Chapter Nine
The Lyon’s Den, Whitehall, London
One in the afternoon
Timothy stared at the three people before him, frozen, until Elspeth swayed by his side. “No!” he whispered, putting his arm around her waist to steady her. “Do not give in.”
Instantly Sinclair was behind Elspeth with a chair she had snagged from somewhere, and together they eased her down as she grabbed shallow, short breaths.
“Breathe deeply. Long, slow, deep.”
She nodded, glancing up at him from under lashes wet with tears.
He straightened, then bowed at the couple. From her reaction, Timothy assumed these were Elspeth’s parents, although he had never met either of them.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon took the lead. “Lord Inmarsh, Lady Inmarsh, may I present Lord Timothy Rydell, brother of the Duke of Embleton.”
Timothy bowed again, unsure of the etiquette of such a situation. After all, how often does one meet an earl when one has just won his daughter in a flower competition?
He should not have worried.
“Oh, I know all too well who he is.” The earl’s deep baritone boomed off the walls. “Youngest brother of eleven!” He spit the number as if it were some vulgarity. “No future, no prospects, who seeks to ruin my daughter and my family.”
Timothy’s eyebrows arched, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s unnervingly calm voice sounded first.
“I am afraid, Lord Inmarsh, that you have been regrettably misinformed.”
Lord Inmarsh’s face reddened, but his wife placed a hand on his arm. “Liam.”
“She is already betrothed!”
Beside him, Elspeth shot up. “I am not! The contracts are not signed, and the banns have not been read. No one outside the family even knows about it!”
Sinclair sniffed but kept still.
Timothy stared at Elspeth, astonishment turning into something stronger, more enthralling.
The tears had been wiped away, and her lips formed a firm, bright-red line as her green eyes flashed.
His gut tightened, and his heart thumped, and he wondered if this was how Gordon felt when he looked at Ella.
“I gave my word!”
“Without my agreement!”
“I do not need your agreement!”
The two stepped toward each other, but, again, Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s even words cut through the conversation.
“Lord Timothy, what was your annual income in 1819?”
He answered without hesitation. It was a figure that had been on the tip of his tongue since Mrs. Dove-Lyon had presented him with the proposal for this mad deal. “Twelve thousand pounds.”
The room fell silent, except for a tiny squeak from the countess. “Oh, my.”
The earl’s face grew even redder. “Impossible. You are the youngest son. It is not possible that Embleton has that kind of fortune to bestow on you.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon sniffed. “For the past six years, Lord Timothy has been under the tutelage of Sir Gordon Rydell, his cousin—”
“And friend.”
They all looked at him. Timothy shrugged one shoulder. “Well. He is.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon cleared her throat. “Lord Timothy has acted as Sir Gordon’s assistant, and he has invested heavily in all of Sir Gordon’s businesses.
He has traveled widely to expand those enterprises and even purchased a few of his own.
Those efforts have become lucrative, and his income has increased every year for the past three years.
It also shows signs of continuing to do so.
He has a broader base and far more promise than Viscount Godwin, with the ability to aid you in your current financial difficulties and more than adequately support your daughter in her lifestyle and her goals. ”
Timothy’s brow furrowed. He did not understand how this woman knew so much about his business, but he did not feel as if now were the moment to mention that.
Apparently the earl wondered the same, with less reluctance to voice it. “How can you possibly know any of this?”
Elspeth’s voice turned low and gravelly. “Because Mrs. Dove-Lyon knows everything about everyone in London Society. If you had paid any attention to what actually happens in your own household, you would have known that. And you challenge her at your peril.”
“Elspeth!” The countess snapped, the one word carrying more warning than her father had expressed so far.
Elspeth shook her head. “Mother, you know it is true.” She looked at the earl.
“Father, I love you, but you have spent too much of your time behind your newspapers or in the club or in Parliament. You know how government works but not the world. You know Society’s dictates but not how they are changing.
You only want to see things as how you want them to be, not how they really and truly are.
” As the color left from the earl’s face, Elspeth took a deep breath.
“It is why our money has begun to drain away. And you know this, even if you cannot admit it.”
Silence. They all stared at her. Even Mrs. Dove-Lyon, whose true expression remained masked behind the veil, tilted her head as if studying Elspeth.
Then she spoke. “Lady Elspeth, how did you feel after meeting Lord Timothy on the Falmouth docks six years ago?”
The earl coughed. “What?”
Elspeth gave a sweet smile, peering up at Timothy. “I think I fell in love in that very moment.”
Timothy’s mouth gaped. “We were barely together ten minutes. And I was a fool who fell into the water!”
She shook her head. “You were kind. And curious. You wanted to travel. Mother has always said it does not take long, when you are truly suited.”
The countess touched her husband’s arm. “I believe it took even less time for me to know.”
Elspeth grinned. “And you have no idea how Ella had been singing your praises. She has ever since, in almost every letter.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon nodded. “Indeed. And you, my dear, are not the only one who received a packet of letters from our sweet Eleanor via Lord Timothy.”
The recognition slid over Timothy like a cold shower. He looked at their masked hostess. “Eleanor. Ella. She arranged all of this, did she not?”
Another nod. “She did. And not because of the viscount, although that sudden predicament put a rush on things. Ella has been writing me for years about the two of you, how suited you were for each other, asking for my aid. I believe she has also been in touch with your mother.”
“My mother?”
“Have you not yourself wondered why your mother was on such a campaign to get you home this season?”
Timothy laughed. “She said it was for the coronation events.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, the coronation will never take place this year.”
The earl scowled. “You cannot know that.”
The countess sighed. “Oh, Liam. Every woman in Society knows how the king feels about his wife. He would cut off his own nose if it meant preventing her from being queen. Postponing a coronation is child’s play for a man that spiteful.
” Her words dropped to a whisper. “You need to listen to more gossip, less politics.”
The earl looked around the room, pausing on each face. He swallowed. “It appears I am routed.” He looked at his wife. “Are you ready for the scandal?”
She touched his cheek. “I am ready for a season in the country.”
He turned to Elspeth. “I will speak with the viscount when he returns. Are you ready for the direct cuts from the Society mavens?”
Elspeth slipped a hand around Timothy’s arm. “I am ready for a season in America.”
He addressed Timothy. “Sir, I acquiesce. If you will call on me at Inmarsh House tomorrow at ten, I will be ready to discuss the contracts with my solicitor. Do you have one you wish to bring?”
“I will bring my brother, Matthew, and his solicitor.”
“The duke.”
“Yes.” He stepped closer to the earl. “Sir, you may not believe this, but I wish to do this properly from this moment forth. And I promise I will do everything in my power to see to your daughter’s health and happiness.”
“See that you do. Because I am assured that if you do not, Ella will inform all of us, and you will have half of London down on your head.”
Timothy smiled, then turned and reached for Elspeth’s hand. “I believe, however, that if I act in any way untoward to her, Lady Elspeth can well take care of the matter herself.”
“And that,” whispered the countess, “is why they are well suited.”