Three Proposals and a Scandal: A Sons of Sin Novella (7 page)

Ignoring the unceremonious welcome, Richard closed the library door and sauntered across to sit without invitation on the leather chair facing the one Jonas occupied.

“There’s a definite whiff of bear lurking in his den,” he said lightly. He reached toward the table between the chairs and filled a glass from the decanter of brandy set there. “Shall I call for candles?”

“Don’t you bloody dare,” Jonas grunted, shaking his head as Richard raised the decanter in his direction. His glass was half full. He’d retreated in here for a quiet drink before dinner and found the privacy more to his taste than the liquor.

“Definitely a bear in a cave.” Richard smiled through the firelit gloom.

“Sidonie’s packed the place with a host of fools and mountebanks,” Jonas said. “I set up this confounded house party to get some business done, not to play host to every young buck in the ton without sense to keep out of the rain.”

“A grumpy bear,” Richard murmured, sipping his brandy and stretching his legs toward the flames. “It’s not your visitors’ fault that it’s raining too hard for them to travel.”

“It’s their fault that they’re here in the first place. I should have known there would be trouble when I let damned Baildon bring his daughter. But the man insisted—thought this was an ideal chance to finalize the match with Desborough.”

“Now we’re awash in Marianne Seaton’s admirers.”

Jonas surveyed his friend without pleasure. “I suppose you know Sidonie’s scheming to stymie Baildon’s plans.”

“Genevieve might have mentioned it. I believe Elias Thorne is somewhere about the house.”

“And that coxcomb Tranter imposed himself on my goodwill. If I’m not careful, Baildon will take all those lovely fields in Hampstead and sell them to someone else.”

“You’ll get over the disappointment, old man. You’re the richest cove in England.”

“I’d like to remain the richest cove in England, thank you very much.”

A silence fell, easier because Jonas had given vent to his irritation. Sighing, he leaned his head against the back of the chair. He closed his eyes and listened to the rain. Calmness stole into his restless soul. It wasn’t fair to blame Sidonie for this shambles. The awful weather had its part to play in turning his home into a madhouse. Or as Richard had jokingly remarked, an ark.

One thing was certain—if he had to house the melee for forty days and forty nights, he’d be up for murder before the sun shone again.

“Is he a coxcomb?” Richard asked idly after a long delay.

Jonas didn’t open his eyes. “Who?”

“Young Tranter. Society loves him. Handsome. Charming. Unattached. Good family.”

“Do you fear for your pre-eminence in the ton?”

“He’s a way to go before he’s a serious rival,” Richard said airily. “Surely he’d make a good choice for Marianne. I know Baildon wants Desborough and his political connections, but the fellow’s too old for her.”

Jonas lifted his head and regarded his friend thoughtfully. “I’ve heard a few disturbing whispers about Tranter.”

Richard looked interested, as well he might. Jonas’s sources of information were the best in Europe. “Have you indeed?”

“His fortune was no more than respectable, and he’s been playing deep in the hells. Not to mention that cutting such a dash doesn’t come cheap.”

Richard’s frown was troubled. “So he’s in need of an heiress. Should we warn Baildon and Marianne?”

“I will if I think the fellow looks likely to win the prize. He might inveigle himself into my house in pursuit of her, however I think he’s too late. According to her father, she’s all but accepted Desborough.”

“So Elias has no chance? That’s a pity. I thought they got along well last Christmas.”

“He’s another fortune hunter.”

“Do you think so? I would have said there was genuine feeling between them.”

“You’re a romantic.” He’d said the same thing to Sidonie.

Richard smiled without offense. “Undoubtedly, old chap. And I suspect beneath that crusty exterior, you are, too.”

“You’ve been talking to my wife.”

“I don’t need to.”

“As far as Sidonie’s concerned, my plans for houses in Hampstead can go to blazes as long as Marianne makes a love match.”

Richard laughed. “If I were a betting man, my money would be on her having her way.”

“Are you implying I’m under my wife’s thumb?” Jonas drawled with lazy amusement.

“I’m implying you’d do anything to make that woman happy—and that includes sacrificing a deal likely to net you another fortune.”

“True,” Jonas admitted. “But don’t tell her that.”

“So we’re backing Elias in this particular race?”

“I’m not convinced he’s after anything more than Marianne’s money.” Jonas paused. “And the lady plays her cards damn close to her chest. I have no idea which man she favors.”

“Trust Sidonie. She’s the most perceptive woman I know.”

“She is that. In the meantime, I might devote a little more attention to Tranter’s affairs.”

When matters were urgent, he kept in contact with his offices via homing pigeon. The speed of communication had helped him steal a march on many a competitor. A message dispatched to his London headquarters would be there in mere hours.

“Good idea. If he really is up to his neck in River Tick, we need to expose him before he gains ground with Marianne.”

Jonas’s laugh was rueful. “How my rivals would sneer. I used to be the most feared businessman in Christendom. Now I’m relegated to playing Cupid.”

Richard stood and clapped him on the shoulder. “Just another victim of true love, my friend. No point fighting the inevitable.”

Marianne discovered at dinner that Elias had joined the overcrowded house party. When she came downstairs, she caught the rumble of his distinctive baritone from the drawing room. Her breath stuck in her lungs, along with a curse. Could this awful day get any worse?

Struggling to present an impervious face, she braved the crush inside the room. This influx of unexpected guests tested even Ferney’s resources. The usually efficient chambermaid had been noticeably flustered when she’d brought Marianne’s hot water.

To Marianne’s dismay, the first person to approach her was Tranter. She wasn’t sure why she developed such a distaste for his company, but the prospect of his conversation made her want to run outside into the rain and never come back.

“Lady Marianne, you brighten this gloomy evening like the sun coming out from a cloud.”

Given that the room contained two of society’s greatest beauties in Sidonie and Genevieve, that was hardly tactful. Marianne dug up a smile. “My lord, any word on the flooding?”

“The flooding?” he asked, clearly disconcerted by her practical response to his overblown compliment.

Luckily Sidonie came up to save her. Less luckily, she brought Elias. “Marianne, the village isn’t in danger, but the low-lying fields are underwater. Jonas and his steward went out this afternoon to check.”

“I’m guessing this is the end of the hunting season,” Marianne said and turned to Elias. It was a battle to sound polite, but she almost managed it. “Lord Wilmott, I hadn’t expected to see you here.”

He tilted his eyebrows at the edge in her tone, then bowed. “Lady Marianne, how could I stay away? I trust you’re enjoying your visit.”

Sidonie, unlike the rest of the world, clearly didn’t trust her to be civil when she answered and rushed to speak. “Elias has been staying in Barstowe Hall with a view to renting it once we’ve finished renovations. I asked him to join us when the deluge started. The roof there leaks, you see.”

Marianne shot her friend a disbelieving glance. “How…inconvenient.” Meaning exactly the opposite. However rundown Barstowe might be, Lord Hillbrook would make sure that any property he owned was watertight.

Color marked Sidonie’s cheeks, but she soldiered on with the pretense that she sensed no undercurrents. “Lord Tranter, I’m sure you know Lord Wilmott.”

The bows the two men exchanged chilled the air several degrees.

“Wilmott,” Tranter bit out.

“Tranter.” Elias’s smile was insincere. “Didn’t know you were in the district.”

“London was a wilderness without its shining star.” He looked meaningfully at Marianne.

This time, Sidonie heard herself dismissed as a lesser light. Laughter flickered in her large brown eyes. “Oh, ungallant, Lord Tranter. As punishment, you must escort me into dinner.”

“But the marquess—” he said with barely hidden reluctance that made Marianne want to box his ears. His hostess had taken him in with a graciousness he didn’t deserve. The least he could do in return was treat her with respect.

Sidonie made a breezy gesture. “Oh, we’re basically camping with so many uninvited guests. We won’t stand on ceremony.”

The jab at uninvited guests repaid Tranter’s rudeness. Marianne met Elias’s black eyes and found an answering glimmer of humor. Fleetingly, she basked in the precious feeling of having a friend, before she reminded herself what an adept actor he was. She looked away and told her heart it had no right to ache.

Clearly expecting Tranter’s cooperation, Sidonie extended her arm. With a tightening of his heroic jaw, he complied, but not before shooting Elias a poisonous glance.

Sidonie turned to Elias and Marianne, her lovely face alight with triumph. “If you’d accompany Lady Marianne, Elias?”

The smile Elias gave Sidonie set Marianne’s secret, wayward heart cartwheeling again. He really was a gorgeous man. His physical appeal made it difficult to remember his self-serving agenda.

“Stop scowling, my love,” he muttered, turning to her and presenting his arm.

“Better to call me your bank deposit than your love,” she hissed, although the training of years revived and she kept her expression neutral as she placed her hand on his sleeve.

“I’m sure you’re much nicer to cuddle up with at night than cold old pound notes.”

She narrowed her eyes at him as they followed Hillbrook and Genevieve into the dining room. “You’ll never know.”

To her surprise, he laughed. “At least you’re going down fighting, my darling.”

She didn’t bother complaining about the empty endearment. What were a few darlings when he could lie about loving her? It would take more than soft words to convince her that he didn’t play her for a fool.

She could feel her father’s eyes boring into her back with enough disapproval to leave two smoking holes. What could she do when her hostess had so successfully cornered her? She and Sidonie needed to have a talk. It was pointless and needlessly cruel promoting Elias’s suit. And she must speak to Elias alone and make him understand that when her father threatened disinheritance if she married against his wishes, he was deadly serious. Marianne was well aware that losing her fortune meant losing Elias’s interest.

She told herself she’d much rather live in the real world than in a romantic fantasy. But the real world meant Desborough and romantic fantasy meant Elias Thorne with his wry smile and ability to make her laugh. Right now that seemed a dire choice indeed, even if she wanted to strangle Elias for following her to Wiltshire.

Sidonie had placed Marianne between Elias and the least voluble of Lord Hillbrook’s colleagues. Mr. Bullstrode addressed himself to the food and wine with an attention that discouraged Marianne’s most determined efforts at conversation.

In the end, she gave up and turned to the man on her other side. She’d learned early how to scotch unwelcome advances. Surely this was no different from those other occasions when she’d squashed a brash gentleman’s presumptions.

Fastening on a dismissive smile, she made her tone as frigid as the rain tumbling down outside. “So you’re thinking of moving to Wiltshire, my lord? I’m sure the Hillbrooks will be glad to have you as a neighbor.”

His eyes glittered with amusement. “Sidonie’s story was complete balderdash and you know it.”

She choked on her wine and unsteadily put the glass down. “Lord Wilmott—”

He snickered. “You should know by now the
grande dame
act doesn’t work with me.”

“It’s not an act,” she asserted in an undertone.

“It will turn into stifling fact if you marry Desborough.”

“Stop it.” She scrunched her napkin into a ball in her lap. The horrible truth was that she worried he was right. “We’re in public.”

“Does that mean you’ll meet me in private to discuss this?”

“No, it does not.” She stared down at her congealing lamb. She hadn’t had much appetite to begin with. Now even one bite would choke her. “I know you treat this futile pursuit as a great joke, but it’s mean.”

She chanced a glance at him. The dark eyes were watchful. She hoped to heaven he didn’t see past her disapproving façade to the troubled emotions churning inside her. She was so cursed weary of this continual push and pull when she was with Elias. She wanted him. She mistrusted him. She should run. His nearness made her itch to touch him.

“My pursuit of you is anything but a joke,” he said gently.

“Whatever it is, it’s unwelcome.” She caught her father’s hostile glower from further down the table. What joy. Another lecture was in store.

“I won’t back down,” Elias said stubbornly. “The marriage of a lovely, vital woman to a desiccated prune like Desborough is a travesty.”

“It’s none of your business,” she whispered desperately, her shaking hand closing hard around the stem of her crystal glass.

“And Tranter would bore you silly in five minutes.”

Although Elias’s voice was quiet, Tranter’s head jerked around. Marianne felt a frisson of alarm at the hatred in his eyes as he stared at Elias. It was the strongest emotion she’d ever seen him display. Usually he was so keen to appear the perfect gentleman that he had the depth of a puddle. Observing him now, she wondered if there were darker forces at work inside society’s favorite. Her attention fell on Desborough who chatted to Genevieve with a calmness that took no note of his chosen bride’s proximity to a handsome man of doubtful reputation.

Of course Desborough’s suit had her father’s approval and Marianne Seaton was famous as a dutiful daughter. Even during last year’s scandal, everybody had described her behavior as impeccable. Although she’d heard spiteful mutterings about Cam getting frostbite from his wooing and preferring a warmer bed than the Seaton chit’s.