Gayle Buck (13 page)

“Your pity be damned. Find the lady whose sorry fate it is to be shackled to me,” Lord St. John said harshly.

Chapter 12

As Lord St. John had anticipated, the Earl of Cowltern did not appreciate the return of the bridal settlement and the monies as a box of ashes. Some weeks later, at a ball, when he chanced to come face-to-face with the earl, that gentleman deliberately turned his back upon him, causing a sudden frozen silence and then a flurry of forced conversation.

Lord St. John shrugged, his lips prominently twisted in his most sardonic smile, and sauntered on to the refreshment table. He did not address anyone on his way, merely acknowledging a few acquaintances with a slight nod, some of whom subsequently appeared slightly embarrassed to be even so mildly singled out by a gentleman just given the cut direct by the powerful Earl of Cowltern.

While standing at the refreshment table, Lord St. John was surprised when Lord Heatherton led up to him a grande dame of stern visage. “Sinjin, m’mother desired to speak with you,” said Lord Heatherton in a worried tone.

Lord St. John bowed to the lady. With an ironic smile, he said, “Lady Heatherton. It is a pleasant evening, is it not?”

Lady Heatherton snorted. She regarded the viscount with a frosty gaze. “You are in a strange humor, my lord. However, I suppose it is to be expected of one of your stamp. You do not seem the worse for wear for the earl’s slight.” She unfurled her fan with a snap as she directed a cutting glance in the Earl of Cowltern’s direction. “A more pompous man I have never seen.”

“Forgive me, ma’am, but I am amazed that you speak in my defense,” said Lord St. John

“Hardly that, Lord St. John,” retorted Lady Heatherton. “I have no misguided sympathy for your plight. Your hell is of your own devising. However, I take exception to the earl’s assumption that you should bear up his daughter’s reputation at the sacrifice of your own. One’s reputation is to be prized, and what little of yours remains to you should be safeguarded.”

Lord St. John looked thoughtfully at Lord Heatherton. He wondered just how much his friend had revealed to Lady Heatherton. “You have heard more about my business than you should have, my lady.”

Lord Heatherton had the grace to flush. He sent a pleading glance in the viscount’s direction. “No help for it, Sinjin. You know how it is.”

Lady Heatherton did not bother to even glance at her son. “You must not blame Edward, Lord St. John. He is not capable of standing up to me and never will be, as you are well aware. In any event, it is for the best, for I intend to stand firm for you to the extent that my conscience allows. I shall see that the earl’s machinations are seen in the proper light. In return, I wish to extract your word of honor that you will not escort Edward to any other gaming hells.”

Lord St. John laughed. He regarded Lady Heatherton with more friendliness than he had ever shown that redoubtable lady. “I understand perfectly, ma’am. You have my word on it, but not so much to gain what you offer but because Nana proved himself a dead bore in that company.”

Lord Heatherton cleared his throat in a distressed fashion, but Lady Heatherton’s expression actually eased into the faintest of smiles. “You greatly relieve my mind, my lord.” She snapped shut her fan and held out her gloved hand.

Lord St. John bowed over her ladyship’s fingers.

Lady Heatherton looked at her son. “I know that you will wish to talk privately with Lord St. John, so I shall leave you with him. But do not linger overlong, Edward, for I wish you to escort me into dinner.”

Lord Heatherton agreed and Lady Heatherton moved off. When Lord Heatherton was assured that his mother was out of earshot, he turned at once to the viscount. “Sinjin, I know what you are wondering. I swear to you that I did not betray your confidence in regards to that certain matter that Carey and I discussed with you. It was a close-run thing, I don’t mind telling you, but once I had m’mother onto the gaming hell I was safe enough.”

Lord St. John shrugged. His cold eyes roamed the ballroom. “At this juncture I am not so certain that it would be a bad thing, Nana. Perhaps if it was known that I was hanging out for a wealthy bride my reception would not be so damnable.”

Lord Heatherton’s heavy brows lowered. “You do not mean that, Sinjin. Your pride is such that you could not bear the added talk that must arise over such an
on dit.”

Lord St. John gave a short, harsh laugh. “Ah, Nana. How easily you thrust to the truth. No, it would not gratify me to hear speculation concerning my chances of taking the sort of bride I require.”

“I have made inquiry of m’mother, you know, just as we decided I would do. She was very well pleased to hear that Carey was giving such sober thought to the future.” A rare smile lit Lord Heatherton’s face at the recollection of actually hoodwinking his uncannily sharp mother in so small a way. He cast a glance at the viscount’s shuttered expression and said in a hopeful fashion, “I have taken the liberty of composing something of a list.”

Lord St. John looked at his companion. The thought of a list of candidates revolted him. It was on the point of his tongue to brusquely dismiss Lord Heatherton’s announcement, but he thought better of it. He sighed. “Very well, Nana. Bring your list to my town house on the morrow. You may as well stay to supper and afterwards I shall hear you out.”

Lord Heatherton brightened. “Very good, then. I shall do just that, and I’ll bring Carey along as well. He is a discerning man when it comes to the ladies and he might be of some use to you in making your decision.”

Dinner was announced and Lord Heatherton, seeing that his mother was summoning him with her fan, made a hasty apology and hurried to lend his escort. Lord St. John was devoid of appetite and had no desire to remain longer in that company.

He quit the ball and went to a gaming hell, where he remained until the small hours of the morning. Rising from the table the loser, he made his way home and tumbled into bed, greatly the worse for quantities of bad brandy, bad company and high self-disgust.

The following evening his table was enlivened with the company of his friends, but it was not until the gentlemen had retired to the parlor where they could be assured of privacy from the servants’ ears that the subject uppermost in each of their minds was broached.

Mr. Underwood and Lord Heatherton discussed animatedly for several minutes the various qualities recommending each of the ladies on Lord Heatherton’s carefully composed list. Lord St. John listened, but indifferently. It mattered little to him what lady his friends would finally agree upon as the best possible candidate for his bride.

At last, after numerous applications for an expression of his preferences had been met with a shrug or a monosyllabic reply, Mr. Underwood exclaimed, “Dash it, Sinjin! It is your future we are deciding here. Do you not have anything to say to the point?”

Lord St. John’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “But you see, Carey, it is of infinite indifference to me. I care so little. One shopkeeper’s daughter is the same as any other.”

His lordship’s pronouncement was met by strained silence. Mr. Underwood and Lord Heatherton stared uncertainly at the viscount.

At last Lord Heatherton ventured a mild reproof. “But you must take an interest, Sinjin. It is your future lady, after all.”

Lord St. John, on the point of a savage retort, met Lord Heatherton’s worried gaze. In the face of such patent, honest concern he could not bring himself to say what had sprung to his lips. It would have wounded Lord Heatherton’s uncomplicated nature too deeply. His voice harsh, he said, “Very well, Nana. You have outlined the ladies’ antecedents and probable worth. There does not seem to be much to choose out from among them in that way. Read me their names; perhaps I shall be struck by inspiration.”

“There are only five candidates,” said Lord Heatherton, anxious to lessen the viscount’s black scowl.

“God help me,” murmured Lord St. John

Thus encouraged, Lord Heatherton plunged into the list of the ladies deemed most suitable to be elevated to the station of viscountess. He was but halfway through when the viscount threw up his hand.

Lord Heatherton faltered to a stop, looking over questioningly. “What is it, Sinjin?”

Lord St. John was frowning. There had been something familiar about that third name. It teased at his memory, until abruptly he recalled the lady’s wide, dark eyes and the circumstances of their meeting. In an instant he made his decision. “That is the one: Mary Pepperidge. I’ll have my man begin the negotiations at once,” he said shortly.

Mr. Underwood was moved to sharp protest. “No, really, Sinjin! This is too much. For the last hour you have not paid the least heed to anything that Nana and I have said. Now of a sudden you have made up your mind.”

“I do not understand your objection, Carey,” said Lord St. John. “You have been urging me to choose one of the fair ladies and I have done so.”

“You’ve not given fair hearing to the lot. You know that you haven’t. Besides, you are never going to offer for a woman whom you have yet to set eyes on!”

Lord St. John smiled, but his cold eyes were not warmed by the expression. Coolly, he said, “But I have seen this particular lady, Carey. I have even spent several minutes in her company. That is enough upon which to base an informed decision, is it not?”

“No, it is not!” exclaimed Mr. Underwood.

Lord St. John’s countenance became even more sardonic. “I am but following your own example, Carey. One glimpse of a beautiful face and you counted yourself well lost.”

Mr. Underwood stared at the viscount, a flicker of pain crossing his expression. “That is quite beside the point. You cannot persuade me that you have tumbled head over heels for this young woman.”

“No, I leave such follies to you,” retorted Lord St. John.

“Damn you, Sinjin,” said Mr. Underwood tightly, somewhat white about the mouth.

Lord Heatherton consulted his list with a thoughtful pursing of lips, unwilling to enter into the unpleasant scene.

Lord St. John yanked the bellpull. A footman entered at the summons and was given a curt message to convey to his lordship’s secretary.

The footman withdrew. Mr. Underwood, having mastered his emotions, tried once again. “You are surely not earnest, Sinjin.”

“I was never more sober of purpose in my life.” Lord St. John turned to the decanters of wine on the occasional table. He poured himself a measure of brandy and tossed it back with a careless flick of the wrist.

“But this-this—” Mr. Underwood turned in appeal to Lord Heatherton. “What the devil was the woman’s name, Nana?”

“Miss Mary Pepperidge,” said Lord Heatherton. He had taken a pencil out of his pocket and was engaged in carefully underlining the name. He looked up, adding helpfully, “Her father is in the mercantile business.”

“Aye, that’s the one. Sinjin, you know nothing about this Miss Pepperidge except the meager bits that Nana has gathered. By your own admission you have scarcely exchanged three words with the lady, and how you came to manage even that I cannot begin to fathom. You cannot in all seriousness enter into marriage settlements armed only with that!” said Mr. Underwood.

Lord St. John’s tone was biting. “Was that not the whole object of this amusing exercise, Carey? Was I not to make my choice of wife from that pitiful list in Nana’s hand?”

Mr. Underwood avoided the viscount’s hard stare. “I did not expect you to do so without reflection, nor without making an effort to satisfy yourself to their suitability.”

Lord St. John gave a short, harsh laugh. “Come, my friend, be honest. It was never anything but an agreeable exercise to you. It was not your neck in the noose, after all. You could afford to derive amusement at my expense.”

“That is not true, Sinjin. It does not amuse me to see you reduced to such shifts,” said Mr. Underwood quietly.

Lord St. John smiled again, this time mockingly. “Though you urged me to the course, it appears that you never truly expected that I would stay it to the finish. But I must, Carey, if I am to survive. That is the devil of it. I have had to accept that grim reality. But it is otherwise for you. After all is done and said, you will return to your lodgings secure in your own easy existence. What will you tell our mutual acquaintances, Carey? Shall you shake your head and offer an amusing witticism at the conclusion of another passing diversion? Be damned to you, Carey!”

Mr. Underwood had withstood the viscount’s tirade without comment, but now he rose from his place. There was a certain bleakness in his brown eyes. “Perhaps everything you say is true. Perhaps I have treated the circumstances with greater levity than was called for. Nevertheless, I have stood your friend, my lord. That did not, nor shall not, change.” He bowed and turned on his heel.

As Mr. Underwood turned to the door, it opened and Mr. Witherspoon entered. The secretary offered a greeting to Mr. Underwood, but that gentlemen did not acknowledge it as he exited. Mr. Witherspoon looked round questioningly at his employer.

Lord St. John stood at the mantel, impassive and appearing unmoved by Mr. Underwood’s abrupt leave-taking. He did not appear to notice the awkward strain that was in the room.

Lord Heatherton went over to carefully set the list down on the mantel near the viscount’s hand. “You’ll want privacy, I expect,” he said, almost apologetically. He took punctilious leave of Mr. Witherspoon and glanced once more at the impassive viscount before he, also, left.

The secretary stood uncertainly a moment. “My lord? I was told that you had need of me.”

There was a long moment while Mr. Witherspoon thought Lord St. John had not heard him. Just as he was about to bring himself again to the viscount’s attention, his employer made a startling announcement.

“I am to be married, Witherspoon,” said Lord St. John neutrally. “You will find the lady’s name and direction on this paper. It is the third on the list. Pray see to the business of making known my interest to the lady’s parent.”

Mr. Witherspoon numbly took the sheet of paper, his eyes drawn as to a magnet to what was written on it. He found an underlined name. “Miss Mary Pepperidge, my lord? I-I do not believe I am familiar—”