Miss Hillary Schools a Scoundrel (21 page)

“So, you will rescue my daughter from a life of spinsterhood?”

The man nodded. “Exactly. We understand each other. I want to marry your daughter.”

Another fortune hunter. None of them proclaimed to love his daughter. No one ever spoke of her happiness or what he could bring to the union. This was the true reason Lana remained unmarried. James had received many offers after his daughter’s broken betrothal with Paddock, but not one of her suitors had struck him as sincere, until Lord Andrew.

“I’m afraid my daughter doesn’t want to marry
you
, Bollrud. If you will excuse me, I have matters that require my attention.” He stalked from the room without a backward glance.

As Lana came down the staircase, angry voices drifted from the vestibule. Curious, she made her way toward the front of the house.

Lord Bollrud stood at the entry, his words coming out in a furious hiss. Lana couldn’t decipher what he said, but his demeanor communicated everything. His face contorted into an ugly mask of fury and he advanced on her lady’s maid.

Lana hurried forward. “Is there a problem?”

Her maid jumped and spun in place. Betsy’s face glowed red, and she cast her eyes downward. “N-no, miss. I… uh… ran into the gentleman. Almost caused him to fall. I should watch where I’m going.”

Lana blinked. Her mild-mannered maid had been arguing with a nobleman. What had Bollrud done to evoke such a strong reaction from the young woman?

Lana waved the maid from the vestibule. “You may go, Betsy.”

“Yes, miss.” The maid brushed past her, keeping her gaze on the floor. Perhaps she expected a scolding in private, but Lana didn’t doubt the man deserved whatever sharp words Betsy had delivered after witnessing the encounter.

Yet, he was a member of the nobility, and to disrespect him would be foolish. Lana adopted a penitent stance, lowering her eyes and clasping her hands at her waist. “Please accept my apologies, my lord. Such behavior is inexcusable, and I shall speak with her immediately.”

Lord Bollrud sniffed. “No need. I made myself clear to the clumsy chit.”

Lana bristled.
Of
all
people
to
call
another
clumsy.
She’d had quite enough of his toe treading at Irvine Castle to last a lifetime, and almost couldn’t believe the gentleman’s gall. He was nothing like the man she had thought him to be.

“Lord Bollrud, what are you doing at Hillary House? I thought you planned to call tomorrow.”

He glanced beyond her shoulder, fiddling with the hat in his hands.

She turned to see if someone stood behind her, and finding no one, she returned her attention to him.

His lips stretched into a strained smile. “I apologize, Miss Hillary. I thought we agreed upon today. Perhaps you would indulge me with a stroll in the park today after all, since I traveled all this way?”

Lana should send him away with no explanation after his ill treatment of her maid, but perhaps settling the matter would be best. He deserved the courtesy of knowing he should pursue other prospects in his search for a wife, especially since she had accepted Drew’s proposal.

“Unfortunately, my lord, I must decline, but if I might request a brief word with you.”

He grinned, smoothing his newly sprouted mustache with his thumb and index finger. Truly, the man was oblivious to fashion. No respectable gent sported facial hair. “Shall we move to a private area, my dear?”

Drat.

Her body quaked. Given her experience with delivering unwelcome news to a suitor, she wouldn’t place herself in the same precarious position.

“I must insist on an escort, my lord, to protect against rumors.”

Anger flashed in his eyes even though he produced a strained smile. “I understand, Miss Hillary. I’m sure propriety is important to you.”

Lana turned away before he noticed her blush. Given her behavior with Drew, propriety must be last on her list of values. “Allow me to locate a servant.”

She found a footman and instructed him to stay with her until the gentleman left the premises. Returning to the vestibule, she led Lord Bollrud to the first floor formal drawing room, which boasted uncomfortable furnishings with the hope visitors taken there wouldn’t stay long.

He followed in his lumbering gait.

Before he could close the door, Lana stopped him. “Leave it open. Truly, this won’t take but a moment. And you needn’t bother sitting.”

His expression turned to stone. “As you wish.”

Lana wiped her wet palms on her skirt as her stomach churned, leaving her slightly nauseated. Even with the servant present, the situation mirrored her encounter with Paddock too closely for her comfort.

She drew in a shaky breath. “Lord Bollrud, I believe your intentions to be honorable—”

“Very honorable, Miss Hillary,” he said, rushing forward.

Lana held up her hands and scooted behind a chair to create a barrier between them. “Please, my lord. I have something to say, and I would be grateful if you allowed me to finish.” She bit her lip to fight against blurting everything before dashing from the room. She refused to allow her past to turn her into a skittish kitten.

“You look pale, Miss Hillary. Are you ill?”

Lana would like to jump on the excuse he offered, but then she would have to deal with him again. Better to put a stop to his courtship immediately.

She cleared her throat. “I don’t wish to cause you any inconvenience, but I am unable to encourage your courtship. In fact, I must cancel our appointment for tomorrow. I’m afraid my affections lie elsewhere. Just last evening I accepted an offer of marriage, and the marriage contract is under negotiation.”

He frowned, his face flushing scarlet. “You can’t possibly mean Forest.”

She lifted her chin. “And why
not
Lord Andrew?”

“I know men like him,” he growled, baring his teeth. “Forest is nothing more than a mongrel sniffin’ round a bitch in heat.”

With a loud gasp, Lana’s hand flew to her chest and she stumbled backwards. Never had anyone insulted her as he had. The gentleman had essentially labeled her the most insulting thing anyone could call a lady. “You should leave, sir.”

The footman stepped forward to remove him from the room.

He sneered. “You are making a huge mistake. Jus’ wait and see.” The blackguard whipped around and stalked from the room, slamming the door as he went.

“Please make certain he leaves Hillary House.”

The footman offered a quick bow and trailed him.

Lana’s legs shook and she collapsed on the settee. A strong tremor wracked her body, and she hugged her arms around herself. She was uncertain how long she sat there—the clock may have chimed twice—but it seemed her shaking might never cease.

Once she recovered enough to walk, she escaped to her chambers.

Betsy was hanging pressed gowns in her wardrobe, but she stopped to stare when Lana entered. “Miss, please forgive me for upsetting the gentleman.”

Lana’s wobbly legs carried her to the dressing table, and she plopped into the chair. She took a fortifying breath, chiding herself for allowing her unpleasant encounter to affect her as it did. “No need for apologies, Betsy. The man is deplorable.”

Her lady’s maid fidgeted with her apron. “Be that as it may…” Betsy slowly returned to her task, but a moment later, turned back. “Miss Hillary, do you not welcome the lord’s courtship? He appears a good choice given…” She trailed off and dropped her eyes.

Lana clenched her teeth, a surge of irritation heating her body. “You mean given I’ve completed a second season without an offer of marriage?”

Betsy had the decency to blush.

“I’m not so desperate as to accept Bollrud.” Lana yanked pins from her hair to relieve the slight headache beginning at the base of her neck. “You may be surprised to learn I have received another offer.”

Betsy balked. “Is it the duke’s son? The one you sent a message?”

Despite her annoyance with her maid’s impertinent questions, Lana’s expression in the looking glass softened as she thought of Drew. “Lord Andrew is the one.”

“Congratulations, miss.” Betsy sucked her bottom lip, a pained expression creasing her brow.

“Speak up, Betsy. Something is troubling you.”

“No, miss.” She positioned herself behind Lana and assisted with removing the pins before picking up the brush and pulling it through her auburn locks. “Please don’t think me rude, miss, but are you certain it is wise to marry Lord Andrew? I have heard the gentleman is a scoundrel. Wouldn’t Lord Bollrud present a better choice?”

Lana’s contentment was short-lived. She held her hand out for the brush. “You may tend to your other duties,” she snapped. Her affairs didn’t concern her servant, and she would not answer to her.

Her chamber door swung open, and Lana almost groaned when her mother’s image reflected in the mirror.

“You never uttered a word.” Her mother’s statement sounded like an accusation, and she planted her hands on her slender hips. “You kept a secret from your own mother.”

Lana didn’t stop her toilette. She couldn’t be certain what she had kept from her mother, but took a guess. “Lord Andrew and I only recently decided we would suit, Mama.”

Her mother marched to the dressing table, shooting a look toward Betsy. Her lady’s maid placed the last dress in the wardrobe and dashed for the door. Lana wished she could make her own escape with as little effort.

Her mother clutched Lana’s hands, her demeanor grave. “Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me of Lord Andrew’s courtship?”

Lana tried to slip her hands from her mother’s grasp without making it too obvious. “You were in Northumberland.”

Her mother captured her wrists again, holding tight, while her eyes bore into Lana’s. “Tell me this is
your
choice. I must know you aren’t marrying Foxhaven’s son because you have to.”

“Don’t be silly.” Lana tried to pull her hands away, but her mother’s grip tightened.

“You didn’t answer me. Do not marry this man because you believe you have no other choice. I made that mistake, and I have lived to regret it.”

“Mama. You can’t mean—”

Her mother released Lana’s wrists and stepped away. “Nothing like that. Your father never touched me before we spoke our vows.” She scoffed. “He was a paragon of morality.”

Lana winced at the bitterness in her mother’s voice. “Do you truly hate him?” She had wanted to ask this question for a long time, but now that it was out, she didn’t know if she could cope with her mother’s answer.

Her mother covered her mouth, and tears flooded her eyes. Swiping at them, she fluttered her lashes, as if trying to stanch their flow. She sank onto an armless Queen Anne chair and leaned against the emerald green cushion with a shuddering sigh. “I don’t hate your father. Perhaps everything would be easier if I did.”

Lana’s stomach quivered. Hadn’t she thought something similar of Drew not long ago?

Her mother’s gaze locked on her again. “Lana, does Lord Andrew love you?”

She pictured his marvelous azure eyes, so expressive. Immediately, Lana’s misgivings evaporated. “Yes, and I love him.”

Her mother released her breath in a whoosh as if she had been holding it. “I never would have pushed that awful Lord Bollrud on you if I had known.”

Indignation straightened her spine. “Lord Bollrud is only awful if I have another option available? Someone with more prestige?”

“Now you are the silly one. I didn’t realize how horrendous the man was until last night.” She scrunched her face. “His manners are atrocious, darling. Did Her Grace never serve soup at Irvine Castle?”

Lana giggled in spite of her annoyance. Leave it to Mama to find soup slurping the most heinous of Bollrud’s crimes. “You must have missed his dancing as well,” Lana said. “If one would even call his stomping of toes dancing.”

Her mother grimaced. “Another reason to scratch Bavaria from my future travel plans. All that toe smashing and noisy eating. I think I would feel out of place.”

They both laughed, the tension in Lana’s shoulders melting away.

Her mother folded her hands in her lap and pressed her lips together as if considering what to say. “Will you tell me about Lord Andrew?” Her voice trembled as if Lana might deny her request.

“You know him already, Mama.” Lana would have liked to keep her complete adoration a secret, but her huge smile betrayed her. Then she twittered like a harebrained debutante. If she didn’t feel elated, she would be disgusted with herself. “He is amazing,” she finally admitted, leaning forward. “Too incredible for words.”

Her mother clapped her hands and leapt from her seat. “Lana, how wonderful. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.”

“One might think
you
are newly betrothed,” Lana teased, delighted by her mother’s dramatic reaction.

“I might as well be.” Her mother grasped Lana’s hands to encourage her to stand. “I couldn’t be more excited if I
were
the bride-to-be.”

She twirled Lana around the room as she had done occasionally when Lana was a young girl. They hopped the steps of a country-dance while her mother hummed a lively tune. Laughing with joy, they collapsed onto chairs to catch their breath.

Lana studied her mother, some of her happiness dissipating. This lighthearted creature she called Mama often made an appearance right before she left on one of her trips. Lana enjoyed this mother and didn’t want her to go away again.

“Mama, I need you right now.”

Her mother’s smile faded as she gazed at Lana. A heavy silence hung in the air. “I won’t go anywhere, my darling.”

Seated four seats down on the opposite side from Bollrud, Lana tried her best to ignore his glowers. The gentleman’s barely concealed anger made her hands tremble. Her engagement should be a happy occasion, but instead of overflowing with joy, her chest was heavy. She never should have consented to extending an invitation to him. Even though he was a guest of her future in-laws, she didn’t want him at her celebration.

Drew’s hand brushed against hers as he reached for his water goblet, and she returned her attention to him.

“You appear to be woolgathering,” he murmured. “I suppose you are thinking of ways to make amends.”

Her gaze snapped up to meet his amused expression. “And for what should I make amends?”

“For the horrible lack of attention I’ve received over the last few days.” He smiled rakishly, sending her pulse racing. “I could supply several ideas if you are short on them.”

She spoke in a soft voice. “I’m never short on ideas since meeting you, Lord Andrew. You’ve quite inspired a side of me I didn’t know existed.”

He chuckled and raised his goblet in salute. Drew’s banter took her mind off Bollrud, and she found herself enjoying the rest of the meal. Yet, when her father stood to offer a toast, she watched the man’s reaction. Bollrud gave no hint of distress as her father announced their engagement, and Lana allowed herself to revel in the wonder of the moment.

***

Drew waited on the sidelines as Lana danced with her brother but claimed her as soon as Jake led her from the floor.

“This next dance belongs to me.” Drew gathered her close to touch his lips to her ear. “And every set after.”

Lana pressed against him for a moment before creating a less scandalous distance between them. “I’ve missed you.”

She spoke what had been echoing in his heart all night. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs and savoring her lily of the valley perfume. “You smell as scrumptious as always, peach.” Her shivers reminded him of her response when he had placed kisses along her neck. “Is there any chance we might slip away?”

Her green eyes lit with mischief. “If only there was a way, but I’m afraid we have more eyes on us than usual since we are the guests of honor.”

“True, but I had hoped to speak privately with you. Instead, I must press my case on the dance floor.”

“Then please get on with it. The waltz may not be long enough as it is.”

“Father has procured a special license, and I want to marry tomorrow.”

Her eyes rounded. “Tomorrow?” she whispered. “That’s so soon.”

He brushed his finger across the soft skin of her inner wrist. “Not soon enough for me.”

“I-I don’t think my parents will agree.”

He guided her from the floor before the dance ended. “Let’s speak to them.”

“No,” she whispered furiously. “Wh-what if they ask the reason for our hasty decision?”

“I’ll tell them I can’t wait to bed you, so either allow us to marry, or I will toss you over my shoulder and run away with you, ruining your reputation.”

“That isn’t funny.”

“And I’m not laughing, peach, at least not on the outside.” He winked, bringing an attractive blush to her cheeks. “Your father knows I have waited a long time, at least by my standards. I think he will understand.”

“It’s not as if you waited,” she grumbled, but he knew from the twinkle in her eye, she didn’t mind too much.

As he steered her toward Mr. Hillary, Lana clutched his arm with both hands, her eyes wide with apprehension. “Drew, please. Not here.”

He stopped and faced her. She trembled by his side, and he offered a smile meant to reassure her. “I’ll wait until tomorrow to speak with your father, but I need to know if you are in agreement. I have contacted Vicar Dunlevy already, but I can send word to him if you aren’t ready.”

She sagged with relief and released his arm. “Thank you for understanding,” she murmured.

The stab of disappointment caused him to draw in a jagged breath. How could Lana be uncertain about them still?

“Of course, Lana. Shall I retrieve two glasses of punch?”

She offered a small nod.

Drew looked at her once more before seeking out the refreshments table.

“Lord Andrew,” she called, “I shall look forward to tomorrow.”

His heart skipped and a huge smile spread across his face.

***

Jasper Hainsworth, the Earl of Norwick, stumbled along the sidewalk on his way to White’s. His luck had run dry at Brook’s, but perhaps a change of scenery would end his losing streak. He supposed he could skip the hazard tables all together and visit his mistress, but he had grown tired of her harping on his sloppy appearance.

He glanced down at the buttons straining to hold his rotund belly inside his overcoat, a sign of good fortune he had always thought. But perhaps he should lay off the desserts and wine. Come to think of it, maybe he should cut back on his meat consumption, too. And then there were the heaps of mashed potatoes and gravy, not to mention the chunks of bread dripping with butter. All contributed to his rather robust appearance, he supposed.

His stomach growled. The mention of food made him hungry. Perhaps he should eat a bite before returning to the gaming tables and, with his winnings, he could purchase a man’s stays. Yes, that sounded like a much better idea.

He walked a few more weaving paces and recognized he was close to Madam Montgomery’s. He hadn’t visited in a while, not since that wicked little sprite with straw-colored hair giggled at him. How could he perform after such taunting? And when she had regarded him with pity and offered to return his money? That was more humiliating than being lobcocked to begin with. He would never step foot in that establishment again.

A carriage pulled up to the curb, sporting the Foxhaven crest on the door. There was that bugger, Forest. Jasper hadn’t seen his friend since Northumberland, despite the messages he had sent. Forest had been absent from the clubs although everyone knew he’d returned to Town weeks ago.

It was also common knowledge Forest was diddling the widow Audley, and his prolonged preoccupation had Jasper worried. He had a lot of money riding on the outcome of the affair, but he could breathe easier since it appeared he wouldn’t lose the bet after all.

He hurried to reach Forest as his friend exited the carriage, but Jasper lost his footing and careened into him.

“Watch yer step, you fool.”

Jasper drew back and blinked, trying to focus his blurry vision. “Forest, what happened to you? You look like hell.”

“What are you mumbling, you drunken idiot?”

Jasper blinked, unsuccessfully clearing his vision. He could see he’d made a mistake, however. The man, more akin to a street thug, couldn’t be his friend. Jasper examined the crest again then he returned his attention to the man’s face. “You’re not Andrew Forest, are you?”

The man sneered. “Are you blind as well as cork brained?”

Forest had never insulted him in such a manner. Clearly, this man was… Jasper had trouble completing his thought, but he knew the coach belonged to the Duke of Foxhaven.

He craned his neck to see inside the carriage. “Have you abducted the duke and duchess?”

The man bumped him as he tried to pass. Jasper stepped aside, but they moved in the same direction. This happened a few times until it appeared they engaged in a clumsy dance of sorts.

“I should have known you weren’t Forest,” Jasper complained. “Ever since he took up with that widow lady, no one sees him anymore.”

The man froze in place. “What widow lady?”

“I felt certain it was a sure thing. Now, it appears I’ll lose the bet.”

“Tell me what you’re talking about,” the man shouted and Jasper drew back. The burly fellow spoke again, but in a softer tone. Jasper appreciated his lowered voice since he was developing a headache. “I beg your pardon. Please tell me what widow you mean.”

“Well, Lady Audley of course. I placed my bet at White’s. Forest is only diddling the lady again, but a few fools want to part with their money and insist he plans to marry her.” He leaned close to the man. “Don’t take that bet, sir. I’ve known Forest for years. He’ll never get leg-shackled. He would chew his own limb off first.”

The man wrinkled his nose in disgust and moved away. “I think you may be right, sir. Maybe wedding bells aren’t in his future.”

Jasper poked his finger against the man’s chest. “You may count on it.” Squinting, he tried to make out the man’s identity. “Who are you again?”

“No one important.” The man stalked toward Madam Montgomery’s, disappearing through the front doors.