the door,” Race told him.

Prattle obeyed and shuffled toward the table. The man wasn’t very tall, but he was round as a barrel and looked solid as a rock.

He stopped in front of Race, nervously twisting his hat in his hand. “My lord?” he said, with sweat beading on his upper lip and shining on the top of his balding head.

“There’s no reason to be nervous, Prattle. I only want to talk to you. Sit down.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Race poured him a glass of the dark red wine and slid it toward him. The man looked at the glass as if it might contain poison, so Race picked up his glass and took a sip before saying, “I’m hearing about Town that you don’t really want to fight Sir Randolph. Any truth to that?”

Prattle placed his hat on the table and picked up the glass and took a long drink, downing more than half of what Race had put in the glass. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then said, “I’m not a fighting man.”

But he obviously was a drinking man. Race looked at the man’s large shoulders and barrel chest and found it odd that such a stout man didn’t have the stomach for fighting. But maybe that was a good thing. With his build, if Prattle knew how to fight, Race wasn’t sure there’d be a man who could beat him.

Race kept all that to himself and simply said, “Neither is Sir Randolph a fighter. Yet you challenged him to a duel, and he accepted.”

“I-I know now that I shouldn’t have done that. I’d had a bit of ale the night before, and I was jug bitten when I talked to Penelope that morning. I didn’t really want to harm anyone.”

“I wish you had thought of that before you made your pronouncement in the park with more than thirty witnesses.”

Prattle’s round eyes twitched, and his heavy cheeks trembled. “I-I don’t know what happened. Some kind of madness overtook me, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. We went to see Sir Randolph later and apologized. We asked him not to—”

“Wait a minute,” Race said, leaning over the table. “Are you telling me that you and your sister went to see Sir Randolph?”

“Yes, of course. Penelope apologized and told him she was sorry for what she told me and hadn’t meant to cause so much trouble when she asked him to kiss her. She knew him to be a gentleman and was hoping, if she accused him of compromising her, he might simply agree to marry her.”

“Didn’t she realize what she was doing to Sir Randolph’s honor and her own reputation by accusing him of something that wasn’t true?”

“Not at the time. She was dreadfully sorry, my lord. She thought if she accused him of wrongdoing, he might agree to marry her to keep scandal away from his good name. She told him she had always fancied him. She asked him what she could do to make it up to him.”

Race was going to strangle Gibby. That devilish whipster should have told him about this. “What did Sir Randolph say?”

“He said the only thing we could do was go on with the fight. That I’d already ruined my sister by challenging him in the park, and if we didn’t fight, our reputations would be ruined, too.”

Gibby was probably right about that. The entire city was in a heated fervor over the fight. Race picked up his glass and sipped his wine.

“How is your sister now?”

The man breathed deeply. He had such a sad look on his face. “She won’t come out of the house. She knows this is her fault, and she says she’s never going out in public again.”

“There’s enough blame for both of you to carry, but there might be something I can do.”

“I know I don’t deserve a portion, but if there’s anything you can do to stop the fight, I’d be obliged.”

“I’m talking about helping your sister, Prattle, not you. Unfortunately, at this point, I agree with Gibby. The fight must go on. The men who have put down their wagers deserve their fight. If you didn’t show for the mob that will gather in the park, they would probably come and find you both and make you fight. And quite frankly, you both would deserve it. However, your sister started this by her error in judgment.”

The man cast his eyes downward.

“This is what I’m prepared to do. You and Gibby will fight, and you will make it a good fight. You must hit him, because he will hit you. But after a reasonable amount of time, let him knock you to the ground and stay down. And if you do that, I will see to it that your sister gets enough money to move to a new place where she can start her life over, away from this scandal. Whether or not she wants you to go with her, I’ll leave to her.”

Prattle’s eyelids shot up, and his eyes bulged. “You would do that for us?”

“For her, Prattle, not you. Also, I insist that neither of you speak of this incident again.”

The man picked up his wine glass and took another long drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his beefy hand.

“I’m glad she confessed to Sir Randolph. That was the right thing for her to do, and that is why I’m willing to do this for her. Now, do we have an agreement?”

The man looked calmer. “Yes, my lord. I know exactly what I must do.”

“Good.” Race slid a card toward Prattle. This is the name of my solicitor. The day after the fight, you are to take your sister to his office, and he will have everything ready for her.”

The man’s heavy cheeks trembled again. “I don’t know what to say except thank you kindly, my lord.”

“Nothing else need be said, Prattle. Feel free to finish your wine before you go, and from now on, take better care of your sister.”

Race rose and walked out the door.

Nineteen

My Dearest Grandson Alexander,

These words from Lord Chesterfield will serve you well as
you travel through life if you heed them: “The reputation
which you leave at one place where you have been will circulate,
and you will meet with it in twenty places where you
are to go. That is a labor never quite lost.”

Your loving Grandmother,
Lady Elder

T
ENSION COILED TIGHTLY IN
R
ACE, BUT HE HAD
never seen a more beautiful day in Hyde Park. There wasn’t a cloud in the azure sky. The sun beat warmly on his neck while a cool breeze stirred the midday air. A boxing match always drew crowds, especially if it was free, and this one had brought out thousands from every walk of life.

Race had never seen so many people in the park. There was chatter and laughter all around him. In the distance he heard someone playing a lively tune on a flute, and he smelled the harsh scent of burned wood from camp fires. Carriages of every size and description, from gigs, curricles, and fancy coaches, had been brought in close to the ring with men, women, and children standing on the seats, sitting on the roof tops, and hanging off the sides of them, hoping to get even a glimpse of the fight. More than half of the crowd that had gathered wouldn’t be able to see any of the much touted pugilists’ match between Gibby and Prattle, even though Gibby had picked the highest mound in the grassy park to set up the prize ring. It was highly unlikely that more than a couple of hundred would be able to see any of it, but thousands would be able to say they had attended.

Pugilism had long been one of the most fashionable of amusements in London, even though it was usually brutal, ending only after one of the bruisers was unable to come to the scratch, which was the center of the ring, and continue the fight.

Race groaned silently at that thought. He didn’t know if he could trust Prattle to keep his end of their bargain and not do irreparable damage to Gibby, but Race had resigned himself to the fact that he’d done all he could to ensure that Gibby wouldn’t be hurt too badly. And to ensure that Gibby wouldn’t ever find out what he had done to help him.