Chapter Thirty-Four
The evening after the ball, Davenport sat at the head of the table, enthusiastically highlighting the most memorable moments of the night—except for his rendezvous with the widow, of course—for his guests.
“Griffendale was rather brilliant,” Davenport said.
“He dropped onto his knee and asked Josephine to marry him, providing the perfect distraction and ensuring Nicolas won his estate back. Of course, Josephine didn’t have to turn him down so he wasn’t humiliated.
By God, he was a hero for saving day. After all of that madness, you should have heard the applause when he announced their engagement.
Not a single person gave Josephine’s attendance a second thought.
Or if they did, they didn’t have the bollocks to say something in front of Griffendale or Lady Siddons.
They were much too busy celebrating exactly what the duke told them to celebrate. ”
Just this once, Nicolas would rejoice in the fact that people of his class could be brainless sheep.
“See, I told you my reputation wasn’t in danger,” Agatha said. “And please watch your language in front of the ladies.”
The females seated at the table sniggered.
Davenport stood and dramatically imitated the duke’s booming voice.
“‘May my mate live happily ever after with Josephine Martin, his pretty pugilist standing by his side, instead of planting a facer to his nose.’” The viscount chuckled so hard his shoulders shook.
Once he tempered his laughter, he launched back into his retelling.
“Thereupon, Griffendale lifted his glass, and everyone yelled, ‘Hear. Hear.’”
Grinning, the viscount plopped back onto his seat.
“I would like to add that I did a damn fine job of managing all of the wagers.” He tapped his forehead.
“I have quite the head for numbers. Which is a good thing since my notes aren’t always legible.
” He colored up as if he hadn’t meant to admit his final sentence but quickly composed himself.
“The important thing is, thanks to me—” he waggled his brows—“Nicolas and Josie are to be married two weeks hence.”
Nicolas half-heartedly dismissed Davenport’s hubris with the flick of his wrist, and although Franny clapped with delight, her father scowled.
“So, you see,” Davenport said, “while Nicolas and Josephine were arguing, the widow and I set the entire plan into motion. Obviously, they were attracted to each other from the start. You should have seen them take on that crowd at The Lyon’s Den, working together like finely tuned clock hands. Impressive as hell, I say.”
Bridget’s bottom lip stuck out like it had when they were children and Nicolas and George received bigger biscuits. “Why was I the only one who knew nothing about this wager?”
“Bridget dear,” Agatha said. “The widow stipulated that no one could interfere or tell Nicolas and Josephine what was going on. I do not mean to hurt your feelings, but keeping out of others’ affairs isn’t exactly your forte.”
What an ironic statement coming from a woman who loved to meddle. Although, unlike Bridget, Agatha kept her confidences.
“Not everyone knew,” Franny said. “Papa and I had no idea. So perhaps it was just the ton who knew. Although, I suppose not even all of them were aware. Lydia didn’t seem to have any idea.
Can you imagine your parents being untruthful with you to win a wager?
No amount of wealth seems that important. ”
“I suppose it is about more than blunt,” Nicolas said.
Lydia’s past relationship with him may have had something to do with her father’s behavior.
However, it probably only had a small influence.
“I believe the desire to wager is akin to madness. One needs to win to feel almost intoxicated. I believe that is what my father suffers from. Without much thought, he destroyed his family in the process.”
“I can’t keep track of all those bloody wagers,” Coach Valentine said. “Placing a bet on a fight is much easier. Toffs think they live in a Shakespearean play. My late wife tried to read me those blasted stories.” He feigned a yawn.
“Do not worry, Calder,” Agatha said. “I understand your skepticism, but we all want the best for your girls and your gymnasium.”
Was it Nicolas’s imagination, or did Coach’s scowl soften? And if it had, was it Agatha’s assurance or the fact she was an attractive older woman and he a widowed man?
Egad! Falling in love had turned Nicolas sentimental.
“Coach, don’t be such a crosspatch. Now, you can train me for The Duke’s and Dame’s Mill.
The best part is Griffendale gave me blunt up front.
He is paying me to be his champion whether I win or not, so we don’t have to wait to pay for the building.
Apparently, he’d always planned to give half the money to Nicolas if he won.
He gave me the other half and told me to invest it in the gymnasium.
Now, we can make the downpayment tomorrow.
” Josie frowned. “I suppose ’tis back to beef broth, eggs, and plain porridge. ”
“And oranges.” Nicolas would ensure she had all the oranges she could eat.
Josie’s proclamation seemed to cheer her disgruntled coach. He cast a subtle smile in her direction. “I am proud of you, Jojo.”
“Lady Siddons has asked if she may use the upstairs room at The Silk Knuckles Saloon once a week for a meeting,” Josie said. “She would also like to participate in a class and learn to punch properly.”
“As would I,” Agatha declared.
“Me too,” Bridget said, “But I’ve been saying that for days now, and still, no one has taught me how to knock someone out.”
Josie chuckled. “This coming week, Bridget. I promise. But you are not permitted to walk along the street punching every man you see. I have recently discovered they aren’t all bacon-headed.”
Josie smiled at Nicolas, and he melted into a pile of mushy sentiment.
“Lady Siddons invited Isabelle and me to attend the meetings,” Bridget said.
“You girls shall fit in nicely,” Agatha said. “And Franny and Josephine, of course, we hope you will attend.”
“Even though we are not aristocrats?” Josie asked.
“Your husband will someday be the Earl of Shiredale.” Agatha waggled her finger at Nicolas. “Do not think your employment means you are not one of us. And Josephine and Franny, the two of you will be successful businesswomen, which we will need for our cause.”
Coach squirmed in his seat.
“What cause is that, Mother?” Davenport asked.
Agatha picked up her glass and sipped her wine.
Bridget’s eyes twinkled. She opened her mouth, then quickly clamped her lips together. Nicolas knew without a doubt that his sister wanted to know what this cause was, but she was trying to appear patient after being told she was too nosey.
“Nicolas and Josie invited me to move into their townhouse with them,” Bridget said. “I do not have to return with the estate manager Nicolas is sending to Blue Cliff Manor to look after our parents. I am highly pleased because I love London.”
“You can visit Greenpark House anytime,” Agatha said. “You all can. Including you, Calder. I shall be lonely without company.”
Coach stared at his plate. “Or, my lady, you can visit us at The Silk Knuckles Saloon. I know my girls. They will want you there all of the time.” His cheeks scarlet, he lifted his gaze to meet the dowager viscountess’s kind eyes.
Clearing his throat, Davenport shot Coach with eye daggers sharp enough to pierce the bravest man’s resolve. “Shall we retire to the drawing room?” A bit protective of his mother, perchance? Nicolas held back a chuckle.
The party was preparing to change chambers when Peters entered the dining parlor, strolled to Davenport, and dutifully waited to be addressed.
“What is it, Peters?” Davenport asked.
“Sir, we have a visitor. She is wearing her black veil and is accompanied by two large men. Should I tell her you are entertaining and ask her to return tomorrow?”
“That is a poor idea,” Davenport said. “You do not want to upset that woman. Not unless you want to spend the next month of your life forced to do her bidding, which might include playing matchmaker to some unlikely couple. I, for one, have had my fill. ’Tis much too exhausting to ever do again.
” Davenport smiled at Josie and then Nicolas.
“Bessie is a dear friend,” Agatha said. “So please show her to the drawing room.”
“Dear friend?” Josie and Nicolas asked at the same time. How in the devil had Nicolas not known the two women had a history?
“Mother, I didn’t know you socialized with the Widow of Whitehall,” Davenport said.
“Why do you think she sent Josephine to me?” Agatha raised her hand and waited until she had everyone’s attention before speaking. “Ladies, listen up. Gentlemen, cover your ears if you are easily offended by strong females.”
Everyone leaned forward, anxiously awaiting Lady Davenport’s wise words.
“All women, no matter their station at birth, color, religion, or personal beliefs, must stick together because changes are coming,” the dowager viscountess conspiratorially whispered. “Yes, indeed. Changes are coming.”
Bessie Dove-Lyon, the woman sitting on the settee with her hands crossed on her lap painted a foreboding picture, as her black veil hid her expression and two large men stood guard behind her.
Nicolas reminded himself that she was not his enemy.
She’d already indicated that her plan was to ensure that he, not his father, owned Blue Cliff Manor.
“I heard rumors about your brother’s tragic death, so when your father used your family seat as collateral, I looked into your reputation,” Bessie said.
“I do not approve of men destroying their families to pay for their sins. And then I remembered that years ago, Agatha mentioned her fondness for you. I invited you to the Lyon’s Den with every intention of deeding the estate to you while also using you to make a suitable match for one of my clients.
Two birds with one stone, you see. But the moment I saw you and Josephine together, I knew she was your match.
Imagine my luck when she foolishly asked me to make a match between her and the duke.
Jealous men are quite malleable.” The widow chuckled.
“Of course, the duke will require more than the greatest matchmaker in London to tame him, but that is for another time. Back to the point, Josephine’s impulsive request was perfect because it provided me a way to force you to spend time together. ”
Looking as if there were a renegade bee in her skirt, Josie shifted uncomfortably.
“I knew that Josephine could rekindle the joy that your miserable father and ex-fiancée had siphoned from you. And, Josephine, you, my dear, are everything I admire in a female, but you need to temper your attitude and learn to relate better to others if you are to have a successful business. I knew Nicolas was the man to calm your wild side without stripping your spirit.”
Davenport ran a hand across his brow to wipe away invisible sweat. “They are both so bloody stubborn.”
“Precisely,” the widow declared. “Which was why they could not know what we were up to. Had either of them discovered our plan, they would have refused to participate. They’d have fought their attraction to each other even more vehemently.”
“You do not need to talk about us as if we aren’t in the room,” Josie said in what he’d come to privately call her “snarly” voice.
Damnations, Nicolas loved how fierce Josie was and her stubborn nature made him want to kiss her until she was molten compliance.
“Nicolas, please come around to The Lyon’s Den tomorrow. My solicitor has drawn up the papers for Blue Cliff Manor.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dove-Lyon,” Nicolas said. “I understand your motivation for everything, and I appreciate it more than I will ever be able to articulate.”
“I shall look forward to reading your column,” she said. “For now, I suppose my work here is done. Unless…” Her veil did not hide the way that she gazed at each person in the room.
When her head shifted in Davenport’s direction, he shielded his heart with his palms. “Hell, no. And in case you didn’t hear me, let me say it again. Hell, no!”
The widow slid her gaze to Franny and halted there for a very long time before ominously saying, “Frances Valentine?”
“Oh, no,” Franny said. “I am happy Josie found true love, but I do not intend to ever marry.”
“We shall see about that.” Chuckling, the widow strolled from the room, her Wolf Pack behind her. Her final exclamation, “we shall see,” echoed long after her departure.