Chapter 2
Arms crossed, Lady Daphne Wilcock closed her eyes and attempted to ignore the whispers behind her. Since her previous visit to the shop that morning, gossip mounted like a tidal wave of how Alice’s brother—the gentleman who constantly ignored Daphne, Ambrose Kirkman, the beastly baron of Harlowe, though granted she was the only one who referred to him as a beast—had put the family back into dun territory. Daphne froze in fear that Alice might once again avoid her. When Alice’s father lost the Harlowe fortune in a game of cards over a decade before, Alice had distanced herself, claiming she would tarnish Daphne’s reputation and ruin Daphne’s chances at marriage. Except Daphne had already given her heart to the beast and had decided that nothing would ever break their bond as friends. She had worked tirelessly for months to regain Alice’s trust and to not give up on their friendship a decade ago, and she wasn’t about to lose her friend again. Hearing the gossip explained why Alice had been acting peculiar since their arrival in Town after spending the summer apart. Alice at the Harlowes’ country estate in Surrey, and Daphne trapped by the shore in Brighton.
Daphne spun around and crossed the crowded shop floor. She’d promised herself that this Season was to be one where she took control. No longer willing to sit idle and wait for matters to unfold, Daphne located a seamstress in one of the alcoves used for fittings. “I’d like to speak to Miss Lennox.”
The seamstress bobbed her head and curtsied before scurrying off to disappear behind the curtains.
Not long after that, that Miss Lennox greeted her, “Lady Daphne, you requested to see me.”
Daphne waved the modiste closer. “Add the expense for the lace that Miss Alice requested to my account.”
Miss Lennox looked back at her with big, wide eyes. “I can’t charge it to your account.” The shopkeeper shook her head. “Your father is meticulous. He’ll take notice and dispute amounts owed…or mayhap accuse me of…”
Daphne acknowledged the modiste’s dilemma and interrupted. “I’ll have a footman deliver the coin this afternoon.” Daphne attempted to adopt her mother’s Answer me truthfully look and added, “How much is Lord Harlowe indebted to you?”
Miss Lennox stared hard at her then reached into her skirts and withdrew a tiny book. She flipped through the pages and landed on a middling page and read, “Harlowe. A yellow boy for last season and four bob fer the lace.”
A yellow boy! She closed her eyes and calculated the sum she needed. Twenty-five shillings!! That was more than a Season’s worth of pin money. How fortunate that she’d rarely spent any of her generous allowance over the years, only indulging in the purchase of a book or two… mayhap four a year. Finally, she could repay Alice and the beast for saving her from the social piranhas over the years. Being a late bloomer meant there were many years spent along the walls of ballrooms when Alice’s dance card was full. And on the rare occasions Ambrose did make an appearance, he never failed to ask her to dance.
Miss Lennox snapped her notebook closed. “Even if ye did pay Harlowe’s debt, there is still the matter of this season’s gowns.”
Miss Lennox had a point. And if Ambrose owed the modiste such a large sum, he must owe the milliner, the haberdasher, and God knew who else.
Miss Lennox tapped her nose with her forefinger and then clasped both hands behind her back. “Wot Harlowe needs is to find himself a wife with a large dowry… a sizable one at that, and quick.” The modiste shook her head. “Tis a shame. For Harlowe’s one of the few gentlemen that seemed to care more for the family than themselves.” Miss Lennox shifted to leave.
Daphne took a step and blocked her path. “A sizable dowry, you say. How is it that you are privy to such details?”
“Bah. If us shopkeepers don’t look out for each other, we’d all be working for free.” Miss Lennox walked over to the curtain and peeked behind it. The dressmaker shook her head and snapped the curtain closed behind her. Who was on the other side of the curtain?
Daphne looked Miss Lennox square in the eye. “Is the amount Harlowe owes really that substantial?”
“Based on me calculations, his lordship is in for a monkey.”
“Five hundred pounds!” Her knees felt weak at the news.
Miss Lennox gave her a supporting hand and led her over to a chair nearby.
Daphne mumbled to herself. “How could this be? Ambrose rarely visits gaming hells and more often than not invests in the same schemes as Papa.” Daphne looked up and wrung her hands in her lap. “Please don’t tell me Papa is in a similar situation.”
“Egad!” Miss Lennox looked over her shoulder and then back at Daphne. Worry lines formed on her forehead.
“Is he? Is my papa indebted to you?”
Miss Lennox shook her head. “Oh good lord, no. Yer father settles your account monthly and adds a generous sum at the end of each season. Tis I who is indebted to yer family.”
Hmm. Unless Harlowe invested in a scheme her papa hadn”t, how could the man have emptied the Harlowe coffers? Every summer Ambrose would come to visit her papa to discuss the merits or pitfalls of a new investment. His visits were usually the highlight of her rather dull and lonely days for two reasons: Alice always accompanied him; and she didn’t have to fight with a gaggle of ladies to gain Ambrose’s undivided attention. Without the distractions and responsibilities that came along with the Season, Ambrose was attentive and relaxed. It was inevitable that her love for him was reignited after a long Season of being ignored.
A pat on Daphne’s shoulder from Miss Lennox broke her train of thought. “Like I said, me lady, Harlowe needs to find a wife and right quick. Ye have a large dowry, do ye not?”
“Ambrose would never marry me.” It was a fact that Daphne had come to accept over the past year.
“Why not? I reckon the two of you would make a lovely couple.”
Daphne had delusionally thought so too, for many years. Unable to remain seated, Daphne stood and began to pace the length of the fitting area. “Lord Harlowe rarely acknowledges me and when he does, it”s only when I’m in the company of his sister.”
Miss Lennox matched her step for step and asked, “Do ye fancy his lordship?”
“What?” Daphne stopped and she faced Miss Lennox. “Me…fancy Lord Harlowe? Of course not.”
“Then why are ye blushing?”
Her cheeks burned whenever she attempted to lie and today was no different. Hoping the question was a rhetorical one, Daphne shrugged.
Miss Lennox eyed Daphne and then proposed, “If ye get Harlowe to agree to court ye, I’ll pretend his accounts are in good standing.”
She mulled over the idea and then replied, “You do realize courtships do not always end in marriage.”
“If ye really want to be of help to yer best friend, ye best convince Harlowe to marry you. Can ye imagine Miss Alice happy in last season’s gowns?”
Miss Lennox’s words hit Daphne right in the center of her chest. Did the seamstress know of Daphne’s secret desire to be of use in some way, or had it been happenstance that the woman selected the string of words that would motivate Daphne the most?
“Think upon me offer and send word by tomorrow eve. I’ll need to know if I shall be delivering Miss Alice her new gown or working on repurposing it for another.” Miss Lennox walked out of the fitting area. “Ladies, my apologies for the delay. Who”s next?”
Daphne followed the woman out front and wasn’t in the least bit surprised that the patrons, her peers, were still abuzz with the news of Harlowe’s hardship. The gossip burned her ears. She needed to leave.
Exiting out onto the street, both her maid and Charlie, one of the family Sumnerson footmen, approached.
Charlie waved his gloved hand to point a little way down the street. “The carriage is this way, my lady.”
“I wish to take a stroll and ponder over a matter.” Daphne turned to face her maid and asked, “The park or the streets?”
Her maid, Sue, glanced over her shoulder at Charlie who shrugged. “I believe at stroll in the park would be quieter and safer, my lady.”
Daphne marched in the direction Charlie had indicated and said, “Very well, we’ll take the carriage to Hyde Park then.”
When they reached the Sumnerson carriage, Charlie opened the door and without protest Daphne entered and sank into the forward-facing seat. She peeked out the window and caught Sue grinning broadly as her maid followed Charlie around to the back. She’d have to help Sue, for Charlie was oblivious to her maid’s sweet blushes and bright smiles when he was near. Men—utterly clueless unless you were falling into their arms.
* * *
Having reachedthe normally overcrowded park, Daphne reflected that one of the benefits of returning to London early was that one could easily swing her arms out wide like a bird and not touch another soul, not that she would dare behave in such an unladylike manner. Daphne squeezed together her hands, which were tucked neatly in her muff. The temptation to break the rules mounted within her each Season that passed, and after eight Seasons it was quickly becoming a matter of when, not if, she would find herself courting a scandal. To enter a courtship with the sole purpose of assisting a friend wouldn’t constitute a scandal—would it?
The swish of skirts from behind reminded her she was not alone. Moments later, Sue’s cheery voice reached Daphne. “I’m sure Miss Alice will be fine.”
After her nursemaid retired and a string of maids who found it too difficult of a task to understand Daphne”s contemplative nature, Sue, the third assigned to her just in the past year, was a Godsend with her sunny disposition and endless optimism.
Daphne continued forward, eyes glued to the path, and mumbled mostly to herself but also for her maid’s ears. “I’ve heard of gentlemen losing everything on a roll of the dice or the turn of a card, but Ambrose… he rarely takes risks or extends himself. The beast is a mathematician. Well aware of the odds and not likely to gamble large sums… or maybe…”
Sue’s gray skirts came into view at Daphne’s side. With a broad smile, her maid asked, “Have ye known Lord Harlowe for a long time?”
She scanned her surroundings. With nary a soul in sight along the stretch of path she was on, Daphne ignored convention and walked alongside Sue. “I met Alice and Am…I mean Lord Harlowe at court ten years ago.”
Eight Seasons should have been plenty of time for her to have to found a way to make Ambrose take notice of her. Yet the man whose warm brown eyes melted her heart never spoke to her unless required to by etiquette.
The tips of black Hessian boots came into sight. Daphne halted and lifted her gaze to find Ambrose smiling at her. The fierce beast’s scowl that she was more than accustomed to was nowhere in sight. Instead Ambrose stood before her with his lips tilted up at the corners exposing his remarkably straight teeth.
“Lady Daphne.”
Even faced with financial trouble, the man appeared refreshed and oh so handsome. Her gaze, like always, focused on the eyes that made her pulse race. “Lord Harlowe.”
His smile faded and he asked, “I thought we had dispensed with honorifics many moons ago.”
She hadn’t thought of him as Lord Harlowe for years. “I’m not family and we are out in public, my lord.” Did he flinch at the mention of not being related by blood?
She scanned the path in front of her. The few that were about earlier were no longer within sight. She turned to look behind her to find the path empty. They were alone. A rare occurrence, one which she wished happened more frequently. While she wanted not to give a fig about the silly societal rules that dictated what was or was not appropriate behavior, she never wanted to taint her family or bring shame upon the Wilcock clan. With no one about to report upon her behavior, a surge of daring rolled through Daphne. Rather than demurely lowering her gaze, she continued to stare directly up at Ambrose.
His right eyebrow arched as he suggested, “Shall we take a stroll?” He winged his arm for her.
Ahh… so the man had no reservation speaking to her or being in her company as long as there were no witnesses. Or were the rumors true, and Ambrose had decided her dowry would sufficiently restore him to good standing. Both possibilities for him directing his attention upon her pierced her racing heart. Even if she wanted to take his arm, her pride wouldn’t allow it. “You can do as you please, I shall continue on.”
He didn’t speak but matched her stride for stride. When they continued around the bend, he stalled and then reappeared on her left side. Had he switched sides to shield her from the rare rays of sun? She frowned and banished the fanciful thought from her mind.
Hands clasped behind his back, Ambrose leaned slightly forward and turned to look at her. “Attempting to solve a weighty problem? Might I be of assistance?”
Not one to mince words, she stopped and he did as well. She whirled around to face him. “How could you place Alice in such a predicament?”
“I swear I intend to rectify matters as soon as possible.” He reached out and tucked a lock of hair that had escaped her coiffure behind her ear. “My apologies for causing you to worry.” He didn’t look abashed at his failings. In fact he seemed rather pleased as he continued on. “Let me assure you that there is no need to worry about Alice. While I set my family”s financial affairs back to rights, my dear independent aunt Lady Farnsbury has agreed to sponsor Alice this Season. So Alice will have her French lace after all. However, this may be my sister’s last Season adorned in the latest fashion, so please assist me in encouraging her to find a suitable man to wed.”
Daphne noted Ambrose hadn’t specified that his sister was to marry a peer, unlike the majority of guardians would have. Her own papa had made it perfunctorily clear she was to land a lord for a husband and that he’d decline all other requests for her hand. Her mind raced with the names of all the eligible bachelors her mother had drilled into her head over the summer. She simply couldn’t picture Alice choosing to wed any of them and so she cocked her head to one side and said, “You are referring to your very own sister, Alice Kirkman, the most stubborn woman ever born, are you not?”
He released a resigned sigh. “I am.” The concern in his slightly misty eyes was legitimate. Alice had grown up without a father but she had been blessed with the most wonderful, attentive, caring older brother. What woman wouldn’t want to marry such a caring man? Blast the man for making her fall more in love with him.
“I’m afraid Alice and I shall remain in spinster seating unless you know of a gentleman who is daring enough to take on the challenge of discovering Alice’s sweet yet vulnerable side. As you know, her sharp wit tends to send men scurrying across the room.”
He stared down at her with an intensity that made her swallow hard.
Blink. She needed to blink to break the spell Ambrose was casting upon her, but she couldn’t stop staring back at the man she’d been infatuated with for years.
A flash of recognition—no, concern—appeared in Ambrose’s eyes. “And in doing so, Alice has in turn prevented you from finding a husband also.”
“Mayhap that is the exact reason I choose to remain loyal at your sister”s side.” Alice’s ability to scare off potential suitors was exceptional, but Daphne wasn’t opposed to the idea of marriage like Alice was. Daphne was simply single minded as to whom she’d like to marry: the man glaring down at her.
“Does that mean you do not wish to wed?”
She wanted to stomp on the man’s toes and scream. But at the sight of his flushed cheeks, she held her tongue.
Ambrose shook his head in what looked to be embarrassment. “My apologies, Lady Daphne, that was rude of me to ask. It’s just that Alice is normally so direct, that I find it difficult to understand other women.”
“I see.” Alice was extremely blunt, and it hadn’t occurred to Daphne that his distant behavior stemmed from shyness and not indifference. She scanned the park once more, but it appeared that no one else was interested in taking a brisk afternoon walk. She removed her hand from her warm muff, looped her arm through his, and led Ambrose down the path. She’d dreamt of walking in the park by Ambrose’s side many times. Him looking adoringly down at her. Her giving him sweet smiles. But now that it was really occurring, she was a jumbled mess of nerves.
Gathering every ounce of courage she could muster, she flickered a quick glance up at Ambrose and said, “Shall we agree going forward to always speak freely?”
“I’d like that.” Ambrose nodded. “I’d like that very much, Lady Daphne.”
“Then I shall give you leave to call me Daphne, and I shall drop honorifics when addressing you in return—agreed?”
He answered with a question of his own. “Did you know you have a tendency to speak as if every encounter is a transaction?”
Two could play that game. “Is life not one large deal?”
He stopped, withdrew his arm and took a step back to rake his gaze over her from head to toe and then back up to eyes again. What in the devil was the man up to? She looked to her right and then to her left, and was shocked to find that they had ventured off the path and were now alone. Even Sue was no longer within sight. Egad. If they were caught alone sans chaperone by anyone, Ambrose would have managed to involve himself in two scandals all in one day.
Ambrose circled her. “I think I better understand why Alice is so fond of your company.”
“Is that so? Pray share your theorem with me.”
He stopped once he was directly in front of her. “You are refreshing to the soul and blindingly beautiful.”
Daphne swayed as the light breeze pushed her forward. Forward into Ambrose’s embrace. Her eyes fluttered closed as he bent closer becoming a blur. The light pressure of his lips upon hers was exactly as she’d imagine it would be. Tender yet intentional. Behind Ambrose’s calm exterior lay a man of passion. After years of wondering how to appeal to the man, she wanted to groan at her lack of awareness—she simply had to speak to him and be herself. A sigh of pleasure escaped her as Ambrose’s mouth left hers.
“Marry me.” Had she uttered the words or had he?
Ambrose released her and quickly stepped back. “I beg your pardon.”
Shehad, and she wasn’t going to retract the idea after experiencing the kiss she’d fantasized of. Ambrose’s soft but firm kiss set her blood on fire. All alone with no one about, she had the courage to do what she’d wanted to for eight long years. And he had given her the perfect reason. “I asked if you would marry me.” She cupped his cheek and gazed directly into his eyes. “I have a large dowry… a very sizable one, in fact, and you are in need of funds.”
“You are talking of marriage, not some bloody investment transaction.”
“I one hundred percent agree with you. I’ve decided to invest my future in you.” Pleased with her response, she rolled up on to her toes and kissed Ambrose, who groaned and then wrapped his arms around her to bring her closer.
Seconds or mayhap minutes passed. She wasn’t certain how long it was before Ambrose pulled back to say, “I’m honored but…”
Argh. The horrid but. She cut him off and finished the thought for him. “You do not wish to marry me.”
His brows knitted together. Ambrose stood silent and didn’t even attempt to refute her last statement. The man who had declared to all and sundry at the modiste shop he was broke wasn’t interested in marrying her, even if it was just for her dowry. While the kisses had sent her heart racing, mayhap Ambrose had found them droll and uninspiring. Her heart clenched in her chest. She spun around and fled.
The tear threatening to roll down her cheek moments before had barely escaped when she heard his footfalls right behind her. Before she could change directions and head back toward the path and her awaiting maid, Daphne found herself once again wrapped up in Ambrose’s arms.
Holding her tight from behind, he spoke softly next to her ear. “A wise man advised me to always do research before investing.”
It was her father’s favorite motto. It dawned on her that while their kiss reinforced her feelings for Ambrose, it was more than likely the first time Ambrose was really seeing her… seeing her in an entirely new light, and not as his little sister’s best friend.
“I’d like for us to become better acquainted before we stand before a reverend.”
Better acquainted!A mixture of anger and frustration mounted within her, which then turned into a deep unsettling ache lodged in her chest. She couldn’t breathe. For once, being right wasn’t in the least bit rewarding. She hadn’t imagined his indifference all these years. He truly had not noticed her while she knew every nuance about him.
“I retract my offer.” Hurt and confused by her wish to remain in his arms, and needing to escape, Daphne pulled away. “If it is truly Alice’s last season, I shall do my best to assist her in finding a gentleman worthy of her love.”
“Aha! So, marriage isn’t merely another transaction in your opinion.”
She glared at Ambrose. Men spoke in financial terms all the time. He needed funds, and she could provide him with a solution to his financial woes if he simply agreed to marry her. Love was not a necessary consideration. Marriages amongst the ton were often negotiated with total disregard to the feelings of the bride and groom. So long as the arrangement benefited both families in some way, society matrons endorsed and favored such unions.
Only fools like her believed in love matches.
Ambrose’s gaze lowered to her lips briefly and then rose to stare directly in her own eyes.
As if he’d said it out loud, in her mind she clearly heard him say I want to marry for love.
She studied him for a moment longer before shaking her head. He wouldn’t have created a humiliating ruse all in an attempt to find a love match. She slowly shook her head once more. The Ambrose she knew wouldn’t make Alice endure scorn and embarrassment for his sake. The Ambrose she loved didn’t have a selfish bone in his body. But what if she was right? If Ambrose was looking for a love match, was it even possible for him to fall in love with her? She’d trailed after him all these years and he hadn’t noticed her—not until today.
She wasn’t prone to fainting but her thoughts were awhirl and her heart threatened to stop. She couldn’t continue their staring match.
Her knees buckled and she dropped into a curtsy. “Pray excuse me, Lord Harlowe, I must find my maid.”She turned her back to him and ran. Ran as fast as she could away.