Chapter Two
It had been only a matter of days since he’d met with the solicitor and then met privately with Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon—something that had felt shockingly like being interviewed for a position.
It had never occurred to him that she might reach out to him again so soon.
With her missive in hand, he left his dusty and horrifically understaffed house and made the very short walk to the Lyon’s Den.
If Mrs. Dove-Lyon had managed to find a bride for him within forty-eight hours, then everything said of her and her matchmaking skills was a gross understatement of her apparently deity-esque capabilities.
The door to the hell was opened before he even reached it; one of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s perfectly trained employees greeting him. “Good afternoon, my lord. Mrs. Dove-Lyon is in the library. Please follow me and I shall take you to her.”
Like a well-choreographed production, he was shown to the luxuriously appointed library that seemed more suited to a country house than a London gaming hell.
He’d been in there for no more than a moment when the door opened once more and Mrs. Dove-Lyon entered.
But it wasn’t the proprietress who captured his attention.
It was the young woman beside her. Lovely, with a wealth of chestnut hair and wide blue eyes, she was quite perfect.
From the top of her head to the tips of her perfectly dyed kid boots, she was exquisite.
The quintessential English beauty with creamy skin and a cupid’s bow mouth.
“Lord Aldwyn, how prompt you are. Thank you for coming so quickly,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said.
He’d had the distinct impression that delaying wasn’t optional, but saying so would likely not endear him to the Black Widow of Whitehall. Instead, he said, “Thank you for reaching out to me so quickly, Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”
She nodded in acknowledgment of his thanks.
“To that end, Lord Aldwyn, may I introduce you to Miss Daphne Acres. Miss Acres is in need of a husband lest her parents force her into a marriage with a most unsuitable and quite repulsive man. And Miss Acres, Lord Aldwyn is in need of a wife with a significant fortune. Your needs and requirements are compatible. Now we must only see that the two of you are, as well. I shall leave you alone to discuss the matter.”
With that, Mrs. Dove-Lyon immediately exited the room and left them alone.
And Fletcher was rendered utterly speechless.
In part because the entire turn of events was so stunning and in part because Miss Acres was so perfectly beautiful that he found it hard to even formulate a thought, much less translate that thought into speech.
“Lord Aldwyn,” Miss Acres said. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
“Thank you, Miss Acres. I must admit, I did not expect Mrs. Dove-Lyon to be quite so efficient in locating a potential match. She seems to have moved rather expeditiously.”
“Indeed. I have only been in communication with Mrs. Dove-Lyon since yesterday… But I confess to being quite relieved at her quick action. I haven’t very much time before my father completes his negotiations with Lord Pozenby.”
Fletcher’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Surely not Cecil Pozenby!” The man was a good forty years senior to the young woman before him and that, sadly, was the least objectionable thing about him.
“Indeed. Lord Cecil Pozenby. I was involved in a scandal sometime back, you see? I was abducted by the cousin of a man to whom I was betrothed. But it was made to appear as though I had run off with my brother’s tutor in some elopement scheme.”
Recognition niggled. Lynley’s interchangeable brides had prompted quite a bit of laughter, though it hardly seemed amusing given the true circumstances behind it all. “I recall it. It was quite the scandal, and you’ve certainly gotten the worst from it.”
Daphne nodded. “Indeed. It has been difficult. My former betrothed, with the assistance of Mrs. Dove-Lyon, found himself a bride. His circumstances were not so different from your own, I think, and he needed to move very quickly. But alas, since then, my social currency, as it were, has declined greatly. I fear I am not a viable participant in the marriage mart now and must utilize… alternative methods.”
How very diplomatically she’d phrased it, he thought with some amusement.
“I see. Well, in the interest of being entirely honest with one another and not trying to put a prettier face on it all… I’m utterly impoverished.
There isn’t enough in the family coffers to even pay the death duties much less the mortgages on everything not entailed or set the sorely neglected estate to rights.
I’m not even certain I can pay for a license. ”
She frowned at him. “Are you trying to dissuade me?”
Fletcher shook his head and a wry chuckle escaped him.
“Not in the least, Miss Acres. I just simply do not want you to feel you have been misled. There is no grand inheritance awaiting me if I marry by a certain date. Nor are there any wealthy relatives who have yet to shuffle off the mortal coil. If we wed, what you see before you is precisely all you will get… myself, my name, and my vows. That is all I have to give.”
She cocked her head to one side, considering. And her answer, when she voiced it, reflected that he’d been weighed and measured by her. “How fortuitous then that I find that to be quite enough.”
Daphne wasn’t entirely certain why she felt an immediate kinship with Lord Aldwyn.
But she did. Perhaps time would prove her wrong, but considering her other options, it was certainly a risk she would have to take.
He was handsome. He was well spoken. Mrs. Dove-Lyon thought well enough of him to offer him up as a potential match.
If any woman was an adequate judge of a man’s character, it would be the woman who ran a gambling den.
“How should we proceed, Lord Aldwyn?”
“I am to assume that your father intends to move quickly in securing your betrothal to Lord Pozenby?” he asked.
“He does. In a manner of days, I think. If we mean to wed, we will have to do so in a slightly clandestine manner,” she admitted, “and very hurriedly.”
“We will proceed as your situation dictates. It appears to be more immediately pressing than my own.”
“Elopement?” she queried.
“Yes. I think so. It seems to be the best option. I can make the arrangements. We could leave tomorrow.”
“Not to be indelicate, but if we need funds to travel—”
“I have that in hand. I may not have the means to set the estate to rights and despite my earlier quip to the contrary, I have the means to get us to Scotland. If you are in agreement?”
“No,” she said. “Well, yes… to the elopement, yes. But not the timeline. I think if it all possible we should leave sooner.”
“Sooner than tomorrow?” he clarified.
“Tonight,” Daphne said. She couldn’t say what it was precisely that prompted her sense of urgency, but it was undeniable.
“We need to leave tonight. My mother and father are very difficult. I had to sneak out today to come here. I will not be able to leave during daytime hours again tomorrow. But I can slip out again after they’ve retired for the night.
Midnight… it will give us a head start should they decide to pursue us. ”
His eyebrows lifted once more. “Do you believe they will?”
“I honestly do not know. I have never seen my father so determined about anything as he is in forcing this match between myself and Lord Pozenby. I fear there may be other factors at play I am not aware of…so, to err on the side of caution I feel is the wisest course.”
“Very well. Your direction?”
“Meet me in Hyde Park. At the bridge over the Serpentine,” she suggested. “If someone sees you near the house or if they see me getting into a carriage, it will raise questions.”
It was clear from his expression that he didn’t like it. “It is unsafe.”
“It’s the only way… I know you do not understand, but you must trust me on this. And if I am not there, know it was not my choice.”
“If you are not there, I will come for you. No man worthy of being called such would stand by while you are forced into a marriage with that wretched creature.”
Daphne breathed a sigh of relief. “I am very happy to hear you say that. Let us hope it does not come to that.”
Daphne did not take the carriage all the way home.
Rather, she had the driver let her out at Hatchard’s where she promptly purchased a book—literally the first novel she could grasp—and then walked home.
It was a ruse that she could only hope her parents would fall for, as there was no chance her absence had not yet been discovered.
As she neared her home, it was clear that her fears were well-founded. She hadn’t even reached the steps when the door flew open and her father appeared, his face florid with anger.
“Where have you been? Explain yourself, girl!”
“I went shopping for a new book,” Daphne replied. “I have been cooped up inside for so long that I simply couldn’t stand any more.”
He came down the front steps and grabbed her arm, squeezing and twisting painfully as he dragged her into the house.
“You do not leave this house unless it is in the company of your mother or myself. Is that understood? I’ll not have you embroiling us in another scandal! You’ve done enough already.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong!” Daphne protested. The pain in her arm had shocked her to the point that she could no longer recall the reasons to appear quietly compliant. “Maybe I should. Maybe if I do something unbelievably scandalous then even that wretched Lord Pozenby will refuse me!”
They were inside the door, standing in the foyer with the stairs rising up behind them when her father grabbed her other arm then, shaking her until her teeth rattled.
“Mind your tongue! Be grateful any man will have you as a wife. Had it been up to me instead of your mother, I would have cast you into the street and scandal be damned! Running off as you did!”
“I didn’t run anywhere. I was abducted!” she shouted, heedless of his temper. It was the injustice of it all, the terrible unfairness of being punished for the misdeeds of others which robbed her of sense and reason in the face of his clearly irrational outrage.
“The outcome is the same,” he snapped dismissively.
“You’re still spoiled in the eyes of the ton.
Ruined beyond repair. And now utterly worthless to me but for one thing…
Pozenby desires you enough to overlook it!
And you’ll be his. You’ll be his before the sun sets on you tomorrow. And you’ll be out of my hair forever.”
Daphne couldn’t even speak. Her father’s grip on her arms was bruising and painful as he all but dragged her up the stairs.
When he shoved her into her room, she stumbled, falling to her knees on the floor.
Before she could even get to her feet, she heard the key turning in the lock.
It wasn’t the first time she had been locked in her room.
But she vowed in that moment that it would be her last.
There was one way out. A way that had been shown to her by none other than the woman who took her place—the Viscountess Lynley.
Out the window, and down to the garden. From there, she would need to scale the fence rather than go through the gate.
That way she could remain under the cover of the trees and shrubs so that no one would see her. And no one would stop her.
As silently as possible, Daphne gathered all the things she would need. There was one place she could go. One place where no one would even consider looking for her. The home of her former betrothed and her only ally—she would go to the Viscountess Lynley. They would help her. They had to.
She could only pray that her instincts about Lord Aldwyn, Fletcher Quill, were correct.