Highest Stakes (38 page)

  These ruminations were interrupted by the footman, who lowered the steps with word the baronet would receive him without delay. His lordship gracefully alighted and paused to brush an imaginary speck of lint from his sleeve. He adjusted the Mechlin lace at his neck and cuffs, and advanced to the house. Another servant led him into the salon, where he paced the room edgily while awaiting the arrival of the man he remembered only as a loutish boor.

  In his library, Sir Garfield glanced in the mirror to straighten his lopsided peruque and wobbled more than walked to the salon to greet his potential in-law. He was surprised by the arrival, given Lord Uxeter's distaste for business matters. He had expected the reply through a solicitor rather than the prospective bridegroom.

  Had he anticipated the call, he might have abstained from so much drink, but he was still excessively put out by his earlier encounter with the younger Drake. Damn, but he was growing to dislike the whole family! The youngest son was an unscrupulous upstart, and the elder a patronizing, pompous ass, but he believed the connection would serve him well. He pasted on his most jovial smile.

  "'Tis is a most unanticipated pleasure, my lord." While Lord Uxeter made a punctilious bow, the baronet advanced and engulfed the viscount's pale, well-manicured hand in his own beefy one. The viscount forced a smile that failed to reach his eyes. The man was exactly the coarse buffoon he had remembered.

  "Please you to be seated, dear man." Sir Garfield assumed an armchair by the hearth, indicating another to his guest.

  Lord Uxeter ignored the gesture with a brush of his hand. He spoke tersely. "Pray forgive my dearth of pleasantries, sir. I am here only to clarify your proposal and wish to come directly to the point."

  "Indeed, indeed. Straight to business, I always say."

  "If I understand correctly, you have put forward your niece as a more suitable bride. While I do not dismiss the notion, my betrothal to your daughter, Beatrix, is already announced. How do you expect this to be accomplished without a scandal?"

  "If 'tis only that apprehension that concerns you, my lord, have no fear.
The Times
named a Wallace chit from Yorkshire. As my family is unknown in London, who would remark if you wed one Wallace chit or another? I should doubt the matter would be heeded at all." Sir Garfield smiled broadly.

  Lord Uxeter confessed the truth of it. Though his marriage might astonish some among his acquaintance, there would be no need to make explanations.

  "Have you any other objections, my lord?" Sir Garfield asked. "The dowry is acceptable?"

  "The dowry is adequate, sir." At thirty thousand pounds, it was actually a fortune, but Lord Hastings's will had provided the final impetus for his acceptance.

  "Then there's naught more than to plan the bridal, eh?"

  The man was no buffoon, after all, Edmund decided. This bumbling rustic just might be the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Just look at this, girls," Lady Felicia said to Charlotte and Beatrix as she read the social section of the Times. "There are six-and-thirty betrothal announcements today. I have counted six-and-thirty! One of them is even our foreign secretary, Lord Carteret! The man must be well over half a century, and here he's taking Lord Pomfret's daughter, Lady Sophia Fermor, to wife. She is reputedly younger than Lord Carteret's own daughter! I am shocked her father should allow the match with such a despicable lecher. Shocking! You remember what Major Drake said of the secretary and all his young girls!"

  "Mama," Beatrix interrupted, "the foreign secretary wasn't the debaucher. That was General… oh… General-something-French. The secretary is only a sot."

  "Beatrix, a lady does not speak so!" she admonished. "But look at the settlements, Beatrix!" her mother continued. "Upon my word, she is to have sixteen hundred pounds per year jointure, four hundred pounds pin money, and another two thousand in jewels. We must show this to your papa. As a future viscountess, you should have at least as much."

  A maid interrupted to notify Lady Felicia of a guest.

  "Well, who is it, Betsy?"

  "I don't know, mum, but 'tis an elegant gentleman arrived by private carriage and with a manservant to boot."

  Lady Felicia's curiosity was more than she could bear. She excused herself from the girls and breezed into the large salon. "Sir Garfield," she said, feigning surprise, "I was unaware we had a guest."

  "Allow me to introduce Viscount Uxeter, m'dear."

  "Lady Wallace? 'Tis a delight, I assure you." With an indifferent smile and perfunctory air kiss, Edmund accepted the lady's proffered hand. "Your husband and I have just concluded our business."

  Cluing his wife, Sir Garfield expounded, "Indeed, we were just now speaking of the upcoming bridal. Lord Uxeter has condescended to wed our Charlotte."

  "Charlotte? But what of Beatrix? 'Twas Trixie's betrothal we announced. My head quite spins! Surely you aren't saying that both girls are to wed Lord Uxeter?"

  "A ridiculous notion, m'dear."

  "But why do you say Charlotte? Beatrix is the elder and should rightfully wed first," she remonstrated.

  "'Tis inconsequential which of the girls weds first," he informed his bewildered wife. "His lordship has deemed Charlotte more suitable."

  "Charlotte! But she has not half the beauty or accomplishments of our Trixie! And what of the title? Beatrix was set on being a viscountess," she lamented as much for herself as for her daughter. Sir Garfield quelled her with a darkling look.

  "I suppose it makes little difference. They are both of marriageable age," she grudgingly ceded then addressed the prospective groom. "You will stay for tea, Lord Uxeter? I shall send for the girls."

  "S'pose it's nigh time to meet your bride, eh?" Sir Garfield added with a leer.

  When his hostess rang for both the teacart and the bride, Edmund perceived no escape.

  Beatrix entered first, with Charlotte demurely proceeding behind.

  "Lord Uxeter," Sir Garfield began, "I present my niece, Miss Charlotte Wallace, and my daughter, Lady Beatrix Wallace."

  Beatrix, paying little heed to the order of precedence in the introduction, stepped forward and dipped in her most graceful obeisance. "Lord Uxeter," she gushed, "how delightful to make your acquaintance. You are the second most pleasant surprise we have had this day."

  He lifted an inquiring brow.

  "Oh! I don't mean to
place
you second!" She giggled. "I meant to say that we learned this morning of a planned excursion to Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. This was the first surprise. My cousin, mother, and I were just discussing it. Have you been to Vauxhall, my lord? But how silly of me; of course, you have been. We are only newly arrived from Yorkshire, you see, and pleasure gardens are quite novel to us." She waved her fan and flashed a beguiling smile.

  "Indeed, I pine to see all the spectacles of London, but Vauxhall is first on the list. I hear there are even illuminations planned for the opening. In Yorkshire, one hardly has occasion for such things as fireworks. I can scarce describe my excitement!" she finished breathily.

  "Your enthusiasm is quite overwhelming," Edmund drawled, appalled by this babbling bovine who seemingly embodied all his aversions to the feminine gender. The idea of marriage to this vapid, chattering cow was completely repugnant, regardless of her fortune.

  Charlotte, lost in her own ruminations, had paid little heed to their visitor until Lady Felicia interceded and pushed her to the fore. "Lord Uxeter, my niece, Charlotte."

  Lord Uxeter's gaze raked her as if inspecting a horse at auction.

  "Pray present yourself to your betrothed, my dear," her aunt urged in a fierce whisper.

  As realization crawled up her spine, the color drained from Charlotte's face. "M-m-y betrothed? B-but Beatrix?"

  "There was a simple misunderstanding, dear girl. Nothing to trouble yourself with. All is most amicably resolved," Sir Garfield interjected while studying Lord Uxeter's reaction.

  Edmund smiled charmingly and bowed over Charlotte's limp hand, immensely relieved that this quiet and unassuming young woman was now his affianced. "Miss Wallace," he began after her compulsory curtsy, "no doubt this is come as a surprise." His words were sympathetic, but his smile was cold. "Your cousin speaks of Vauxhall. Since your family is unacquainted with the pleasure gardens and their nuances, it would be my greatest pleasure to accompany you."

  "We should be honored with your escort, my lord," Lady Felicia tittered.

  "How gracious," Beatrix replied. Charlotte sent her cousin an unheeded look of panic.

  "The pleasure gardens open at nine," Lord Uxeter continued, oblivious to Charlotte's discomfiture. "As one must cross the river by barge, my carriage shall collect you at precisely eight of the clock."

  Edmund bestowed Charlotte a last appraising look and turned to Sir Garfield. "The contract shall be executed, sir." He then took his leave.

  Charlotte's life had unraveled before her very eyes. Only this morning she and Robert had arranged an assignation at Handel's statue, but now with Lord Uxeter accompanying them, it would be impossible to sneak away.

  Why had she and Robert not run off together when they had had the chance?

  She had warned him their time was running out.

  And now it had.

A rriving
back at his quarters that afternoon, Philip found Robert wretchedly pacing the floors.

  "You look a mess, Devington. What has you so bedeviled?"

  "Charlotte's uncle has arranged to marry her off, and I am about to be dispatched to Flanders. I shall return to find her wed!"

  "If Sir Garfield brought his family to London expressly for that purpose, he will certainly see her wed. With no dearth of noble blood hemorrhaging their estates, he'll have no difficulty achieving what he seeks. A generous dowry covers a multitude of sins, you know, even common birth. I stand as living proof."

  "Then the deed's nigh done, and I don't see a deuced thing I can do about it!"

  "Short of absconding to Scotland, there's not a bloody thing to be done."

  "Are you advocating elopement? 'Twas the last suggestion I expected to hear from
you
."

  "As your commanding officer, I could hardly suggest such a thing," he answered sternly.

  "I thought my ears must have deceived me."

  "However… were I to speak as a friend who has long wearied of your perpetual pining, I might be pressed to encourage the notion."

  "It's not that I haven't considered it a thousand times, Philip. I live in daily fear of losing her, but I still have nothing to offer her by way of security. I could scarce put a roof over our heads on my pay."

  "How much longer do you think to dangle after her? If you wait 'til you make your fortune as a soldier, you will lose her. It may be time to play your cards or fold them, Devington."

  "I depart for Gravesend in a for'night. How could we possibly post to Gretna Green and back in time? Hard riding, it's got to be five days at least."

  "Then I suggest haste," Philip answered.

  Robert considered further. "We would have to leave straight away, tonight even. But how to steal Charlotte from under her uncle's nose?"