THE DEFIANT LADY (18 page)

She chuckled. “Who do you deserve, sir?”

“A woman worth the title of Marchioness,” he said mysteriously, but gave her a look that was meant to entrance her. He tamped down his feelings of disgust when her eyes widened and she greedily licked her lips. The woman wanted a title, not the man behind it.

“I think you could be that woman.”

When she smiled, he felt a surge of victory. They would have the truth and soon.

***

Cy stayed by Ivy’s side throughout the night and refused to let her out his sight. He danced with her more than was proper, and he would not let her dance with anyone he did not know, for fear of improper conversation and Ivy’s discovery of the horrid rumor.

When they stood conversing with friends and her family, he leaned down to whisper compliments and witty comments in her ear. Every so often he would catch her gazing at her engagement ring. His fear was measured with excitement. She would be his wife soon.

 
Wanting a private moment with Ivy, he escorted her onto the balcony. He sat close to her on the marble bench as other couples farther away remained well within eyesight. He took a deep breath of air and was content to look at her. She smiled at him, her face open, guileless. Every emotion registered across her lovely face; he loved that about her.

“Do you realize we are to be married in three weeks?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It seems only yesterday I stepped off the ship from France.”

“Do you miss Paris?”
 

“I miss my mother, but that is not the same thing.”

He touched her cheek softly. She came from a humble beginning, and the moment her mother had died, she had nothing. “I want to give you everything, so you never have to worry again.”

She turned glowing jade eyes to his and stretched her body up to kiss him. He wanted to run his fingers through her pinned hair, but he stilled his movements and settled for bringing her body close to his for a tender embrace.

When they pulled away from their kiss, Cy gave Ivy a few minutes to catch her breath, and then decided it was time to return to the ballroom. Spending any more time in the dark corner of a balcony with her was dangerous. It took all his willpower not to throw up her skirts and make love to her on the bench.

When they strolled through the double French doors that led back into the ballroom, Cy caught Beaufort’s eye who nodded. Cy needed to speak with him, for it was clear Beaufort had information. Not wishing to leave her unattended, Cy escorted Ivy to her grandmother and Willow, and looked to the Duchess.

As if on cue, the old woman feigned, “Oh my, I am positively exhausted. I think it is time to depart this glorious evening, though I hate to pull you and Willow away from the festivities.”

“Not at all, Grandmother. If you are tired we shall leave,” Ivy said.

“Absolutely,” Willow agreed.

“I shall escort you to your carriage,” Cy said as he waved down a footman to see to the Cavehill coach.

“You are leaving!” the Countess of Langley pouted in Ivy’s direction. “We barely had a chance to speak all evening.”

“That is my fault, Lady Langley,” Cy said smoothly. “I was occupying most of my fiancée’s time.”

Ivy turned to the Countess and said, “Thank you for hosting such a lovely party in our honor.”

“It was our pleasure, was it not?” She looked to her husband and received a confirmatory nod.

“It was, indeed. Good night ladies,” Langley replied.

Cy saw them to their carriage, and then said to Langley, “We should find Beaufort and speak to him now.”

They congregated in the library and Langley locked the door so other guests getting lost on their way to the water closet would not disturb them.

Beaufort did not waste any time relaying his thoughts. “I am quite convinced that Miss Fitzgerald is the source of all this unpleasantness.” He went on to recount his dance with the chit. “She is a spoiled woman that cares for nothing except a title and the status it will bring her.”

Cy cursed and then swallowed a hefty amount of brandy that Langley had given him.
 

“That still does not explain how she found out,” Langley remarked. “Was there anything in writing?”
 

Cy nodded in affirmation. “Of course. There was a contract, but it was dissolved.”

“Perhaps Miss Fitzgerald got her hands on it,” Beaufort suggested.

“I am going to speak to Fitzgerald,” Cy said.

“And say what?” Langley asked. “Are you going to accuse his daughter of slander?”

Cy stood and went for his coat that he had shrugged off. “I shall do no such thing. I am a gentleman, after all. I will speak plainly and hope the man has some insight.”

***

Ivy was in the process of removing the pins from her hair when there was a knock on her bedroom door. She had dismissed her maid, and now she was alone.

“Come in,” she called.

Willow stepped into the room, clad in her nightgown and robe. “May I speak with you?” Willow asked.

“By all means.” Ivy picked up her brush and began to untangle her curls.

“Lieutenant Beaufort ignored me all evening,” Willow said tartly.

“Who is able to ignore you, dear sister?” Ivy teased. “You are beautiful and lively.”

“This is serious, Ivy.”

“I thought you were not going to settle on him,” Ivy said, sobering. “Grandmother disapproves of him.”

Shrugging, Willow plopped down on the side of the bed. “I cannot help it. Other men bore me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because,” Willow answered in exasperation, “I danced with a handful of them tonight. They were all pleasant, but...”

“But not Lieutenant Beaufort,” Ivy finished.

Willow nodded morosely. “I do not care that he is untitled. The other night when we danced and spoke, he made me feel like I had known him forever. I did not have to guard my words so closely.”

Ivy sighed. It was exactly how she felt about Cy. It seemed her sister was well on her way to becoming infatuated with the handsome lieutenant.

“I saw him dancing with Miss Fitzgerald.”

Ivy stopped brushing her hair and shrugged. “It does not mean anything.”

Willow sighed in frustration. “He was by her side all evening! And he did not just ignore me when he caught me looking at him, he turned away!”

“You were staring at him?” Willow glared and Ivy went on, “Never mind. It has to be a misunderstanding. The man seemed quite taken with you when you first met.”

“You think so?” Willow asked hopefully.

“I know I should echo Grandmother’s sentiments, because it would be easier if you set your sights on someone else. Still, the heart wants what it wants.” She paused. “Shall I ask Cy about it? Maybe he is privy to Beaufort’s thoughts. They are friends.”

Willow tossed glossy blonde hair over her shoulder and haughtily replied, “Grandmother is right, he is not worthy. Ask Stanton if you wish, but from this day forward, if I encounter Lieutenant Beaufort in a public setting, I will show him no more favor than any other escort.” She swept from the room, head held high with pride, but not with the slightest bit of pretention.

***

Emily Fitzgerald stretched lazily and smiled at the lacy white canopy of her luxurious bed. She wallowed in the crisp white sheets as she thought about the previous night. She started humming as she rang for her maid to help her dress.

“Did you have a good time at the ball, Miss?” her maid asked.

Emily smiled prettily and replied, “It was a lovely ball, Mary.”

 
She was consumed with thoughts of Lieutenant Beaufort, hoping he would call on her soon. Perhaps she would ask her father to invite him to dinner. Maybe then she could manipulate him into telling her of his intentions, and whether or not he wanted to become a marquess.

As Emily walked to the dining room for a late morning breakfast, she asked Cartwright, the butler, “Is my father in his study?”

“No, Miss Emily,” Cartwright answered. “Your father went out this morning.”

Emily’s eyebrows rose. “Where?”

“I do not know,” he answered very much out of character. Cartwright knew everything that went on in the household and was paid well for being highly attentive. It was doubtful he did not know the whereabouts of Lord Fitzgerald.

 
So preoccupied in her own thoughts about becoming a marchioness, she did not challenge his statement. “When he returns, please let me know. I must speak with him at once.”

***

 
“Thank you for coming on short notice,” Cy said to Fitzgerald. “I have asked the Count of Langley to join us.”

Fitzgerald waved his hand dismissively. “Not at all. Your message was quite vague, sir.”

“Did you hear the rumor circulating about my father’s debt?” Cy asked without preamble.
 

Fitzgerald squirmed in his chair, and nodded.

“Only three people knew about it. The Duchess of Cavehill, the Count of Langley and you.”

Fitzgerald’s voice shook when he spoke, “I did not relay any of our conversations to anyone. I kept that information between us. I am
not
responsible for the rumor, I swear it.”

Cy stared at Fitzgerald and then said, “I believe you, but the matter is not resolved. Someone in your household
must
have gotten wind of it. It is the only viable explanation.”

Fitzgerald was shocked. “You cannot possibly think my staff would gossip.”

“It is not out of the ordinary for servants to whisper about their above stairs employers. It is also well known that servants spread rumors faster than anyone,” Langley interjected.

Fitzgerald ran a hand through his hair, which made it stand on end. “My staff is known for their discretion, and we pay them handsomely for it, I assure you,” he admitted.

Cy’s brow rose as he inquired, “Why would you pay your servants for discretion?”

“My daughter,” Fitzgerald explained. “She is my only child. I admit my wife and I have indulged her every whim. She wants for nothing. She has a temper, My Lord.” He looked pleadingly at Cy. “Please do not force me to go into more detail.”

Langley looked at Fitzgerald and point blankly asked, “Do you think your daughter could be the cause of this?”

Fitzgerald blanched. “I am well aware of her imperfections, but I do not believe her to be malevolent.”

“Have you destroyed the evidence of the marriage contract?” Cy asked.

Fitzgerald shook his head and looked embarrassed. “I meant to, but I have not seen to it yet. However, it is in a locked drawer, and I am the only one with a key.”

“You will burn the document,” Cy said, his voice implacable.

“Absolutely. I will see to it at once.”
 

“I am glad my instincts are correct, Fitzgerald. I believe you can be trusted. Thank you for coming,” Cy said, abruptly ending their discussion. He shook Fitzgerald’s hand. “I would appreciate your discretion about our conversation today.”

Fitzgerald nodded in agreement. “Of course.”

When Fitzgerald was gone, Langley looked at Cy and said, “That man is in full denial about his daughter.”

Cy agreed. “If our theory is correct, then it is time to utilize Beaufort and his valet.”

Langley grinned. “It is too bad you never wanted to work for His Majesty’s government. They would have gained a master strategist.”

“If this blows up in our faces I may have to join His Majesty’s navy in order to escape Ivy’s wrath.”

“Do not fear. Your fiancée will remain well protected from gossip, thanks to the Duchess.” Langley slapped his friend on the back.

“I hope you are right,” Cy said resolutely.

***

Two days later, Beaufort perversely thought of doing bodily harm to Stanton and Langley. He was dining with Lord and Lady Fitzgerald and their daughter, Miss Emily and he was ready to jump out the window to make an escape. The girl’s insipid eyelash batting and lack of sparkle could not be masked by mere beauty. Beaufort had no idea how Stanton had thought he could marry the bland chit and remain sane. She was driving him daft.

He briefly thought of Miss Willow Sinclair. What was she doing? What would she be like to dine with? Conversation would be lively and intelligent, and her eyes would gleam like sapphires.

Forcing his attention back to the woman at the table, he asked banally, “Do you like to ride, Miss Fitzgerald?”

She shook her pretty blonde head from side to side. “No, sir. I prefer carriage rides through the park.” She gazed at him imploringly.

Playing the role of interested suitor, he said, “I would be happy to drive you. Is tomorrow too soon?”

“Tomorrow would be lovely.” She smiled at him demurely.

Beaufort thought of the stallion he had seen earlier that day at Southall Market. It was a beautiful animal, unrivaled by any that Beaufort currently owned. He would demand it as a gift from Stanton and Langley as payment for engaging in this charade.

He wondered how this would affect his future courting of Willow. She might never forgive him for his pretend snub, which to her was very real. Before this farce, he had every intention of pursuing her. She never asked about his title; she was interested in him as a man and his experiences. He hated having to stay away from her, but Miss Fitzgerald could not know of his true feelings. Only then would the dull girl give him the information he sought.

Before he left for dinner with the Fitzgeralds, he instructed Sampson, his loyal valet, to find out all he could about who started the rumor.

“I am counting on you, Sampson. I trust you.”

Sampson puffed up proudly. “I will not let you down, sir.”

Beaufort was eager to find out what Sampson would discover. It was a genius idea to use servants to uncover the truth, and Beaufort was not about to let the opportunity slip away. Most members of the
ton
did not realize their servants knew more than anyone in polite society.

“Cigars and port?” Fitzgerald asked once dinner was over.

Settling in a comfortable leather-backed chair with a fine cigar lit and a glass of port in his hand, Beaufort blew a thick, aromatic smoke ring and said, “Dinner was excellent. You have a wonderful cook.”