Never Entice an Earl (16 page)

“Be prepared to lose lots of money. We’re all very competitive.”

“All the better. Who doesn’t like a sharp-edged game, with potentially disastrous
chances?”

Rackmorton nodded. “We’ll take my carriage. Send yours home for the night if you like.”

It was nearly two o’clock when Daphne and her mother and sister returned to Wolverton’s
house in Hamilton Place. After kissing Wolverton good night, she and Clarissa went
upstairs.

“What a fun night,” declared Clarissa.

“Yes, it was very nice,” Daphne replied without enthusiasm. She couldn’t help it.
She felt so dissatisfied. She’d allowed Rackmorton to lead her about as if she belonged
to him, just to nettle Cormack for telling her she shouldn’t, and now she feared she’d
encouraged the man. Why had she done that? But she knew the answer: to make Cormack
jealous. It had all been for naught, because by the end of the evening when she had
left, the two men appeared to be fast friends, which was strange being that Cormack
had warned her to stay away from the marquess.

“Soooo. What do you think about Mother and Mr. Birch?”

Daphne looked at her in surprise. “He…seems very nice.”

“They sat together all night. They talked and laughed together. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“What are you saying?”

“What if Mother gets married again?”

“Sometimes you are the silliest flibbertigibbet. She laughs and talks with lots of
people, some of them gentlemen. That doesn’t mean she’s going to marry them all.”

Clarissa looked at her with sudden seriousness. “Would you be upset if she did remarry?”

She closed her eyes, and in her mind saw her father’s smiling face, which made her
heart hurt, but she knew the right thing to say. “Of course not. She’s still young
and beautiful and I’d want her to be happy. I just wouldn’t want to encourage her
into something when she wasn’t at all ready, by proposing love matches where there
are none.”

“Yes, of course you’re right. Well, I suppose we’d best both get straight to sleep.
Tomorrow will be a late night! The Vauxhall Gala! I can’t wait.” Clarissa removed
her gloves, and ascended the staircase a few steps ahead of her.

“Neither can I,” Daphne declared.

She’d never gone to a gala, and everyone talked about what fun they were, if a bit
wild at times. Kincraig had already lined up a cadre of young gentlemen to escort
them and, yes, to keep them safe. Havering would also be there. She would go and have
such a fine time she’d forget all about Cormack.

As soon as Clarissa disappeared into her room, Daphne hesitated outside hers. Returning
back down the stairs, she entered the conservatory, where all the invitations to her
ball sat carefully organized in boxes. Moonlight streamed through the windows, reflecting
off wide palm fronds and the pale, round faces of night flowers. Their fragrance weighted
the air, intoxicating and lush, making her feel like doing something reckless.

Half of the envelopes had already been sealed by the footmen, but everything past
the
M
s were still open to be completed tomorrow. Part of her wanted to challenge him, to
call his bluff and see what he would do if she refused to carry through with his demands.

Still, she wrote the necessary address and enclosure card and inserted the envelope
into the
R
s. Tomorrow, Cormack, Lord Raikes, would receive his invitation.

Whether he attended was completely up to him.

A crash of thunder awakened Cormack from a dead sleep. He lay tangled in sheets, and
stared at the Venetian plasterwork medallion at the center of his robin’s-egg-blue
ceiling, attempting to command focus in a damnably blurry world.

Sunlight streamed through the parted curtains, along with the sound of birdsong and
horses clopping by.

Another crash rippled through his head, accompanied by a dagger blade of pain, straight
through his left eye. He groaned. “Oh, no.”

Lord, he shouldn’t have drunk so much, but the night had dragged on and he’d needed
drink just to survive the company of his companions, a vapid lot of thirty-something-year-old
children
concerned only with gambling away their fortunes and indulging the next piece of
willing female fluff—of which there had been endless supply, as long as coins flashed.
He’d done his best to focus on the cards, blocking out the sights and sounds of libertines
plundering a constant flow of purchased pleasure.

The night had left him more certain than ever his nephew, Michael, was the result
of force, and no love affair, because he could not imagine Laura ever falling in love,
even fleetingly, with any one of those lechers, at least two more of whom he had successfully
identified as members of the Invisibilis, Dump Dump Dinglemore and Charlie Churlish,
who when he’d inquired about their nicknames for each other had drunkenly flashed
identical medallions to the one he carried in his pocket.

That is, until Rackmorton threw them a blistering glare. It had taken him several
painful hours of carefully constructed conversation to deduce that neither had ever
been to Rathcrispin’s hunting lodge, and thus would never have crossed paths with
his sister.

He’d returned home, mortifyingly sotted and frustrated almost beyond bearing.

“You’re awake, I take it?”

Cormack started at the voice, and turned his head, which sent the world spinning again,
but somehow at the center of the vortex he perceived a man sitting in the chair by
the window, with long legs crossed at the ankles, his Hessians polished and gleaming.
A raised newspaper obscured his identity.

“Unfortunately,” he croaked.

Lowered, the paper revealed a familiar face. “Good afternoon, then.”

“Havering,” he said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Fox chuckled. “You look terrible.”

Cormack closed his eyes. “I feel terrible.”

Havering, for his part, did not look terrible but annoyingly sober and clear-eyed.
“It’s no surprise, when you run with that set.”

He wished he could say he had learned his lesson, but he would continue to do whatever
it took to break into the social circles that protected the man he sought from discovery.
He had to remain patient and trust his instincts that if he kept his eyes wide and
his ears open, he would deduce the identity of Laura’s seducer.

“I hope you don’t mind me letting myself in. No one answered the door. Nice house,
but you need some servants.” He folded the newspaper, in the most practiced and efficient
manner, and set it aside on the barrel-shaped table at his elbow, beside his top hat.

“I have servants…er…a
servant
.”

“Might it be that naked man or that naked woman sleeping under the table in the drawing
room?”

“Damn it, Jackson.” He raised up onto one elbow and squinted at Havering. He’d done
as Rackmorton suggested last night and dismissed Jackson for the evening. Clearly
Jackson had found his own entertainment.

“Oh, I see. The fellow. I don’t believe he’ll be providing valet services this morning,
judging from the number of bottles littered about the floor. First off you need a
good butler, and he’ll set up all the rest. Would you like me to make inquiries?”

“I’d be grateful, thank you.” He ran a hand through his hair, exerting the pressure
of his fingertips along the top of his skull, and in that small way, assuaging some
of the pain. “But certainly the proper staffing of my house is not why you’re here.”

“Lord no. I’ve come to enlist your help. Everyone else I can call on has other obligations.”
Havering stood and moved to stand beside the window, where he leaned his shoulder
against the frame and looked down to the street. “You’re my only hope.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I, along with their so-called cousin, Mr. Kincraig, have been tasked with chaperoning
the Bevington girls and a cadre of their declared suitors on an outing this afternoon.
They’ve invited three gentlemen each, their mother’s idea. Between you and me, Daphne
has long insisted that she will not marry, and Her Ladyship thought this might be
a way to encourage time with some suitable young gentlemen without being overly pushy
in trying to change her mind.”

Daphne? Not marry? He couldn’t imagine that her passionate nature would ever allow
her to live her life alone, without someone to love.

“If you have Mr. Kincraig’s assistance, why do you need me?”

“Kincraig is…undependable at best. Not to mention only ever one step ahead of the
most salacious imbroglios. You name the scandal, and he’s likely had a hand in it.”

“Duels?”

“Of course.”

“Gambling?”

“He’s lost his fortune, several times over.” He smiled. “But he’s got a golden touch,
it seems, in that he always wins it back.”

“No doubt he’s a seducer as well.”

“Hmmm, yes. The latest scandal involving some governess, I hear.”

Cormack lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. But at hearing the words
scandal
and
governess
from Havering’s lips, he mentally stood at attention.

“Most gentlemen of my acquaintance consider governesses forbidden quarry.”

“Let’s just say that from what I hear, while a guest at a northern hunting estate,
our Mr. Kincraig was rumored to have been hunting more than the deer.”

Cormack tensed, his blood turning to ice. Could it be possible that the man responsible
for his sister’s destruction existed in closer proximity to Daphne than he could have
believed? That he was indeed a relative?

“Seems like I may have heard something about that. On whose estate did this take place?”
He waited…waited to hear more.

“I don’t know anymore, thankfully. Only that Wolverton was furious and summoned him
for a lecture.”

“Damn,” he growled, sinking again into his pillow.

“What did you say?”

“That damn, my head hurts. You called him a ‘so-called cousin.’ Why?”

Havering chuckled. “I just know I don’t trust him. There’s just something about the
way he appeared out of nowhere, presented by His Lordship’s investigators as a distant
relation and likely heir, when no one ever knew of his existence before. But if Wolverton
is satisfied, it’s not my place to demand details. I suppose it will all be sorted
out and verified before any letters patent is granted allowing him to assume the earldom.
Still, that doesn’t make him a suitable chaperone for the girls. You, I have much
better feeling about, despite your grievous lapse in judgment in going with Rackmorton
last night.”

“Haven’t you ever suffered a lapse in judgment?”

“You aren’t supposed to ask about that.” He grinned. “It also helps that you are already
betrothed. Won’t you let me formally introduce you to the Earl of Wolverton and Lady
Harwick? It should be an entertaining afternoon. Have you ever been to the Monument?”

Cormack blinked, his mind registering what Havering had just said, that he was betrothed.

“Amazing. I—I only shared the details of my situation with one person.” Rackmorton.

“That’s how things work here. You whisper something to one person, and before you
blink, the rest of the world knows.” Havering chuckled. “The sooner you learn, the
better. It wasn’t a secret, was it?”

N
o, of course not.” Still, in that moment his head ached more intensely.

Had Daphne heard? It was all he could think, but why should he care if she had? Because
he didn’t want her to think him a lout for kissing her when he knew full well he could
never, ever marry her because of the land agreement with Sir Snaith. Still, he would
have liked to have explained that to her himself. Inwardly, he battled with his conscience,
knowing he ought to stay away from her.

But…Mr. Kincraig would be there, and he needed to investigate him further.

“The fact that you’re not in the market for a wife and that I can vouch for your honor—”

He held silent, not splitting hairs with Havering. No, he wasn’t formally betrothed,
but he might as well be, because one day he would indeed marry the Snaith girl, and
in doing so, complete his intended destiny. His loyalty must be to his family, and
as part of that, he would have a closer look at Mr. Kincraig. This afternoon, in fact.
He knew better than to condemn the man on the spot, but this was precisely the sort
of information he’d hoped his efforts would provide. Was Kincraig a member of the
Invisibilis? And had he ever visited the hunting lodge of the Duke of Rathcrispin?
Those were the questions he had to answer before deciding his next course of action.

“Can you vouch for my honor?” With a groan, he rolled from the bed, taking the sheet
with him, for modesty’s sake. The world tipped and swayed, but he held himself steady,
and after everything righted itself, he padded across the carpet to the washbasin.

“I’ve got good instincts,” Fox assured, raising a fingertip. “I know you’d make a
suitable and, most important, a
formidable
chaperone, to assist me in keeping the overeager bucks, fortune hunters, and scoundrels
in line—and they are myriad, my fellow, converging at any given moment like hungry
hounds. I can’t claim to understand the workings of a woman’s mind. By my observation
they seem to lose all sensibility over the most black-hearted fellow, the one who
will, in turn, break their heart. But these two angels—both of whom are far too trusting
of the male gender—are my girls and I’ll do whatever necessary to protect them.”

Cormack glanced at his visitor in the mirror. “What makes you a suitable chaperone?
Are you married or spoken for?”

“No, not yet.”

Cormack fixed the sheet at his waist. “Then why don’t you marry them? Or, er…one of
them.”

He bent over the basin to splash water on his face.

“Heavens no, that would be like marrying a sister. A little bratty sister whom you
adore to pieces, but…no. Not marriage.”

Cormack reached for the towel. “How did you come to be so tight with the family?”

“We grew up in the country together, as neighbors.” He chuckled. “Their older brother,
Vinson, was my best friend.” His voice lowered as he said this.

“Was?” With a linen towel, he blotted the moisture from his face.

A shadow moved over Havering’s face. “You wouldn’t know that story, would you, being
so new to these circles. It was in all the papers. He died. Drowned, four years ago,
while we were on an expedition to New Guinea. He was always interested in plants and
bugs and scenery and the people of the world. He wanted to see all these things, not
just read about them in books, and I’d agreed to go with him.” He broke off. “But
that’s a story for another time.”

A moment of silence passed between them, then Cormack said quietly, “Again, your marrying
into the family would seem the obvious choice.”

He might be able to abide that, Daphne marrying Havering.

“To be blatantly honest, I did once have quite a
tendre
for the eldest, Sophia.” He smiled over steepled fingers. “But she is most happily
married now, and a duchess, and I am proud to call His Grace a friend. We shall see
what else life throws at me.”

There was something rueful and restless about Havering, as if he were a man who hadn’t
yet found his place.

“As for this outing today…Rackmorton, is he one of the Bevington suitors?” Cormack
asked, in all nonchalance.

Fox’s eyebrows went up. “He has certainly made his interest in Daphne known, but I
do not believe she shares the sentiment. I think she has good instincts.”

“After what I witnessed last night, I am relieved to hear that. I feared that you
and he were close friends.”

“It’s a dreadfully small world that converges every year for the season. For the most
part, we all know each other, but I wouldn’t call Rackmorton and me close, or even
friends.” He pulled his watch from his pocket. “Come along now, we’ve only just enough
time.”

Clarissa tied the wide pink ribbon of her hat under her chin. “So we’ve decided on
the Monument, then?”

They made their way from their rooms to the staircase.

“Mother says the view of London is magnificent—if you can make it to the top.”

“You didn’t invite Rackmorton, did you?” Clarissa’s voice dipped low.

“Of course not.”

“Good, because last night he acted as if the two of you already had an understanding.”

“Which is precisely why I didn’t invite him.” Nothing about her season thus far had
changed her mind. She wasn’t marrying anyone, most especially him. There was also
the small detail that she’d seen him in London’s seediest gaming hall, in the company
of two prostitutes. Unlike Cormack, who had been at the Blue Swan searching for someone,
the marquess most assuredly hadn’t been there looking for anything but women and spirits
and a table at which to gamble. She remembered his predatory smile, and the way he
had lustily reached for those women. She couldn’t share that detail with her sister—or
with anyone, for that matter—but she’d never forget. How could she admire or respect
a man, after having seen him revel in such depraved environs?

Her sister drew on her gloves. “It’s as Sophia said, there’s something about the eyes.…On
the other hand, it would have been nice to invite that dashing Lord Raikes. His eyes
are nothing short of heaven.”

At hearing Cormack’s name from her sister’s lips, Daphne feigned insouciance. “Why
didn’t you, then?”

“It wasn’t me he was looking at so intently last night. But didn’t you hear?” She
tilted her head. “Oh, perhaps not. I think you were chatting with Kate this morning
when Mother told me. I was trying to decide which three gentlemen to invite on this
afternoon’s excursion, and of course, the earl came instantly to mind—but she told
me Lord Raikes is betrothed. All the ladies are devastated.”

Daphne gripped the banister, frozen between steps. Betrothed. Cormack…? For a moment,
everything went black. She couldn’t see or breathe.

“You’re certain?” she asked, through lips numb with shock.

What sort of man went around kissing young ladies when he was already betrothed? Only
the most dastardly of men, that’s who.

“Quite. You know how things are. The moment he walked into the room last night, there
were those who made it their business to know.” She gave a rueful snort. “Lucky girl!
She’s from the country, I hear, someone he knows from his family’s seat. Daphne, are
you coming?”

“Yes…of course.”

Clarissa continued to the drawing room, where her mother and grandfather could be
seen and heard speaking with Havering and Kincraig, who at Her Ladyship’s request
were to chaperone them on their afternoon excursion.

Daphne, however, hurried in the opposite direction, toward the conservatory—desperate
now to reclaim the invitation she’d written out the night before. She would not invite
Lord Raikes to her ball. Oh! She would blackmail him in return with a threat to tell
everyone he had deceived and kissed her. No London ballroom would ever welcome him
then.

Only she’d never actually tell anyone, because it would be too embarrassing a truth.
Yet upon entering the conservatory, the sight of an empty table met her.

“Mr. Ollister is delivering your invitations at this very moment,” said the housekeeper,
breezing in behind her, returning a cloisonné vase to a cabinet in the corner of the
room. “You must be so excited, Miss Bevington! Two weeks from now, and the house will
be transformed, all in celebration of you.”

“Yes,” she answered weakly. “I’m very…excited. Thank you, Mrs. Brightmore.”

Not wanting Mrs. Brightmore to see the expression on her face, which would certainly
tell the opposite story, she approached the birdcage and trailed her finger along
the wire frame. Inside, the little creatures sidled along their perch, eyeing her
and each other.

She had kissed the fiancé of another woman. The knowledge devastated her. She could
not help but feel doubly duped by Lord Raikes, and betrayed.

Mrs. Brightmore quit the room, but someone else entered. She stifled the urge to cry
out to the intruder that she needed a moment alone.

“You sent him an invitation to your ball, didn’t you?” Kate asked.

Daphne closed her eyes. How could she have been such a fool? “I’m sure I don’t know
who you mean.”

“Don’t be coy. Lord Raikes!”

“The footman has already taken them.” Daphne laughed in an attempt to sound lighthearted,
but the sound came out thick and rueful. “So it appears I have.”

Kate drew closer. “How thrilling. He really is the most impressive gentleman. I had
such a strong feeling about him. I like him, Daphne. I can’t help but hope he’s the
one to convince you to marry.”

“He is betrothed to someone else.”

Kate gripped her arm, her expression furious. “Daphne,
no
. The way he looked at you last night, why, I felt certain he had intentions. And
he…why, he kissed you last night as well! Didn’t he?”

“No,” Daphne denied emphatically, with a shake of her head. “He did not.”

“He
did
!” her friend exclaimed. “Your face confesses everything.”

“Oh, very well! He
did
,” Daphne confirmed.

“How could I have been so deceived? He is a rake of the lowest sort!”

Daphne grabbed both of Kate’s hands in hers. “You mustn’t tell anyone, most especially
Mother. There’d be a terrible fuss.”

Kate stared into her eyes. “I won’t,” she whispered, the rigid line of her shoulders
easing a degree. “Of course I won’t. Just don’t be alone with him ever again. You
must promise me.”

“You don’t have to coax an agreement from me.”

Steps sounded at the door, and once again Mrs. Brightmore entered. “Miss Bevington,
your guests have arrived, along with the carriages. Everyone’s waiting in the vestibule.”

“You must go and have a wonderful time,” Kate urged. “It’s the most certain way to
forget him.”

“You are right, of course. It really doesn’t matter that the invitation went out.
Even if he does attend, I’ll be so busy enjoying myself, I’ll never see him.”

“And isn’t that for the best?”

“It is. Lord Raikes who?” Daphne exclaimed.

“Perfect! Now tell me, who did you invite this afternoon?” Kate’s demeanor brightened.
“That handsome Sir Whinton, or perhaps the dashing Lord Batley? They both sent you
the most beautiful arrangements with the most charming sentiments written on their
cards.”

“I didn’t invite either of them.” Daphne put several steps between them.

Kate tilted her head in question. “Then who? Daphne, please tell me you invited someone
you actually like. As in for a possible future husband.”

The sound of male laughter echoed from the direction of the house entrance, along
with her sister’s delighted giggle.

“Oh, fig. There’s no time, I’ll tell you later. Everyone’s waiting on me.”

Parting ways with Kate, she neared the vestibule. Kate was right. She must simply
do as she’d always planned. She must throw herself into the gaiety of the season.
Once it was over, she’d have such happy memories to cherish in those ensuing years
when she fully intended to devote herself to her family.

Pushing her shoulders back, she took a deep breath and pushed into the room and—

The breath died her lungs.

Cormack!
He stood beside Havering, staring at her with smoke-and-cinder eyes.

Well,
of course he did
, because she couldn’t imagine anything worse than seeing him now with her nerves
all in tatters, and today was apparently her day to suffer a thousand torments as
atonement for the sins of her past.

Well, she wasn’t going to run. She was going to have a splendid afternoon with her
three “suitors,” who in truth were just three dear friends, none of whom had any true
aspirations to wed her.

“Miss Daphne,” said Havering. “You remember Lord Raikes? I’ve recruited him to assist
me and Kincraig in chaperoning today’s affair.”

Daphne pushed out a smile, one she hoped appeared radiant and blasé. “Lord Raikes,
you say? Oh, yes. Now I remember. From the park. You weren’t at the musicale last
night. Oh, you were? I must not have seen you.”

Fox’s eyes narrowed. Cormack stepped smoothly forward and extended his hand. She stared
at it, at his long fingers with their squarish knuckles, plainly discernible through
his fitted gloves. He had such masculine hands. Those hands had touched her. Sweetly
in the past, but far more intimately in her dreams. Those dreams crowded her mind,
making her blush.

Everyone watched and waited. Breathing through her nose, she lowered her hand into
his.

Even through two layers of leather, the contact
shocked
, moving through her palm and up her arm to spiral in glorious, dazzling circles through
both of her breasts, which was the oddest thing, because he hadn’t even touched her
there.
Though last night, for the briefest moment, she’d wanted him to. She remembered the
dream, and what he’d done with the flowers, and his mouth—

He hesitated, glancing darkly into her eyes, then bowed, lightly pressing his lips…to
her knuckles.

Her legs weakened—

She swayed, nearly toppling, but Kincraig, of all people, caught her by the arm and
waist. Her mother called her name. Cormack reached as well but stopped short of touching
her. Other male figures crowded about, all inquiring over her well-being.