Chapter 4
The Hadfield soiree was the last place Daphne wished to be.
The Duke of Fairmont’s ball, which heralded the official start of every Season, was not scheduled for another two weeks. Tonight”s soiree was an intimate affair, which she normally preferred over the jostling loud balls during the Season. However, with so few in town, Ambrose’s scandal was the featured topic of conversation. She had no interest in the rumors of Ambrose’s financial demise, of which she remained skeptical. Unlike Alice, who appeared to be able to ignore the horrid gossip flowing about her without effort, Daphne’s head and stomach ached every time she heard the derogatory remarks about Ambrose’s carelessness with the family fortune. Standing along the back wall of the Hadfield music room, Daphne’s gaze fell to her clasped hands where her thumbs circled each other.
Ambrose... Alice… The Harlowe fortune… Ambrose… Alice.Her thoughts over the matter mirrored her thumbs, going around and around. While others were quick to believe Ambrose had repeated his father’s reckless behavior, she couldn’t fully accept the idea that Ambrose had indeed emptied the family coffers that she knew he’d worked diligently to refill. It simply made no sense.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Ambrose asked from beside her.
Stunned at Ambrose’s sudden appearance, Daphne stared up into his unusually serious features. His normally cheery disposition didn’t reach his eyes and his slightly lopsided smile was missing. Most interpreted her staid behavior to be disdain or a total lack of interest in others; however, the truth was, she simply needed a few extra moments to respond. The result of her mama’s mantra that one should always think before acting. She kept her head bent, suppressing her desire to study Ambrose’s features to see how he was faring with all the nasty remarks being hurled about. But she couldn’t face him, especially not after the debacle in the park. Reminded of his rejection, a surge of anger and embarrassment rolled through her and before she could think she said, “Since you’ve not a penny to spare, I shall keep my thoughts to myself.” Egad. She wasn’t normally so harsh or careless with her words.
Ambrose shifted to stand before her. As she stared down at the tips of his boots, her mind raced to evaluate her options. Look up and face the man or take a large step to the side and then run. Arghh. She’d promised herself earlier never to run away from Ambrose again. Leaving him with matters unresolved at the park had been a mistake and she was no fool to make the same error twice…at least not twice in one day.
Ambrose’s gloved hand appeared, and he placed a forefinger under her chin, tilting her head up until their gazes met. “Will you accept an IOU?”
At least he wasn’t scowling or glaring down at her. However, his smile was forced, and his tone didn’t hold its usual playfulness.
She should apologize. Instead, she blurted, “I should go find Alice.”
Ambrose turned to glance behind him. “She’s occupied.”
Daphne peered around Ambrose to find Alice chatting with a gentleman she did not recognize from across the room.
“I hadn’t realized Foxton had returned home.” Ambrose turned around and scanned the crowd. “Wonder where Dartman is?”
She studied Ambrose’s broad shoulders that filled out his jacket perfectly. She lightly tapped him on the back. “I’m sorry.”
Ambrose turned back around to face her. “Don’t be. After all I’m the one responsible for placing myself in this mess.”
She didn’t know how to respond. A change of topics might help thaw the frostiness between them. “Are you friends with Lord Foxton?”
He turned at the waist, looking in Alice and Lord Foxton’s direction. “We are acquaintances. Foxton and I belong to the same gentleman clubs and whatnot.” He turned back around to face her once more. “Why do you ask?”
“Well…” Heat traveled up her neck and she was certain the tips of her ears were bright pink. “I can’t imagine you having much in common with Foxton considering he’s are renowned rake.”
“You might be surprised at how much we do have in common.” Ambrose gave her a wink.
Daphne blinked at the man standing in front of her. This was a side of Ambrose she’d never seen before. Mayhap he hadn’t been the only one blind all these years.
Ambrose, the scoundrel, pointedly looked at the tops of her ears and cheeks then added, “It’s rather warm in here, is it not?”
“It is rather.”
“Shall we take a stroll along the terrace?” Ambrose stepped around to stand beside her and placed his hand on the small of her back.
The man had taken leave of his senses, touching her so intimately. She flickered a glance up at Ambrose. Who was this man? Rakes were not renowned for their financial prowess. Mayhap Foxton had something to do with Ambrose’s financial woes. She shouldn’t venture out alone with a gentleman even if it was Ambrose.
Ambrose glanced down at her and caught her staring. He drummed his fingers on her lower back. “Shall we?”
She really shouldn’t, but her curiosity got the better of her. “Mayhap we could invite Foxton and Alice to join us along the way.”
“Absolutely not.” Ambrose’s uncharacteristically loud reply garnered looks from all parties about the room, including Foxton and Alice, who were both scowling.
Perhaps Ambrose was right, for it didn’t appear either Foxton or Alice would be good company right now. She walked the perimeter of the room with Ambrose close at hand. His possessive touch did not go unnoticed by others. They were not engaged, nor courting. She wasn’t certain she liked this version of Ambrose. Except she couldn’t deny she was curious to discover more about the scoundrel next to her. Slipping out the open terrace doors, Daphne rushed forward to lean against the balustrade and inhaled.
Three deep breaths later, her pulse simmered back to its normal even pace. She turned to face Ambrose, who stood way too close with his back pressed up against the stone partition. She should have taken a step back, but she remained frozen and unable to look away from Ambrose’s solemn features. He had his hands clasped in front and his head bowed. In the moonlight Ambrose looked like he was carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders, which was understandable if he truly was in dire financial straits.
“I spoke to my papa this afternoon.”
“About?”
“The rumors flying about that you are in dun territory.”
“And?”
“Must be a blasted family trait,” Daphne muttered to herself.
Ambrose smirked. He must know how frustrating it is to only receive one-word responses, for Alice was the queen of such conversational behavior.
“My apologies, Daphne. It does seem like we Kirkmans have a terrible habit of not forming proper sentences.” He shifted and leaned his hip against the balustrade to face her. “Pray tell, what did your father have to say?”
“He shared that he too had heard the gossip and that anything was possible but he wished to speak to you directly about the matter before forming any opinions.”
“If the rumors were not true, don’t you suppose I’d have refuted them already?” He tugged on his cravat and then continued, “I’d be a fool not to, seeing as I’m on the hunt for a wife this Season. The gossip obviously doesn’t endear me to any of the papas, and what woman would want to marry a destitute baron?”
She tilted her head to capture his gaze. His response was well crafted as if he’d practiced the lie many times prior. If he was attempting to deceive the ton, adopting the persona of a scoundrel might be part of his scheme. Ambrose’s right brow dipped and then arched. Her gaze was clearly making him nervous.
The Ambrose she was familiar with would never be so irresponsible as to gamble away his entire family”s fortune nor would he be so nonchalant about the matter. If he truly was broke, the man would be scrambling to do whatever it took to set matters to rights.
Daphne looked back into the music room and found Alice laughing and enjoying her evening with fellow spinster Lady Hazel Arbor, whose brother happened to be Ambrose’s closest friend. Lady Hazel had a considerable dowry. Was she the one Ambrose hoped to ensnare this Season? After all, it wasn’t uncommon to fall for your best friend”s sibling—she herself was proof of that.
She glanced over at Ambrose, whose gaze was also trained in the direction of his sister and Lady Hazel. If Lady Hazel was the woman Ambrose wanted, then as Alice’s friend she should assist. She straightened and said, “Lady Hazel has a sizable dowry.”
“You are quite right, but if I’m not mistaken, not as large as yours.”
“Didn’t you reject my proposal earlier today?”
“Did I? I don’t believe so. Even if I had, a man can change his mind, can’t he?”
“You’d have better luck persuading Lady Hazel’s brother than my papa if in fact you are as broke as you purport.”
“Why do you continue to doubt that my coffers are barren?”
“Because I know you. And you would never place Alice in such a predicament.”
“Mayhap you don’t know me as well as you think.” Ambrose leaned forward and spoke into her ear. “Allow me to take you for a carriage ride on the morrow.”
Daphne imagined that if anyone was to look out the window at that moment, it could appear as if Ambrose was about to kiss her, placing her at risk of being compromised. This time, she took a large step backwards, but her newly fashioned shoes with heels caught in a crevice and she lost her balance, her arm flaying in the air.
Simultaneously, warm arms wrapped around her waist and a collective gasp from the other side of the glass door forced Daphne to reach out and grab Ambrose by the lapels of his coat and bury her face into his chest.
Heavy booted footsteps pounded towards them accompanied with the familiar susurrus of slippers. If it was indeed her parents as she suspected, she was doomed. She held on tight to the man, hoping that this was all a bad dream and that when she opened her eyes she’d be safe in her four-poster bed at home.
Her papa’s voice boomed, “Harlowe, unhand my daughter this instant.”
Rather than Ambrose’s arms loosening about her, he tightened his hold. “I can’t.”
“Why ever not?”
“My cufflinks are entwined in the material of her gown and her heel is stuck in the crack.”
Daphne peeked and found her father assessing the situation and then shooing the crowd back inside. “Nothing to see here. Harlowe was simply acting honorably. Preventing Daphne from falling. It appears that my daughter has twisted her ankle.” Her father looked over his shoulder and spoke to her mother. “Take her home.” Brow furrowed, her father added, “And I’ll have a word with you, Harlowe, in private.”
Her mother untangled Ambrose’s cufflink and assisted her to an upright position but as she dislodged the shoe, the heel broke.
Ambrose whispered, “Allow me to carry you out to your carriage.”
Embarrassed by the entire scene she nodded and kept her face tucked against his chest as he bent and place his arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms.
“Do not worry. Your father will honor his promise to you.”
“You know of his promise to me to never force me to marry?”
“Of course; every gentleman knows.”
She wasn’t certain how to respond to Ambrose’s comment. A wave of confusion washed over her as he placed her in the forward-facing seat of her father’s carriage. Had her father’s promise in some way dissuaded suitors?