Chapter 2
TULIP’S STOMACH BEGAN to twist in knots as she watched the family patriarch, John Farthingale, stride down the steps of Lady Fullerton’s terrace in an obvious rage. “Tulip, what in the name of heaven?”
“Oh, dear,” she whispered, watching his approach with trepidation.
“I have you,” Alexander Havers, this new Duke of Davenport, responded with surprising calm.
She had to admire him for his cool resolve as he slid a proprietary arm around her waist, all the while knowing what was about to happen.
“Ah, Mr. Farthingale. Perfect timing. I was just coming to look for you.”
John arched an eyebrow. “And for what reason might that be?”
“Has Caruthers not told you? Well, he might be a little sore because he has lost this courtship battle. I just proposed to your ward,” he said, glancing at Tulip, “and she has accepted to marry me.”
A collective gasp arose from the throng of curious onlookers who had followed John out of Lady Fullerton’s house, one that ended in disappointment because there was no scandal in a couple kissing upon a marriage proposal.
Not only was there no scandal, but murmurs of frustration could be heard from several marriage-minded mamas and their daughters who now realized that the Duke of Davenport had just been taken off the marriage mart.
Lord Julius Thorne, who was Davenport’s best friend, made his way through the crowd. “Davenport! Well done! May I be the first to extend my hearty congratulations? Gory,” he said, referring to his wife, the former Lady Gregoria Easton, “will be thrilled when she learns of this.”
“Thank you, Thorne,” he said with a gracious nod, offering no hint that his life had just been upended by a wayward Farthingale.
Oh, Tulip felt so bad about this.
How were they to fix this mess?
The slight tightening of Davenport’s arm around her waist was his way of warning her not to confess anything, and certainly not the truth.
She fully intended to follow his lead because she was quite out of her depth at this moment.
Julius’s brother, Ambrose, Duke of Huntsford, offered the same warm cheers. “Adela and I shall happily second my brother’s good wishes.”
Adela, his wife who was standing beside him, nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. We offer our hearty congratulations. Davenport, you’ve chosen wisely. Tulip shall make you an excellent wife.”
“I know,” he said with surprising conviction, smiling as he glanced at Tulip.
Oh, dear heaven.
The Thorne brothers and their wives had to be aware this was all a ruse.
While Davenport had become good friends with the Thorne brothers, she had become best friends with their wives. They all knew she had spent the last few months running away from Davenport and not encouraging their acquaintance.
Having issued his congratulations, Julius had to now be silently trying to figure out what had really just happened. Tulip noticed him staring at Davenport and gesturing with raised eyebrows, as though trying to communicate in a secret code.
Well, they would all learn the truth soon enough.
But for now, they would go along with this sham of a marriage proposal because this is what friends did.
Supported each other.
Davenport had saved Julius’s wife, Gory, last year after she had been involved in the mystery surrounding her uncle’s death, so Julius was going to stand by his friend no matter what later transpired.
Davenport, not then a duke and merely known as Alexander Havers, top investigator for the London magistrate, had been assigned to solve this difficult crime that everyone was still talking about because Gory’s uncle, the Earl of Easton, had been murdered.
Worse, suspicion had fallen on Gory.
It was Davenport’s keen mind and sharp observation abilities that probably saved Gory’s life, for not only was she innocent, but the killer intended her to be the next victim.
Of course, Julius had been by Gory’s side at every step, intent on protecting her and doing a very able job of it.
But it was Davenport who had figured out how the crime had been committed and who had done it.
He was brilliant.
All of London knew this.
Tulip smiled up at this man whose kiss still lingered pleasantly on her lips. “Davenport is quite excellent himself. A better man than I ever realized. I was surprised, but most grateful for his offer of marriage.”
“I’m not,” Julius said with a satisfied nod. “Well, I am only going by what Gory told me. She saw the spark between the two of you immediately and hoped for this happy outcome.”
Tulip suspected this was a complete exaggeration.
Gory was engrossed in bones and medical dissections, and now caught up in preparing to give birth to their first child, for she was about eight months along.
This explained why Julius had come alone to Lady Fullerton’s rout. His wife was the size of a small whale right now.
Tulip smiled sweetly as Adela added to their ruse. “I saw it, too. The sparks between you two could light up the night sky.”
“Ah, you are so very clever,” Davenport said smoothly. “We thought it might be impossible to fool our good friends.”
John’s wife, Sophie, now made her way through the crowd. She was the matriarch of the Farthingale clan and the one to be credited for holding their large family together.
“Oh, my word,” Sophie said with a groan. “Am I hearing right? Is there to be another wedding?”
What she really meant, as she cast Tulip a look of exasperation, was that not a single Farthingale female had ever managed a proper courtship, and now Tulip was about to be added to that growing list.
Tulip cast her a wincing smile. “Yes, Aunt Sophie. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Sophie sighed.
The last dozen Farthingale weddings had been chaotically patched together affairs. Poor Sophie had been the one charged with organizing a wedding breakfast within a matter of days each time.
Tulip hoped her count was a little off and she wasn’t number thirteen.
Not that she was superstitious, but why tempt fate?
Having this number of rushed weddings within the family did not speak well for the Farthingale brides involved, she supposed.
“Hooray! Another wedding!” Tulip’s cousin, Marigold, cried as she pushed her way forward through the crowd.
Marigold had been the last Farthingale to wed in haste and was now happily married to Leonides Poole, the Marquess of Muir.
Having been caught kissing Leo in similar circumstances, she had to know this announcement was utter fakery.
But ever softhearted, Marigold would never give them away.
Of course, her cousin was going to ask a hundred questions afterward.
Davenport turned to John. “I would appreciate discussing this matter with you privately, Mr. Farthingale.”
Tulip coughed to stifle her laughter.
Had Davenport just asked for a private meeting?
Did he not realize with whom he was dealing? The Farthingales had raised meddling to an art form.
The word private did not exist within the family’s vocabulary.
The elders were already starting to gather around John.
Those included John’s two brothers, George and Rupert.
George was a revered doctor, London’s finest, and among the smartest men she had ever met.
Nothing ever got past him, although the same could be said of Davenport who still had his arm protectively around her waist and did not appear inclined to remove it anytime soon.
Both of John’s brothers were going to insist on participating in the betrothal discussion.
Listening in through the peephole of John’s study door would be herself and a handful of her female cousins, likely to include several of John and Sophie’s five daughters, and Marigold for certain.
Probably her cousin, Violet, too, since she lived next door to John and Sophie on Chipping Way with her husband, Captain Romulus Brayden.
Marigold and her husband also lived on Chipping Way.
Lord Caruthers, having suddenly reassessed the situation, was livid as he approached her and Davenport. “It is lies! All lies! She was in the garden with me. I am the one she must marry!”
Lady Fullerton strode forward, no doubt seeking to regain control of her party.
“Lord Caruthers, it is well known you are in the desperate hunt of a fortune to save your estates from your own reckless actions. I must say, this is a new low even for you. The hour is late, and it is time for you to leave.”
To make certain the lout gave her no difficulty, Lady Fullerton motioned for two of her burliest footmen to escort him out.
Tulip was worried Caruthers might try something else, although not at this party but at a later time. He had lost out and this should have been the end of it, but the venomous gleam in his eyes warned there was more to come.
Perhaps she was better off marrying Davenport and gaining his protection instead of looking for ways to wriggle out of this coil.
Well, they would discuss this shortly upon returning to John and Sophie’s residence.
If Davenport was willing to marry her, why should she resist?
The prior Davenport dukes had awful reputations, which was of deep concern to her.
But he did not appear to be like them at all.
He was a nice looking man, big and muscled, and that was a heady combination when matched with his intelligence.
Least in importance was his title, but Tulip could not deny the protection gained in becoming his duchess.
If there was fault to be found with Davenport, it was that he kept too much to himself. Yet, he had come to her aid without hesitation. She loved the way he still held her close, quietly positioning himself to keep her safe.
This spoke well of his character, did it not?
“Thank you, Lady Fullerton,” he said, his voice a deep and authoritative rumble, as Caruthers was shown the door. “My sincere apologies for disrupting your party.”