All the Pleasures of the Season (2 page)

 

C
HAPTER
T
WO

G
ilbert Fielding was outside De Courcey House, standing in the shadows. He often stopped here on his solitary evening walks, talking advantage of the cover of the early autumn dusk, hoping to catch a glimpse of Miranda.

He knew it would be just a matter of time before she announced her betrothal and married a suitable gentleman of her own class, but he couldn't help it. He came anyway.

The cold wind sent dry leaves skittering over his boots, mocking him, the fool standing in the dark like an urchin with his nose pressed to the window of a sweet shop, eying treats he couldn't afford.

There was a coach parked at the curb, and Gilbert's throat dried. He crossed to look at the crest on the door. The Earl of Kelton.

Was he the one, then, the
ton's
famous Adonis?

He shut his eyes. He shouldn't be surprised, and he had no right to feel betrayed or angry.

He'd promised himself that he would leave London the moment he heard she was to marry, take up his army commission and go to war, and do his best never to hear anything about Miranda Archer—Miranda
Kelton
—ever again.

He sent up a prayer that Kelton would make her happy. He wished he could be the one to lead her to the altar, to wake up next to her every morning and hold her in his arms at night. He hoped the pretty earl appreciated the privilege.

Gilbert willed himself to walk away, but he stood where he was and wondered, as he had a thousand times, what might have happened if he
had
made an offer for her. Would she have accepted him? He loved her, and he believed she had feelings for him, too.

But honorable marriage was impossible between them. He was an ordinary man. The granddaughters of peers did not marry ordinary men.

Her grandfather would forbid it, and his own father would be furious that Gilbert had sought to climb above his allotted place in life—above his own brother, the baron's heir.

Even if Miranda had agreed to marry him, they would have to elope, steal away shamefully in the night and be married in Scotland. He could never dishonor her that way. She deserved better. She deserved—though he hated to admit it—Kelton, and all the wealth and prestige that came with him.

Again he willed himself to go, but he couldn't resist moving along the street until he was standing at the edge of the square of yellow light that spilled out of the window of the Westlakes' drawing room.

Miranda was next to Kelton, his dark elegance a perfect foil for her blond beauty. She took his breath away even now, the possession of another man. Did love fade over time? He was afraid he'd have to live with this pain in his chest for the rest of his life. He put a fist against his breast, trying to banish the ache, but it wouldn't go.

He watched Miranda raise a glass of champagne to her lips, watched the white column of her throat working as she swallowed. The sharp glitter of the ring on her finger cut into him like a knife.

So it was done, then.

She was betrothed to someone else.

A shadow slid over the pavement and across his body as someone moved to the window and blocked his view. Gilbert stepped back into the shadows. Blackwood stared out into the darkness, looking as unhappy about the betrothal as Gilbert.

Had Phineas seen him?

Gilbert turned on his heel and began to walk away, his heart dead in his chest, his feet leaden. He measured each stride, made it to the corner, started to cross the street. He stopped at the sound of running footsteps behind him and spun, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Lord Fielding?” a voice behind him called, breathless. A footman dressed in Blackwood livery came up.

“
Mr
. Fielding, or Lieutenant will do,” Gilbert replied, trying the rank on his tongue. It sat in his mouth like cold porridge.

The servant held out a note.

“Lord Blackwood asks if you would come and see him tomorrow morning,” he said

Gilbert scanned the brief lines. “ ‘Ten o'clock, boxing salon.' ”

He stared at the footman, who was waiting for an answer.

Blackwood was a friend, though not a close one. They sparred together on occasion, rode in Hyde Park, traveled in some of the same circles. Phineas probably wanted to tell him about his sister's betrothal. He'd have to act as if he didn't know, practice pretending not to care.

“You may tell his lordship I'll come,” he said, and watched the servant disappear back toward the lighted warmth of Blackwood House.

It would be good to have someone to punch tomorrow.

P
hineas received the footman's nod as he handed his wife into the coach to return to Blackwood House.

Isobel settled into the shelter of his arms and leaned against his side, and he rested his chin on her hair.

“Marianne has been predicting for weeks that Miranda would choose Lord Kelton,” she sighed.

“My sister makes a terrible matchmaker,” he grumbled, and she turned to look up at him.

“Don't you like Kelton?”

“Not at all.”

“Why?” she asked in surprise.

“Miranda loves puppies, and she deserves to be happy.”

Isobel laughed. “What do puppies have to do with anything, Phin?” She slid her hand inside his waistcoat and drew little circles on his shirt with her fingernail. It tickled, and Phineas sighed, letting her play, hoping it would soothe his temper.

“I swear Kelton is the kind of man who'd kick a puppy, or pull its tail just to make it cry.”

“Phineas!” Isobel giggled, kissing his chin. “He's a perfectly respectable gentleman, and he'll make Miranda a fine husband. Is it Kelton's reputation with the fairer sex that worries you?” Phineas was surprised she knew of it, but she probably hadn't heard the stories Phineas had heard, the kind that gentlemen discussed where ladies couldn't hear. “I wouldn't worry,” she said. “I have every confidence Miranda will reform him, tame him, and keep him at home.”

“Difficult for a virgin of nineteen who has been raised in the country with no mother to teach her. She has a great deal to learn before she can reform an experienced rake like Kelton.”

Isobel wriggled closer. “She has Marianne,” she murmured.

Phineas stiffened. “That's what worries me.”

“You sound as prudish as Carrington, or Augusta!” She nipped at his earlobe. “She'll learn what he likes.” She kissed his throat, driving him wild. “Perhaps she'll teach him a few things as well.”

Phineas kissed her, tasting champagne. “I love you,” he murmured. “I want everyone to be as happy as this, especially Miranda.”

She moved to sit astride him, as agile as a cat, familiar with everything that drove him wild. Running her hands over his body, she teased him. He knew she'd make him wait until they got home to the comfort and privacy of their own bed. He could hardly keep a clear thought in his head, didn't want to think of anything right now other than what Isobel's hands were doing to him, how her breasts felt in his palms, the wicked suggestions she was whispering in his ear.

Tomorrow, he'd find a solution to Miranda's problem. Tonight, other matters—urgent matters—had suddenly come up, and required his full attention.

 

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

“I
don't think Kelton is worse than any other gentleman of his class,” Adam Westlake told Phineas early the next morning when he came to see him. It was barely dawn, and the earl had scarcely finished his breakfast. The unexpected visit, even from Phineas, was an interruption. Adam had a ship sailing within the week, and he had a great deal of work to do before the
Edmond
left London. “You're worrying needlessly. He may not be the hero you wanted for Miranda, but there's nothing sinister about him, no terrible secrets in his past. At least none that I've been able to uncover. He's the usual sort of English lord.”

“What
do
you know about him?” Phineas insisted. “You must have a file on him, and there's got to be a reason why Miranda shouldn't marry him.”

Adam leaned over the desk. “I wasn't expecting you to come calling at dawn, and I usually don't allow interrogations before noon. He is Miranda's choice, and Carrington has approved the match. You may just have to accept the fact that Kelton is going to be your brother-in-law.”

“No,” Phineas said stubbornly. Adam sat back, bemused.

Phineas got to his feet and paced. “Fine, I'll tell you what
I
know about him, why he is completely unsuitable for Miranda. Kelton likes women. That handsome face of his ensures there's ladies lined up to fill his bed, and he's happy to oblige.”

“You've just described at least half the gentlemen of the
ton
. You can't blame Kelton for having good looks, money, and a craving for variety. You'll have to do better than that, Phin.”

“He has gambling debts.”

“Just like the other half of the
ton
. Next?”

“He spends his income on horseflesh, carriages, mistresses, and gambling.”

“Again, the same as all the other bored young men of his class. I doubt Miranda will find any of this shocking, and it will hardly put a dent in his fortune. You've just described yourself, by the way, before you married Isobel.”

Phineas continued to pace the floor, his footfalls absorbed by the plush Turkey carpet. “What about the fact that Kelton is evicting tenants that have lived on his estates for generations? I believe he's intending to invest in a factory that will produce tinware for the army.”

Adam sat forward. “Really? Interesting, but not illegal or immoral. A bit cruel perhaps, and shortsighted. The army needs tinware now, but the war won't last forever. Has he planned to sell the goods elsewhere, or looked into new markets?”

Phineas rolled his eyes. “Kelton? The typical young lord who gambles, whores, and overspends? What do you think?”

“What's this really about, Phineas?”

“Miranda doesn't love him.”

“Marianne adores him. So does Carrington, and Augusta,” Adam said.

“And what do you think of the match?”

Adam pursed his lips, but didn't reply. In his opinion, Miranda could have done better, but Marianne was a powerful force when she wanted something. Kelton wasn't a
bad
choice. He phrased his reply carefully, as if he were diffusing a bomb. “I think Miranda has chosen Kelton to please everyone but herself. She's young and imagines that she can charm him, make him love her. Perhaps she can.”

Phineas growled. “She's too young for that, and he's in the market for a new mistress. It will destroy Miranda when she finds out he only wants her money.”

“Perhaps he'll find himself content with his wife, and won't take a mistress. Neither you nor I have a mistress,” Adam said.

“Marianne would flay you alive and run your tattered hide up the mast of one of your own ships if you even considered it, Adam. So would Isobel.”

That was true enough. Archer women were passionate and jealous, and they gave their hearts fully—and Adam wouldn't have it any other way. “Miranda will find her own way to make her marriage work, Phineas. She's an Archer.” He got to his feet. “I wouldn't worry any more about it. She's a clever girl. By her wedding day, I imagine she'll have Kelton wrapped around her finger, an accessory to wear with her very expensive Christmas gown.”

Adam could see Phineas still wasn't convinced. He watched Phineas's gaze slide away, move to the door. He felt a frisson of warning creep up his spine. Phineas was not going to let this go, and if Adam wasn't going to be of any help, Phineas would enlist someone else, another partner in crime.

“Phineas, don't take this too far. She will still marry Kelton, and you may damage your own relationship with her,” he warned, but Phineas picked up his hat and set it on his head, tilting it forward, as if he were going into a fight.

“Good day, Westlake. I have an appointment at the boxing salon.”

Adam winced. Given the kind of mood Phin was in, he pitied his opponent. He only hoped it wasn't Kelton.

G
ilbert reeled under the force of Blackwood's first punch.

“I thought this was supposed to be a friendly bout,” he reminded Phineas, wiping the blood from his lip.

“It
is
friendly,” Phineas growled and hit him again. Gilbert staggered but didn't fall. He sent his fist crashing into Phineas's jaw, determined to give as good as he got. The marquess's eyes glazed over momentarily, but he shook it off and pierced Gilbert with a glare.

“Did you know that my sister is engaged to marry the Earl of Kelton?” He spat the man's name as he threw another punch. Gilbert ducked. “But of course you did,” Phineas continued. “You were there last night, saw it for yourself. You might have come in and joined the toast to the
happy
couple.” He hit Gilbert again on “happy”—in the gut this time—and knocked the wind out of him. For the first time in days, the ache of longing for Miranda turned into something else, something useful.

“Is taking a stroll a crime in Mayfair?” Gilbert asked. He sent Blackwood staggering backward.

“No, but I thought you loved Miranda!” Phineas advanced on him like a wolf with a grudge. “It should have been you, Gil. You didn't—” He punched him in the jaw, and Gilbert saw stars. “—even offer for her.”

Gilbert sank his fist into the Marquess's belly. “Is that what this is about?” he demanded.

“Damned right it is,” Phineas growled, lining up for another blow. Winded at last, Gilbert dodged.

“Since when do lowly lieutenants offer for the granddaughters of dukes?' he demanded. “I'll pull my punches from here on, Blackwood. I seem to have addled your brains.”

Phineas obviously had no intention of tempering his blows. “Do you love her?” he demanded, and planted his fist in Gilbert's face.

Gilbert fell backward and landed on the floor, stunned by both the blow and the question.

“What difference would it make?” he asked.

Phineas held out a hand to help him to his feet. Gilbert raised his fists. “Did you know Kelton gambles and whores and will make her thoroughly miserable?”

Gilbert dropped his fives and stared, and Phineas hit him again. They were drawing a crowd now, and money was changing hands over who might win the savage brawl. It wouldn't be him, Gilbert thought. His eye throbbed, his lip stung, and his cheek ached. The pain in his gut had returned.

“There's nothing I can do about it, Phin” Gilbert said. He threw one more blow, soft this time, and let it glance off Phineas's shoulder.

Phineas caught his fist, held it. “Are you giving up?” he demanded, and Gilbert wondered if he was talking about Miranda or the bout. He nodded.

“Oh, no, you're not. Let's get a drink, and we'll discuss just how you're going to fix this.”

Phineas tossed him a towel, and Gilbert wondered if he looked as bad as Phineas did. He wiped blood off his cheek, gingerly probed his smashed lip. “The lady has made her decision. I won't interfere.”

“He's wrong for her.”

“He's the man she's chosen, Phineas, and I for one will respect that. She knows what she wants. She's clever, sees the good in people that others miss.”

Phineas shook his head. “Not this time. I won't let him destroy her. Or you, either.”

“Me?” Gilbert asked.

“She'll regret you all her life.”

P
hineas didn't lie, exactly. He simply embellished the truth, embroidered it, set it in the right lighting to create the effect he wanted.

Lord Kelton
did
keep strings of mistresses. It was
probably
true that he had no intention of giving them up once he wed.

His gambling debts and the sale of his land
might
have indicated financial difficulties, shown Kelton to be a man desperate to wed a rich woman. He watched Gilbert's eyes fill with shock, then sorrow, then indignation.

Good.

“She had pets at Carrington Castle—stray dogs, orphaned squirrels, and birds with broken wings. Kelton despises animals.”

Gilbert frowned in confusion and Phineas suspected he may have gone too far. “I suspect that Kelton may be guilty of sins we haven't even uncovered yet,” he said quickly. “You must see now that Miranda deserves better.”

Gilbert's fist was clenched on the tumbler of whisky, still half full. “Yes, she does,” he murmured. “But not me, Blackwood. You can see that, can't you? Carrington would never allow it.”

Phineas tried to look reassuring. “Of course not
you
, Gil,” he said, further baiting the trap. “But you can at lest help me to find out if Kelton is truly unworthy, has any really ugly secrets, can't you?”

Gilbert shook his head. “I'm leaving, Blackwood. Joining my regiment as soon as possible, within the week if I can.”

Phineas smiled. “Every regiment is hunkered down for the winter now, both here and in Spain, waiting for spring. You can't go until then.” He needed a convincer.

“I cannot bear to think of her unhappy. Nor can you, I suspect. Carrington needs a reason to call off the wedding. I can't do it myself. Isobel and I are leaving for Ashdown tomorrow morning.” He leaned forward. “Look, Kelton and Miranda will be at Lady Endersly's ball tomorrow night. I can get you an invitation. You can keep an eye on Kelton, see for yourself if I have anything to worry about. He's not likely to tell me, his future brother-in-law, is he? But he might let his feelings slip in front of a stranger. You can even see Miranda, ask her if she's happy. I suspect you'll know if she's telling the truth, or just putting on a brave face. You know her almost as well as I do.”

He watched Gilbert's eyes spark at the idea of seeing Miranda again, but he quickly looked away, staring into his untouched whisky, deciding.

Phineas grinned, sure he had him. Once he and Miranda were in the same room, she would change her mind.

But Gilbert Fielding picked up his hat and got to his feet. He looked like a man wondering if he was about to ruin his own life, or save it. “No.”

Phineas felt his smile fade. “No?”

“I can't interfere. I have no right to. I will see her at the ball and wish her happy. Nothing else.”

Phineas watched him go, and imagined a reluctant knight-errant riding off to a battle he might not win, but had to fight. Both for his own sake, and Miranda's.