Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“Rough night?”
Nicolas looked at his best friend, Jeremy Forthwell, Duke of Vaile, and took another long sip from his drink. A long, weary sigh escaped him as he exhaled, but then he worked a smile onto his face.
His friend began to laugh. “Hm, yes, it certainly appears that way.” He settled into his seat beside Nicolas and gently bumped their shoulders against each other. “Come now, tell me what’s the matter. More debutante madness?”
“It’s always debutante madness, Vaile,” Nicolas said, but could not suppress a grin. “Another tried to trap me into a scandal at Lord Farthington’s ball this evening.”
Vaile rolled his eyes. “Of course. How’d you manage to escape that one?”
Nicolas’s mind wandered back to the woman he’d met at the ball, the one who’d saved him. The look on her face as she told him of her wish to remain a spinster. The blonde hair that had escaped from her braid.
He sipped his drink. “Fortunate happenstance,” he said.
Behind them, a cheer exploded from one of the various gambling tables.
He had no interest in cards; or, rather, he had no interest in gaming hapless men out of their money.
But the drinks were good, the atmosphere inviting, and he was happy to have his friend at his side after such an otherwise tedious night.
There was an unusual air about the place that night, however, that he couldn’t quite place. A subtle tension, like the other gathered men were waiting for something to happen, more so than they normally did with their regular gambling activities. It put his nerves a bit on edge.
“Is there something going on this evening?” he asked, glancing about the place.
Vaile shrugged. “Not as far as I am aware, no. Same old gentlemen’s club, same old activities.”
They clinked their glasses against one another’s.
Nicolas was just about to ask after his friend’s own evening, as he hadn’t been at the aforementioned ball, when a sudden hush fell across the club. Both men turned toward the door.
Nicolas’s mouth fell open.
It was her. The woman from the gardens, the one who’d swooped in to save him from forced scandal.
She was being dragged by the arm through the door of the gentlemen’s club, led by someone he presumed was her father.
There were tears in her eyes and panic on her face.
Nicolas got to his feet, as did every other man in the room.
Her father pulled her to a stop before the largest assembly of men, a neutral expression on his face. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said. “I have had the pleasure of speaking with some of you already, but for those whom I have not yet met, this is my daughter, Lady Victoria Preston.”
There were a few appreciative whistles, a few lascivious “hellos”, from the assembled crowd. Lady Victoria’s face was as white as a sheet.
Nicolas’s mind worked quickly, piecing together the woman’s surname and the man who held her in place.
Mortimer Preston, the Earl of Corvin. He didn’t know much about the man, but given that he had dragged his daughter into a gentlemen’s club, presumably against her will, he had no desire to learn more.
“There are many an unwed man among you,” the earl was saying.
“And here I have myself an unwed daughter. I know she isn’t much to look at—” There were some barely suppressed chuckles from among the club members.
“—but she will make a fine wife indeed. On my honor.” He laid a mocking hand over his heart.
More men began to sidle closer to the conversation. There were at least twenty of them gathered about the father and daughter.
“Which of you might bid for my daughter’s hand?”
Bid? What kind of a father…
Numbers began to be called out at a rapid pace, steadily increasing. Beside him, Vaile sighed and shook his head, taking another sip of his drink. “Despicable,” he said. “That poor woman.”
Nicolas could hardly hear him. His blue eyes were too busy scanning the crowd, taking in each of the men who were trying to buy this woman.
There was not a good man among them. Their reputations were not so poor as to blacklist them from this gentlemen’s club, but they were not the sort that Nicolas would want to associate himself with, let alone force a woman into marriage with.
“One hundred pounds!” a man said.
Vaille gave an impressed whistle. “That’s three times the price I paid for my prized stallion,” he said.
Nicolas drew closer to the commotion, unaware of Vaile calling after him.
Lady Victoria was standing in front of her father, his hands on her shoulders to hold her in place.
She was frozen in what seemed to be absolute terror, trembling in her unassuming grey gown.
Lord Corvin’s hands tightened their grip on her; she flinched, shrinking in on herself.
Her green eyes were frantically searching; then her gaze met his.
Terror. Desperation. Defeat.
“One thousand pounds.”
For half a second, he didn’t register that the bid had come from his own mouth. But there it was, out in the open, loud enough to be heard above the din. A bid so large that none of the other men in attendance would be able to challenge him.
And he knew, without much consideration, that he was willing to bid higher.
Every face turned to look at him. Viscounts, barons, earls, and more, none of them with the wealth on hand to be able to outbid him. All looked on, slack-jawed, seeing who it was who had offered such a large sum for one earl’s daughter.
Lady Victoria’s expression was unreadable.
Her father’s, on the other hand, was plain as day to decipher.
“Your Grace,” he said hurriedly, stepping in front of his daughter, whose mouth opened in shock at the title.
For a moment, Nicolas felt a tiny bubble of humor at surprising her so.
She hadn’t realized that he was a duke when she’d spoken to him, he supposed.
“I didn’t realize you were in attendance. ”
“Well, here I am,” Nicolas said, plastering his trademark cheeky smile onto his face. “Winning your daughter’s hand in marriage, from the looks of it. Unless any man dares to outbid me?”
He gazed around the room, locking eyes with each man in turn, a challenging glint in their blue depths. No one spoke up. Nicolas hummed. “As I thought.”
“Arden, what are you doing?” Vaile hissed from behind him. Nicolas ignored him and moved forward to stand directly in front of Lord Corvin.
Lord Corvin, to his credit, looked a bit embarrassed. “Your Grace,” he began, inclining his head in a sheepish manner. “I appreciate your extreme generosity in this matter, but you do not need to pity my daughter.”
“Pity?” Nicolas smiled. “No, no. Not pity.” He tried to catch Lady Victoria’s eye, but her shocked gaze was locked on her father’s face.
The earl was shaking his head, a fake smile on his face. “Are you sure you wish to go through with this offer? I will not blame you for retracting. In fact, you should leave her to one of the lesser lords. My Victoria, she—”
“I have offered you the money you’re seeking, Lord Corvin,” Nicolas said, cutting in. “And no one else is planning to offer more. Unless you’re trying to imply that your daughter is too unappealing to wed?”
“No!” Lord Corvin said hurriedly. “No, sir, not at all! Thank you, sir. Your offer is much appreciated.”
Nicolas hummed in satisfaction and tried again to catch Lady Victoria’s eye. If he could only get her attention, he could charm that distressed expression from her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and what little of her green eyes he could see was glistening.
Suppressing a frown, he looked back at her father.
The two men shook hands. “I shall call on you in a few days,” Nicolas said, directing the statement at Lord Corvin but meaning the words for Lady Victoria.
The earl was smiling tensely and nodding; his daughter still had not torn her gaze away from him.
Nicolas leaned in toward the man, lips close to his ear. “Do not attempt to avoid this deal now that it has been struck,” he said. “I am not nearly so good-natured as I appear.”
Nicolas glanced over his shoulder, spotted Vaile still standing where he’d left him, and indicated toward the door with his head. Without another word, the two men brushed past a stunned Lord Corvin and out into the late night.
The cool air felt good on his skin; he hadn’t realized how clammy he’d gotten in the past several minutes. He clenched and unclenched his fists, striding off toward wherever he and Vaile had left their horses.
Vaile, to his credit, was doing a remarkable job keeping up with his friend’s hurried pace. “What in God’s name was that?” he asked, shock and confusion evident in his voice. Nicolas said nothing, just continued walking. “Arden!”
A firm grip caught him about the elbow and pulled him to a stop. Nicolas whirled toward Vaile, betraying nothing in his expression despite the concerned crease in his friend’s brow. “Where did that come from?” Vaile asked. “Do you realize what you just did?”
“Of course I do,” he said, trying to sound much more casual than he felt at that moment. “And I hope they realize that I will no longer be frequenting that establishment. Despicable.” He spat on the ground, as if ridding his mouth of the gentlemen’s club’s sour taste.
“It was indeed,” Vaile agreed. Still, the worried look didn’t leave his face. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through?”
Of course I haven’t, Nicolas snapped internally. I have done the exact opposite of thinking this through.
“Of course,” he said out loud, forcing a grin, instinctively trying to ease Vaile’s stress and confusion. “Gave it all the proper consideration.”
They both knew he was lying. Vaile gave him an uncertain look. “You just bought yourself a wife, Arden,” he said. “What’s going on with you? Why would you do that?”
Nicolas did not know where to even begin with those questions.
So instead, he said nothing, just turned on his heel and untied his horse from its post. He swung himself up into the saddle in silence, trying his best to keep a neutral expression on his face.
Vaile’s right, though, he thought, an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. I’ve just gotten myself a wife. What the hell do I do now?