of an exchange of property along with interest in a fleet of merchant vessels, and a townhouse in St. James had all been accepted by the viscount’s father, the Earl of Meade. The Duke of Seabrooke was paying full price for his future beautiful grandchildren. A formal proposal was the only thing missing.
If she allowed the viscount to slip away at this stage, her father might well have an apoplectic fit.
“What are you going to do?” Sanders asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You could run off to Gretna Green with me.”
She was sorely tempted. Sanders truly wanted her, without being bribed with money, lands and houses. Just her . It was comforting to lean into his uncomplicated adoration. But then she thought of the duke.
The need to please her father was stronger than the need to please herself.
“I wish I could.” Florence pulled her hand away. “But I can’t.”
“You wish you could. Well, that’s something, isn’t it?” A flicker of sadness passed behind his eyes, but then Sanders smiled. “Never mind, my lady. We shall have to make sure you end up with the right bridegroom by hook or by crook.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Simply that you present yourself in the parlour by a quarter to midnight and let the swain who meets you there have his way with you. At the stroke of twelve, you’ll be discovered with your lover in flagrante delicto .”
Florence bit her lower lip. “I don’t know.”
“Make this one decision and then all the others will be out of your hands,” he said.
“If it were only that easy. How can I pass myself off as someone else like that?”
“Simple,” Sanders said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’ll be dark. Lie down on the settee and wait. You’re of a size with the girl Edmondstone is supposed to meet. As long as you don’t say a word, how would anyone know it’s you?”
“But it seems so . . . underhanded.”
“It does because it is,” he agreed. “But you have to ask yourself what you want and what you’re willing to do to get it.”
What if I’m not sure what I want? No, she couldn’t admit that to him. Sanders would only try to convince her to elope with him again. A brisk coach ride to Scotland was looking better by the minute.
“Who is the other girl?” she finally asked.
“Telling would only be hurtful to you and I won’t be a party to that,” Sanders said. “Suffice it to say that if you decide to accept this midnight rendezvous, I’ll take care of her. I promise you will be the only lady in the parlour.”
Chapter 9
The duke’s longcase clock chimed the bottom of the hour, so Delphinia rose from the couch in the retiring room and made her way back to the ballroom. Her headache had abated slightly, but she still wished there were fewer candles blazing. She searched the room but didn’t see Tristan anywhere.
He must be on his way to the parlour already.
Her friend Harmony had already worked her way into Lady Bettendorf’s circle. Their gazes met across the room. Harmony smiled and laid a finger along the side of her nose in the time-honored gesture of collusion.
A rush of affection for Harmony flooded Del’s chest. She was the best of friends. Even though Harmony was more than a little shocked by Delphinia’s plans, once she was told she’d get to play a prominent part in this evening’s little drama, Harmony’s misgivings flitted away like cottonwood seeds in springtime. In another few moments, Lady Bettendorf’s party was moving along toward an exit. Harmony had succeeded in steering the gossip and her group into perusing the portraits in the corridor. By midnight, they’d have reached on the second floor heading toward the parlour where an oil painting of the first Duke of Seabrooke was mounted over the fireplace. Harmony would claim she was simply perishing to see it.
Everything was in readiness.
Delphinia had a few more minutes before she needed to start toward the parlour, so she
If she allowed the viscount to slip away at this stage, her father might well have an apoplectic fit.
“What are you going to do?” Sanders asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You could run off to Gretna Green with me.”
She was sorely tempted. Sanders truly wanted her, without being bribed with money, lands and houses. Just her . It was comforting to lean into his uncomplicated adoration. But then she thought of the duke.
The need to please her father was stronger than the need to please herself.
“I wish I could.” Florence pulled her hand away. “But I can’t.”
“You wish you could. Well, that’s something, isn’t it?” A flicker of sadness passed behind his eyes, but then Sanders smiled. “Never mind, my lady. We shall have to make sure you end up with the right bridegroom by hook or by crook.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Simply that you present yourself in the parlour by a quarter to midnight and let the swain who meets you there have his way with you. At the stroke of twelve, you’ll be discovered with your lover in flagrante delicto .”
Florence bit her lower lip. “I don’t know.”
“Make this one decision and then all the others will be out of your hands,” he said.
“If it were only that easy. How can I pass myself off as someone else like that?”
“Simple,” Sanders said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’ll be dark. Lie down on the settee and wait. You’re of a size with the girl Edmondstone is supposed to meet. As long as you don’t say a word, how would anyone know it’s you?”
“But it seems so . . . underhanded.”
“It does because it is,” he agreed. “But you have to ask yourself what you want and what you’re willing to do to get it.”
What if I’m not sure what I want? No, she couldn’t admit that to him. Sanders would only try to convince her to elope with him again. A brisk coach ride to Scotland was looking better by the minute.
“Who is the other girl?” she finally asked.
“Telling would only be hurtful to you and I won’t be a party to that,” Sanders said. “Suffice it to say that if you decide to accept this midnight rendezvous, I’ll take care of her. I promise you will be the only lady in the parlour.”
Chapter 9
The duke’s longcase clock chimed the bottom of the hour, so Delphinia rose from the couch in the retiring room and made her way back to the ballroom. Her headache had abated slightly, but she still wished there were fewer candles blazing. She searched the room but didn’t see Tristan anywhere.
He must be on his way to the parlour already.
Her friend Harmony had already worked her way into Lady Bettendorf’s circle. Their gazes met across the room. Harmony smiled and laid a finger along the side of her nose in the time-honored gesture of collusion.
A rush of affection for Harmony flooded Del’s chest. She was the best of friends. Even though Harmony was more than a little shocked by Delphinia’s plans, once she was told she’d get to play a prominent part in this evening’s little drama, Harmony’s misgivings flitted away like cottonwood seeds in springtime. In another few moments, Lady Bettendorf’s party was moving along toward an exit. Harmony had succeeded in steering the gossip and her group into perusing the portraits in the corridor. By midnight, they’d have reached on the second floor heading toward the parlour where an oil painting of the first Duke of Seabrooke was mounted over the fireplace. Harmony would claim she was simply perishing to see it.
Everything was in readiness.
Delphinia had a few more minutes before she needed to start toward the parlour, so she
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