Compromising Miss Tisdale (6 page)

James cleared his throat, changing the subject. “How long has it been?”

Duncan reflected for a moment. “Roughly thirty minutes. Before that, I estimate about two years.”

“At your family’s estate in the north? The one you were
exiled
to?”

He smiled at the memory. “Those were some unforgettable times. Exile was good to me.”

James laughed. “The moments we were indeed sober enough to remember. More importantly, those were some memorable
women
.”

“But it looks like my days of debauchery might be through.”

James gasped and clutched at his chest. “Say it isn’t so?”

“How I wish I could. Uncle Richard feels my behavior may jeopardize the reputation of the Earldom. Apparently, you cannot be both depraved and respectable.”

“Of course you can’t, but it’s your dissolution that makes you so entertaining to be around.”

“Well, thank you for that.”

“I supposed it’s your brother’s fault. Terribly inconvenient, his dying so unexpectedly.” James removed a flask from his coat’s inside pocket and passed it over.

He obliged, taking a long drink before handing it back. “It appears that he made quite a bit of progress restoring many of the estates my father let go to ruin, but there is still much work to be done to restore our family’s wealth.”

James tapped his chin with his finger. “I had no idea things were so dire.”

“Nobody does. It is our great family secret. The Bristol title has an unfortunate lack of funds attached to its name.”

James nodded. “I could help you with that. I’m not sure if your brother ever told you, but he and I were business partners on several occasions and I would gladly offer you the same advice on investments and such. We even shared the same solicitor for a time. I understand such a matter needs to be handled with the utmost discretion and you can be certain that I can be trusted to uphold your family’s secret.”

“Jason and I weren’t terribly chummy. After my father sent me to the country, we spoke very little. I believe my father thought I might actually sully his pristine reputation if I got too close.” Duncan looked out, into the gardens surrounding the theatre, then turned back to his friend. “I would gladly welcome any assistance. In fact, send your man over as soon as possible, for I want nothing to do with such things. I can’t be trusted with any coin or paper on my person for fear of spending it. But, my situation extends farther than simple finances.” Duncan reached for his friend’s flask and took another long drink before continuing. “Even though Jason led the life of a monk, our family’s name is still suffering the indignities of my parent’s scandal. My uncle wants honor restored and fears I will only make matters worse. I explained that it took years of dedication to cultivate my dubious reputation and will surely take twice as many to remedy the damage done, but he insists on gratification sooner rather than later.”

“You’ve never cared about what others wanted before, why start now?”

Duncan grew quiet, guilt hanging heavy in his throat. “My uncle took care of Jason and myself quite a bit growing up. When my parents would disappear for months on end, he would send for us to come and live with him till at least one of them returned. Even after my so-called banishment, it was Uncle Richard who still paid me the occasional visit. He did what he could to make certain we were cared for and, well, loved. I owe him as much.”

James tapped his finger to the cleft in his chin. “So, I am to assume that you need financial prosperity, respectability, honor, and security virtually overnight? That is your dilemma?”

Duncan chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. “In so many words, yes.”

He shrugged. “Should be simple enough.”

Duncan laughed outwardly now. “Simple? You call that simple?”

James arched an eyebrow. “Such a quandary is hardly original to noblemen like us.”

“How do you figure?”

“Your predicament is nothing new. Men of our station have been combating that very issue for years. And the solution is hardly novel. I’m quite surprised someone with your acumen hadn’t thought of it earlier.”

“Clearly, I am ignorant, so please enlighten me.”

“You need to marry.”

Duncan deflated. “Is that all?”

“Well, you can’t marry just anyone. She must be rich, but not
noveau riche.
And her family must be prominent. She needn’t be from a ducal house necessarily, but with rivaling status in its age and reputation. And since you’re such a cad, your wife will need to be the picture of morality. We’re talking the personification of righteousness-no skeletons in the closet, no relatives from the other side of the blanket, no scandals amongst third cousins. The gossip rags must have nothing on her or her family.”

Duncan felt his nostrils flair. “Yes, simple indeed. So, where exactly do you suggest I find this rich Lady Madonna?”

A slow smile crept up James’ face. “You’ve already met her.”

Confused, Duncan thought for a moment. Then he smacked into the great stone wall of realization at what his friend was implying. “Miss Tisdale? You’re suggesting I marry Miss Tisdale? The Miss Tisdale who you just finished telling me is waiting for the perfect husband–who no doubt has far more prestige and fortune than I?” Duncan turned and started walking back toward the curtain. “You’re cracked!”

“Wait!” James called after him.

Duncan stopped and turned around. “I have no time for foolishness or games.”

“But it’s not foolish. Ambrosia Tisdale is everything I described. You’d have to scour the globe to find a finer candidate. It’s her fourth Season and with her younger sister Tamsin coming up behind her, the timing couldn’t be better.”

“And how do you propose I convince her to marry me when she’s refused so many before? Hmmm?”

James shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t give her a choice.”

“And how do you suggest I do that? Render her unconscious and steal her away to Gretna?”

“Don’t be absurd, that would take far too much effort. You’ll simply have to find a way to compromise Miss Tisdale.”

“Compromise Miss Tisdale? And you have the audacity to call
me
absurd.”

James was beaming now. “Think back to an hour ago. If you had been anyone else, Miss Tisdale’s reputation would have been in shreds after being discovered in my arms. It doesn’t matter the circumstance, but rather the appearance of impropriety that can ruin any woman. All it would take is an unescorted walk through a garden, or simply a stolen kiss in a dark hallway. If you were to be seen by the right people, at the most favorable time, she would have no choice but to marry you.”

Duncan took another swig from the tin flask. “What if the girl simply has no desire to marry? What then?”

“Would it matter? She has something you need and will be no worse off after you take it. You’ve said it yourself a thousand times-all women want is a good name and a proper allowance. You have the former. And after you marry, her dowry will provide you with the latter. After you’ve secured her hand and fortune, you can deposit her at an estate somewhere and go on about living your own lives. Isn’t that what married couples always do? You’ll have everything you need, plus the added benefit of retaining your current lifestyle. If only every man could be so lucky.”

Duncan wasn’t sure if it was the brandy or the argument, but the daft proposition was beginning to sound almost reasonable.

“After how I’ve treated her, I doubt there’s even the slimmest of possibilities the chit will give me a second glance, let alone another opportunity.”

“If anyone can tempt a woman like Miss Tisdale, rest assured, it is you. Your late father is still being lauded at White’s for his prowess, and I’ve seen you in action enough times to know that you’ve clearly inherited his skill. Simply convince her that you care, using your Maddox charm, then when she least suspects it, compromise her discreetly enough not to make the papers, but completely enough to secure a marriage.”

Duncan’s conscience was beginning to make a rare appearance, casting doubt on the proposal. “Why don’t I just try to garner affection in a more traditional manner? I could make her fall in love with me so that she marries me willingly? Lord knows I’ve had enough doe-eyed girls follow me about. How difficult could it be?”

James shook his head. “That will never work. Besides, even if you were successful, it would take far too long. Women take forever to woo when done properly. And there is that dreaded social custom that dictates a rather lengthy period of betrothal. You need to marry quickly.”

James looked Duncan square in the eyes. “You said you owed your Uncle as much. He hasn’t long to live. What other options do you have?”

Duncan exhaled deeply.

He hadn’t any.

Chapter 8

“Why are we even discussing this? Obviously, I hadn’t any.”

Tamsin Tisdale crossed her arms over her chest. The petulant girl of ten and seven stood in the middle of the family’s jonquil drawing room, red hair wild about her shoulders and mud spattered across the hem of her dress from an afternoon ride.

Ambrosia took a calming breath, setting her tea cup back on its saucer. “That is not true, Tamsin. A lady always has options. In particular, she always has the option to walk away. You know good and well that you should not have engaged in such ill-bred behavior, and certainly not in the middle of Hyde Park. If you won’t be more considerate of your own reputation, I do hope you will at least be respectful of the rest of the family’s.”

“But you should have heard her go on like she did. The ninny wouldn’t stop boasting, so I suggested a few alternative activities.”

“None of which are fit to be repeated in the company of a lady. Really, Tamsin, what would papa say?” Rose said quietly, but firmly, from her position on a tufted ottoman, as she set her embroidery to the side.

Ambrosia raised an eyebrow at her youngest sister. “Rose, it looks as if you’ve only completed half your stitches. I realize that you would like to get back to your books, but a lady must become skilled in a variety of pursuits, not just the ones she likes best.”

She then turned her attention back to the fiery red-head. “Where was your decorum, Tamsin? What if word of your behavior gets out?”

“There’s no need to worry. I used large words and intelligent insults so there’s a decent chance she didn’t even realize she was being insulted.”

“Intelligent or otherwise, you should not have engaged in such behavior in public.” A new voice entered the conversation. “Now, in private-that’s a different matter altogether.”

The girls looked toward the doorway as their mother, Flora Tisdale, regally entered the room in a sumptuous gown of red and gold. She was far overdressed for an afternoon at home, but that was Flora.

Ambrosia rubbed her temples. Her mother was a generous hostess, loyal friend, and loving mother-but hardly ever a proper disciplinarian. “Mama,” she politely scolded in her ever-calm voice, “engaging in confrontation is never acceptable. Publicly or privately.”

“That Merriweather chit deserves every bit of what she got, especially if she’s anything like her wretched mother. But again,
not
in such a public place.” Flora sat on the sofa closest to Ambrosia and arranged her skirts. “Now, girls, run along up upstairs. Ambrosia, be a dear and do ring for some more tea?”

Ambrosia did as instructed. “Mama, you allow far too much. Tamsin has grown most incorrigible. It’s getting worse the closer she gets to coming out. Her manners are atrocious, her language offensive . . . I can’t even begin to imagine where she’s learned such things.”

“From your father. The same person you once learned it from.”

Ambrosia chose not to dignify that last remark with a response and watched her mother motion to a footman, who responded by delivering a tray of correspondence. She quickly scanned through the pile, stopping at one letter in particular. She excitedly picked up a gold letter opener and made quick work of the seal.

“What is it?” Ambrosia asked, curious as to the reason for her mother’s unusual enthusiasm regarding the post.

Flora smiled slyly. “It’s a reply to an invitation I sent out.”

Ambrosia helped herself to a cup of tea from the freshly delivered service. “To our ball? I had assumed everyone who was coming had already responded. Who on earth would have the bad manners to respond with such late notice?”

“The Earl of Bristol.”

Ambrosia tried to keep the hot beverage from spraying out her mouth, but ended up dribbling it down the front of her rose and cream striped muslin gown instead. “The Earl of Bristol?” she repeated, frantically dabbing at the spots with her napkin.

“Of course. It was the Duke of Kenning’s idea. Besides, we’ve always invited his Uncle and brother, so it was only fitting Lord Bristol be invited as well. Neither one of them has ever been terribly social, but I do hope the new Earl is different in that regard.”

“What of his parents? Did we not invite them?” Ambrosia asked, curiosity piqued by the mention of the Maddox family.

“That would be a different matter altogether. The previous Lord and Lady Bristol had removed themselves from polite society, so I hardly ever saw them.”

Ambrosia was intrigued, but hated to pry. “Removed themselves, you say?” she asked casually.

Her mother laughed. “Curious? Would you care for me to elaborate?”

Ambrosia straightened her back. “It would not be gossip if you simply recounted the events in a historically accurate manner.”

Flora nodded. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of engaging you in gossip, but I could manage to simply relay the events as they are known to me.” She took a sip of tea before starting what promised to be a most interesting story. “Lord Bristol’s mother was from the continent-French. But aren’t they always?” She playfully nudged her daughter who was completely lost at the suggestive remark. “His father was an avid gambler and lecher who lost much of the family’s fortune and the two of them were involved in several public dalliances. He died at the home of his much younger mistress-in a most disgraceful manner that I will spare you the details of. Unless of course, you’d like to know?”