Newport Summer

NEWPORT
SUMMER

Other books by Nikki Poppen

The Romany Heiress
The Heroic Baron

The Dowager’s Wager

NEWPORT
SUMMER

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Nikki Poppen

S Montlake Romance

For my agent, Scott at Greyhaus, and for my great
editor, Faith, who both give me the chance to do

something I love. Thanks so much for all
the opportunities you’ve provided me.

London, England, May 1887, the drawing room of the
Earl of Camberly’s town house

GG
Is that all, milord?” Mr. Lawbee, the somberly
dressed clerk from Christie’s auction house was stiffly
polite and not the least bit sarcastic or ingratiating in his
tone, although, Lord knew, he could have been.

Gannon Maddox, fourth Earl of Camberly, pushed a
hand through his immaculate dark hair and fought back
the retort that came so easily to his lips. Was that all?
What more could there be? A man would have to be blind
not to notice the gaping spaces on the town house walls
where fine oils had hung, or deaf not to hear the echoing
of footsteps on hardwood floors where expensive, woven
Axminster rugs made in the tradition of Thomas Whittey
had muffled footsteps right up until this morning. And that was just the beginning. The loyal housekeeper’s artful
arranging of furniture could no longer obscure the fact that
the rooms-even the public rooms-were empty of many
familiar pieces. The more discerning eye would have noticed long ago that the cabriole-legged tables next to the sofas were devoid of porcelain knickknacks, brass elephants,
and other sundry items brought from the family’s shipping
interests in India-interests that had not kept pace with the
needs of the estate.

“Yes, Mr. Lawbee. That is all” Gannon inclined his
head graciously. “I thank you for Christie’s discretion
in this matter. My solicitor will contact you and handle
the paperwork” Gannon tried to look nonchalant, as if
auctioning off intimate household items were an everyday occurrence for a member of the peerage. By God,
he’d keep his pride until the last, even if he hadn’t a
penny with which to support it. His father had always
said there was more to being a gentleman than deep
pockets. However, deep pockets definitely helped.

Gannon rang for Benton, the butler, to show Mr. Lawbee to the door, determined to stick to protocol for appearances’ sake. He didn’t think Mr. Lawbee was the
type to gossip, but it would do no good for word to get
out that Camberly had sunk so low as to show his guests
to the door himself.

Certain that he was alone and unobserved, Gannon
slouched into one of the remaining chairs in the drawing
room. The earldom was broke, and it was on his watch,
although it was not his fault. Camberly had teetered on the precipice of financial ruin for over a generation. In
spite of his efforts to revive the flagging coffers, the estate had capitulated to its long-inevitable fate.

Seventeen years of ongoing agricultural depression
were finally showing signs of outlasting the pocketbooks of even the most frugal peers, and in his case, the
most inventive as well. He’d seen trouble coming and
had done his best to protect against it. He’d tried various investments-commercial shipping and even the
Exchange. Nothing had paid off in large enough dividends to do more than forestall the inevitable.

Gannon needed an infusion of cash, but there was
nothing outside of the entailed estates left to sell, nothing left to act as collateral that might entice a bank to
advance him a sum significant enough to pull Camberly
out of its slump.

It didn’t matter. A loan wasn’t the answer. Any loan he
took out would have to be paid back, and that patently
could not be done. At any rate, a loan would solve nothing beyond providing temporary succor for the ailing
earldom.

At thirtythree, he was the patriarch. He had greataunts in the country at the family seat, a seventeen-yearold brother away at school, and a thirteen-year-old sister
on the brink of womanhood, all counting on him to find
a way through this crisis. It was time for his backup plan.

“You’re going to do what?” Sir Garrett Atherton,
Gannon’s best friend from their days at Eton together and now renowned legal counsel for the Crown, said in
hushed tones of disbelief in the sanctity of White’s two
hours later.

Gannon chuckled at his friend’s shock. “You heard
me. I am going to America.”

Garrett, who was always in control and so very cool,
gave a gratifying sputter at having been taken by surprise.
“My dear friend, I say this with kindness, but, considering your financial difficulties, I hardly think gallivanting
across the ocean on holiday is a wise idea.”

Undaunted by his friend’s logic, Gannon pushed
ahead. “I would hardly call my trip a `holiday.’ After all,
I am heiresshunting.”

“This is patently the most outlandish scheme you’ve
come up with. Ever,” Garrett huffed. “I should come
with you to keep you out of serious trouble”

“Oh, no, I need you here, Garrett,” Gannon said carefully. This was the tricky part of the plan.

Garrett’s dark gaze grew wary. “Why is that, Gannon? The last time I went along with one of your plans,
I nearly ended up suspended for spying on the headmaster’s daughter.”

Gannon laughed at his friend’s caution. “Nearly.
That’s all. There’s a big difference between a fait accompli and nearly. I didn’t let you get caught, did I?”

“Well, no,” Atherton admitted. “Still, it was a near
thing.”

“All I need this time is for you to hold off the creditors for a few months. I’ll be back in September with plenty of money. By fall, I won’t have to worry about financial security again,” Gannon said with more confidence than he felt. This was a big gamble-the last
gamble, in fact. If he squandered this final chunk of
money from Christie’s on a bride-finding gambit in
America and failed, it would all be over for good.

“A few months? Until September?” Garrett practically came out of his chair. “That is downright audacious. It gives new meaning to keeping the enemy at
arm’s length. I am a barrister, not a miracle worker. Do
you know how desperate your situation is? I am not
talking about debts to a Bond Street tailor or a carriage
maker. I am talking about mortgages here”

Gannon gave a covert glance about the room to see if
they’d drawn any stares. Garrett’s voice was louder than
he’d have preferred. “Of course I know the extent of my
debts,” he hissed in a lowered tone. “What would you
have me do? Sit back and wait for the creditors to come
for my estate? For my home?”

Garrett spread well-manicured hands on his knees in a
gesture of acceptance. “You know I don’t want that. I
will do what I can” He drew a deep breath and drank
from the crystal tumbler at his elbow. “Still, what you
propose is nothing short of craziness.”

Gannon tossed off the rest of his own glass. “It’s not
as crazy as one might think. In fact, I’d say it’s the future for us land-bound nobles.”

Garrett Atherton leaned forward. He lowered his
voice in deadly earnest. “It’s the principle of the whole scheme. I am dismayed, and I use the term mildly, that
an Englishman would consider selling himself to the
highest bidder like a common doxy on the wharves”

Gannon stiffened at the rebuke. At its meanest denominator, that was exactly what his scheme reduced to. But
he tried to ignore that, cloaking it in convoluted logic. It
didn’t help to have his friend voice those sentiments so
bluntly. “Well, why not, Garrett? Those Americans have
got millions and no restrictions over primogeniture. It’s
not like here, where heiresses are rare gems. Here, if a
rich girl’s got brothers, she gets nothing. Over there, fathers are happy to will it all to their daughters. It’s prime
pickings.”

“We’re talking about picking a wife, not an apple,”
Garrett said, making no effort to hide his chagrin over
Gannon’s callous attitude.

“We’re talking about saving Camberly,” Gannon retorted pointedly. “I’ve the got the looks and the title. I
just need the fortune to go with it. After all, they’ve been
doing it to us for a decade now-coming over here and
hunting our titles like prized stags. Why not reciprocate?
An heiress solves all my problems. American heiresses
are more than a lark, you know. They’re the future. Even
the Duke of Marlborough is thinking of it. He’s out of
options while his brother, Churchill, has the American
Jerome fortune behind him now, and he’s not even the
duke”

“Has it gotten that bad?” Garrett was aghast. “I hadn’t
heard about it lately.”

Gannon nodded solemnly. All of society had been aware over the last several years of the items auctioned
off from Blenheim, Marlborough’s estate-the library,
some nonentailed lands, the family jewels, the artwork,
and the famous enamels.

Gannon spoke in a near whisper. “I have it on good
authority that if Marlborough doesn’t cross the Atlantic
this year, he’ll go next spring.” He reached for his glass
of brandy, tossing back the remainder. “And really, why
shouldn’t he go? Why should Churchill have a financially secure future when Marlborough’s estate sucks
up money like water on dry earth? For that matter, why
shouldn’t I, a responsible man of agriculture, have the
financial security I need to run my estate?” His tone
dared Atherton to challenge his plan.

“I can see you have your heart set on this madcap
scheme,” Garrett conceded. “I know from experience that
there’s no reasoning with you when you’re like this. However, I have to try. I feel obliged to point out that having a
plan and enacting a plan are quite different issues. How
do you propose to take America by storm? More important, how do you think you’ll meet the heiresses without
being obvious?”

“Do you remember my friend Lionel Carrington?”

“The American?”

“Yes, the wealthy American,” Gannon amended
meaningfully. “He and his wife are sailing back to Newport, Rhode Island, for the summer in two weeks. Apparently, Americans flock to Newport from all reaches of the world at summer. Paris, London, Italy-the
whole civilized world empties of them so they can have
their Newport Season. Anyway, the Carringtons would
love nothing better than to have me accompany them to
Newport.”

“Then it’s already done” Garrett’s tone was rueful.
He nodded to the approaching footman. “It appears our
luncheon awaits us. We shall share a last supper of sorts
together and celebrate your departure”

The elegance of White’s seemed more pronounced
to Gannon’s senses as they sat down to eat. Today, he
was acutely aware of the pristine, starched whiteness of
the tablecloths, the exquisite thinness of the crystal
goblets, the perfection of the meal arranged artfully on
china plates.

Even the conversation pricked his hypersensitive
nerves. Across the table, Garrett tried to defuse his disapproval over the plan with easy chatter about horses-their shared passion-about the upcoming Ascot, and
the summer regatta at Cowes. Expensive pursuits, to be
sure.

Halfway through the conversation, Gannon realized
with acute clarity that if he failed to secure financing
for Camberly, he stood to lose more than an estate. He
stood to lose a way of life-the way of life he’d been
born to, the only way of life he knew. He would lose it
not only for himself but for his sister and brother too.