Chapter 5
One kiss.
One kiss from the innocent Lady Daphne and his entire scheme for the Season was in shambles. Ambrose paced the length of the private room at his club awaiting the arrival of Daphne’s father, his mentor, Viscount Sumnerson.
The door creaked open. “Harlowe.” The man who had been his role model for several years walked in and sank into the wing-back chair next to the fire. “Stop worrying and come sit.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Explain why Daphne believes you are in financial trouble.”
If Ambrose shared it was all part of his insane plan to find a wife this Season, the man whose approval he sought the most would certainly laugh at him. However, Ambrose also knew the man hated wasting time. “As a baron, many ladies are beyond my reach and I’d rather not marry a fortune hunter.”
“Are you suffering from a fever?”
“No.”
“A title does not define a man.” He glanced at Ambrose and then focused upon the roaring fire in front of them. “Our club, the members of Masters are proof of that.”
It was fact. There was no discrimination within the exclusive twenty-member club. Membership was not based on if you were titled or not, a gentleman or a bastard. Having spent many an hour with his fellow Masters, whose backgrounds and motivations were varied, Ambrose came to appreciate that the comradery of those that were not born into wealth. He wanted a wife who valued him for his abilities, not his title or his wealth.
He summoned the courage and looked Sumnerson directly in the eyes. “What if I were to ask your permission to marry your daughter?” After the scene at the Hadfield soiree, he wanted to protect Daphne from scandal. That and the fact he couldn’t stop thinking about the woman.
“Prior to your hare-brained scheme, I wouldn’t have hesitated and would have been honored to welcome you as part of our family.”
Hare brained or not, his scheme had worked. Not a single matron paid him any notice on his arrival at the Hadfield soiree. Without a gaggle of ladies following him about, he was able to focus his attentions on Daphne. Their kiss in the park had awakened something within him, a peculiar mix of emotions that he couldn’t readily name. What did one call a mix of familiarity, frustration, exhilaration, and longing all rolled into one? Whatever it was, it was the driving force for his meeting with Sumnerson.
Ambrose looked at the man that might become his future father-in-law and with his nerves tangled, he asked, “And now? Would you give me your blessing?”
Sumnerson let out a sigh. “I’m a man of my word. And you already know I’ve promised Daphne, I shall not force her to marry, nor will I stop her if she chooses you. However, I’d advise you to seriously contemplate your reasoning for concocting such a plan. Address those concerns with candidness and you shall avoid disappointment and heartache.”
Ambrose stared at Sumnerson for a moment as the man’s words soaked into his mind. Disappointment and heartache. Neither were foreign to Ambrose.
Refocusing on the discussion at hand, Ambrose openly shared, “I fear it won’t be easy to convince Daphne to accept my suit.”
“You’ve got the right of it. She can be rather stubborn.” Sumnerson leaned forward and faced the roaring fire. “I’m curious… why marry? But more importantly, why Daphne?”
“I wanted to wait until I amassed enough funds to ensure that my wife and children would not have to endure the anxiety of the Harlowe coffers mimicking the motions of a swing as I did.” Ambrose debated as to how much to disclose about his encounter with Daphne in the park. The encounter that had opened his eyes to see Daphne was a mature passionate woman, and made him feel comfortable in his own body in a way he had only dreamed of before. The brief glimpse had him wanting more. “Lady Daphne is divine. The gentleman she chooses for a husband will be the luckiest man alive.”
“Bah! I view Daphne with the distorted lens of a parent. Of course I think she is perfect, but in reality I know the girl is a handful and I wish you luck if you intend to make her the Baroness of Harlowe.”
It was an endorsement he never really believed possible. He had been studious at school but not the top classman, a solid team player but never the captain, and he was more than happy to tap his toe on the sidelines at a ball rather than twirl a lady about the dance floor.
Ambrose looked over at the viscount. “Aside from wishing me luck, do you by chance have any words of wisdom as how exactly I should go about winning Lady Daphne’s hand?”
“Like me, she possesses a logical mindset. Like her mama, Daphne has the heart of gold. Treasure her uniqueness and you should succeed.”
“Lord Sumnerson, as you know, detailed plans suit me best.”
“Ah, but when it comes to the matter of love, there rarely is a right or a wrong way to go about things.” Daphne’s father stood and rolled his shoulders. “It’s been an extremely long and trying day, my boy, yet I’m eager to return home and enjoy the best part of my day.”
Ambrose looked up at the man. With a simple shrug and a smile, Lord Sumnerson shed five years. Apparently, the thought of returning to his family reinvigorated his spirits.
Ambrose stood, and with a nod Lord Sumnerson left him to ponder on the day’s events. Except he was alone for but a moment when Foxton entered and marched straight to the sideboard and poured drinks for them both.
“Your sister is a harridan. Did you hear me, Harlowe? An absolute harridan.”
He took the glass from his fellow Masters member and replied, “Alice is hardly what I would consider old at five-and-twenty; however, she can be rather obstinate at times.”
“Bossy, interfering, unyielding…”
Ambrose held up his glass and said, “Why exactly are you here?”
“To offer you my assistance, of course. How much do you need to set matters straight?”
Sputtering at the magnanimous offer, Ambrose leapt to his feet. “I’ve not seen you in nearly three years, you”ve only recently returned, and yet you are willing to help me. What’s the catch?”
“Keep your sister at bay.”
“Egad, man. A rake with your reputation shouldn’t be scared of my little sister.”
“I’m not scared… I’m petrified. My ears are still ringing from the tongue lashing she gave me earlier.”
Ambrose couldn’t help but smile. He was rather proud of his sister for managing to set the man drinking with him on edge. Foxton’s bravado was only skin deep. The man despised confrontation even to the smallest degree. “I heard you will be venturing off to the seaside come morning.”
“Yes, I’ll be accompanying Lady Whalen to her new abode, along with Dartman, Whistlestop, and Hurlington.”
Lord Dartman was also a fellow Masters member; however, the Duke of Whistlestop and the Earl of Hurlington were not. Masters membership was restricted to twenty men who came from all walks of life. Some titled, some illegitimate, some were younger sons of titled gentlemen, while some were men who had elevated their station through pure hard work and determination. The only requirement for continued membership was that the size of the member’s bank ledger must exceed two hundred thousand pounds and he must keep the names of fellow members a secret. He recalled Sumnerson’s words from earlier—a title does not define a man. Gerald Ellerman, the founder of Masters, started off as a shipowner who ended up investing in newspapers, coal mines, and London property. He was a self-made man and one of the most respected men in all of London, invited to attend court regularly and every other ton event, not because others knew of his wealth but because the man was well spoken and liked. Ellerman commanded a room with ease and poise.
“Harlowe!” Foxton was waving his empty glass in the air. “Have you heard a word I said?”
“Beg your pardon, Foxton, my mind was elsewhere.” Ambrose took Foxton’s tumbler and walked to the sideboard. “While I appreciate your offer of assistance, it is not at all necessary. I still qualify for membership; I had simply wished to ensure that the woman I proposed to wasn’t a treasure hunter.” He poured a generous finger of brandy into the glasses and returned to sit by the fire. He handed Foxton his glass. “Turns out my entire scheme was redundant.”
Foxton took the tumbler from Ambrose. “Ah, so you have already identified who shall be the next Baroness of Harlowe. Who is the lucky gel?”
“Lady Daphne Wilcock.”
Foxton’s eyes grew wide as he choked on the amber liquid. “Your sister”s boon companion. The chit that is always within arm’s length of you…that Lady Daphne?”
“You exaggerate. Lady Daphne hasn’t always been close at hand. I would have noticed…wouldn’t I?” Ambrose couldn’t recall a single event over the past eight years where his sister hadn’t been within sight of him, a rule he’d firmly established in her debut season. Damnation, that meant Foxton was correct, but why had he not noted Daphne”s beauty prior to today?
“I imagine you might have viewed Lady Daphne akin to a little sister all these years. Trust me, as a brother who is about to embark on launching his youngest and third sister into society this Season, it is not easy to acknowledge that they are no longer girls in the school room but fine young ladies ready to embark upon the next stage of life.” Foxton downed the rest of his drink. “I’m glad to hear the rumors of your hardship were false. I plan on returning to London at the onset of the Season. Since I too will be subjected to the tiresome social route, I shall be cheering you on from the sidelines and wishing you all the success in winning Lady Daphne’s hand.” Foxton placed his empty glass on the side table and rose to his feet. The man stood in front of Ambrose, ran his fingers along his jaw until they came together at his chin, opened his mouth as if to speak, and then pivoted to march out of the room muttering under his breath.
If Ambrose had to wager, he’d bet a thousand pounds that Foxton was still grumbling over his run in with Alice. The pair were like oil and water. Ambrose just wasn’t certain who was water and who was oil. Hmm…Alice had to be oil, for Foxton was definitely the denser of the two.
Ambrose leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Images of Daphne over the past eight Seasons flickered through his memory. He’d been an oblivious fool in the past, but that was the past. His new mission was to discover who Lady Daphne really was.