Romancing Lord Ramsbury Page 2

Irritation welled up inside Grace, her entire body tightening. “I most certainly am. But I simply refuse to romance Mr. Harrison. He is yours.”

  Harriett gritted her teeth. “He is not mine.”

  “One day he will be.”

  “Grace!” Harriett released a long breath through her nostrils, straightening her posture. “Very well, if you will not accept my challenge, then I extend a different one. After all, wooing Mr. Harrison would be all too easy for an expert.”

  Grace’s heart pounded in anticipation, and her feet bounced within her slippers. She never could resist a challenge. “What is it?”

  Her sister pressed her lips together, amusement striking her eyes. “Let us make it a wager.”

  “A wager? I don’t think Papa would approve.” Grace strived to please her parents, to always respect their wishes. Her father rarely noticed her efforts, but she extended them all the same. The only wish of her mother that Grace remotely rebelled against was her reading habits. How could she abandon the stories that thrilled and enlightened and so thoroughly entertained her? She chewed on her lower lip in hesitation.

  “Papa will not know of our wager.” Harriett’s eyebrow lifted along with her mischievous smile.

  Grace fidgeted with the lace of her skirts. “You must tell me what it is before I will agree to it.” She did not like the devious twinkle in her sister’s eye.

  “Lord Ramsbury,” Harriett said.

  The name crawled over Grace’s skin, deepening her scowl. “What of him?”

  Her sister leaned forward, lowering her voice. “If you can manage to woo Lord Ramsbury into a proposal, I will believe you are indeed an expert in love, and I will trust your counsel to court Mr. Harrison.”

  Grace gasped, pulling away. “I would never marry Lord Ramsbury!”

  “I did not say you had to marry him, only coerce him into a proposal.” Harriett’s smile, broad and wicked, showed that she felt the odds were in her favor. “No doubt he has dozens of women seeking his hand. It would indeed require an expert to catch his eye.”

  The idea sat heavy and sharp in Grace’s stomach, filling her with dread. She could never face Lord Ramsbury again. And she could certainly not romance him.

  “If you are successful,” Harriett said, “I will surrender all my pin money to you for the next three months, and agree to court Mr. Harrison. I will even declare to Mama that your reading should be condoned, giving you full responsibility for the match. But if you fail, you will give me your pin money and never mention Mr. Harrison again.”

  Grace narrowed her eyes. “I see you have great confidence in me. You would never offer your own pin money if you had even the slightest fear of losing it.”

  Harriett gave a loud laugh.

  Grace’s breath came quickly, catching in her chest like fire. She had never put into practice the advice she so readily gave to her sister. How could she succeed? Why would a man like Lord Ramsbury pay her any notice? He had once before, but it had been a game, a trap. He had used her young heart like a plaything, cruel and unforgiving.

  A thought struck her. But if she could manage to win his proposal, she could have the pleasure of offering him the rejection he unwittingly gave her three years before.

  A slow smile touched Grace’s lips. Aside from being well-read on the subject of courtship and romance, she was also well-read on the subject of revenge.

  “Do you agree to the terms?” Harriett stepped forward, propping her parasol over one shoulder.

  “Not quite.” Grace’s mind spun. “This is a great feat you ask of me. Your return must be equal and fair. In your courtship with William, you must agree to a minimum of three meetings with him, should his attachment extend that far, which I believe it shall.”

  Harriett considered it for the briefest moment. It seemed she wasn’t worried at all that she might lose. “Very well. Three.”

  Extending her hand, Grace gave her sister a confident smile, though she didn’t feel it. “I believe this is what men of business do when sealing a bargain.”

  Harriett gave Grace’s hand a quick shake, grinning in premature triumph. Grace hoped her sister couldn’t feel how much her hand shook.

  What had she done?

  “Hmm,” Harriett mused as they walked toward the back door of the house. “What shall I buy with my abundance of pin money? A new pair of slippers? Perhaps a new shawl or ballgown?”

  “It would be unwise to already plan your purchases.” Grace squared her shoulders, willing herself to appear confident.

  But inside she was quite the opposite.

  The very thought of approaching Lord Ramsbury had her stomach in knots. But she had never been one to countenance the act of giving up. She liked a challenge, and she didn’t appreciate her abilities being doubted. Her insides writhed and twisted like a den of snakes, constricting her lungs until she couldn’t breathe. There had been something about Harriett’s smirk that had led Grace to agree so hastily to the wager.

  “You do realize that in order to woo Lord Ramsbury you will have to pretend to like him.” Harriett giggled, turning her face away from the house. “To do so will feed his arrogance. I expect you will surrender your efforts the moment you begin, for how will you tolerate flattering him?”

  Grace bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut in regret. When she opened them, she found Harriett facing her once again, her face shrouded in sunlight. For a moment she looked angelic, a halo of light surrounding her pale hair and ivory dress. But her smirk contradicted the picture.

  With a resolute tone, Grace said, “I will tolerate it because I know that when he does propose, I will have the privilege of denying him.” She felt the memory of those four hopeful months, three years ago, when she had fancied herself in love with him. She had been certain he had returned her affection, and that he would soon call upon her to begin their courtship.

  Then came his careless hands, snapping her young heart into fragments.

  “Lord Ramsbury has broken many hearts and rejected many women,” Grace continued, “yet I severely doubt he has experienced the same. How could he have? Perhaps if he learns how it feels he will be more careful.”

  Harriett’s giggling did not lessen for a moment. She pressed one hand to her stomach, tears pooling in her eyes.

  “What is so humorous?” Grace snapped.

  “I’m imagining you attempting to flatter Lord Ramsbury.” She swiped at her lashes, picking up the moisture there as she laughed. Harriett’s imaginings came rarely, and when they did, they were often of disagreeable things.

  “I suspect you will be offering me no such flattery.” Grace let out a long puff of air, tipping her neck in a circle to stretch it. She shook her arms at her sides, trying to gather a bit of fortitude.

  “Shall we try to find him now?” Harriet asked. “I assume he will be in the assembly rooms. I have not visited for months, but when I did, he seemed as if he spent the majority of his life there.”

  Grace gave her sister a look of dismay. “We mustn’t go now. I have not had time to prepare.”

  “There is no better time. An expert would not require intense preparation.”

  Fear tightened in Grace’s chest, her pride flaring. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t do this. Lord Ramsbury would simply toss her aside all over again before she had a chance to try. Harriett would win, and Grace would be penniless for three months.

  Harriett would win.

  If there was anything Grace could not tolerate it was that.

  “Very well. We shall go this very instant,” she said, regretting the words the moment they passed her lips.

  Harriett clapped her hands, a bright smile spreading over her mouth. “I’ll fetch my pink bonnet.”

  “What is wrong with the one you have now?”

  Harriett grinned, pulling at the ribbons under her chin to untie them. “Because this one is for you. The blue provides a needed contrast to your brown eyes and hair.” She placed it on Grace’s head, stepping back to admire her
work.

  “Why are you helping me? You cannot possibly wish me success in our wager.”

  Harriett laughed. “I do not think my assistance will make a difference. That man is never proposing marriage.”

  Grace tightened her jaw as her sister tied the ribbons of the bonnet securely under her chin.

  She would see about that.

  Chapter 2

  As the eldest son of the Earl of Coventry, Edward Beaumont had been given the courtesy title of Lord Ramsbury. But with his father afflicted with consumption, the public eagerly awaited the day he would become the new Lord Coventry.

  Unless that day never came.

  “You are disinheriting me?” Edward said in shock. His father’s words struggled to sink into his mind. He had taken far too many glasses of brandy the night before, followed by far too many glasses of port. He hadn’t meant to gamble away a tenth of the Coventry fortune in a game of cards.

  He hadn’t meant to do a lot of insensible things of late.

  “For the third time, yes, Edward, I am disinheriting you.” His father’s stern voice sliced through his foggy mind. Edward’s eyes adjusted to his surroundings, focusing on his father’s gray hair and piercing blue eyes, reclined on his bed with a scowl.

  Edward did not need to ask for clarification again. He fully understood the news his father had just delivered to him. His chest constricted with regret and anger, stirring up feelings of betrayal in his heart. He leaned forward on the chair beside his father’s bed, his jaw clenching. “But the law requires that I assume the earldom upon your death. Surely you cannot surpass the laws of primogeniture without a great fight.”

  “I have been speaking with my solicitor, and we have worked through the legalities.” His father drew a strenuous breath into his lungs. “Your disinheritance is very achievable in our family’s situation, and has become even more desirable since your recent gamble. Henry will be assuming my title and the bulk of the fortune, not you.”

  Why had Edward thought it wise to place a wager on their fortune? If he hadn’t gone to the deuced gaming hall in London he never would have found himself lacking the inheritance he had planned for his entire life. To see his younger brother Henry taking his place would be insufferable.

  “Father, please forgive me for what I have done. I promise never to gamble again. Give me an opportunity to redeem my sin.”

  “It is not just this one folly that has made my decision,” his father said in a harsh voice. “You have come to rely heavily on drink, and your behavior in society has been noted as disreputable. You are losing the favor of the public eye. You are disgracing the Beaumont name, as well as my title. You do not deserve it.”

  Despair crashed over Edward’s shoulders, and he felt as if he were sinking into his chair. He had worked hard to preserve his public appearance amid the turmoil that he had been feeling for almost a year. He had met a woman, Miss Amelia Buxton, the previous summer. For the first time in his life he could imagine himself marrying, abandoning the life of a bachelor. The blasted woman had stolen his heart with the sole intent to gain information from him—information sought by the man she truly loved.

  Edward had proposed to her, and she had rejected him. He was still feeling the effects of her rejection and deceit. He had kept the rejection hidden well from society, and had even tried to hide the effects of the rejection from himself, washing them away with brandy and sinful games. But it didn’t work.

  He had been sinking, slowly and steadily into a deep hole, and he didn’t know how to escape. If his father disinherited him, the public would make even more assumptions about his character. They would question the charming persona he had perfected. His life would be even more disfigured than it already was.

  “Give me a chance to redeem my sins.” Edward begged his father with his eyes. “I will change. This inheritance is all I have.”

  “Had,” his father corrected. “My decision has been made. Your mother is in agreement with my choice.”

  The feeling of betrayal dug deeper, twisting in Edward’s stomach like a dull arrow. He would have suspected such betrayal from his father but never his mother. Lady Coventry doted on her children, but her gentleness had done little to tame her husband. His father had never cared for him, nor paid him a drop of attention. He only cared for himself, for his own designs and interests.

  “Mother would never readily agree to such a drastic change,” Edward said, unable to believe it.

  His father grunted as he shifted his position under the blankets. “She did not agree readily,” he sighed, “but the decision is not hers to make. It is her belief that you need only marry and your wife will somehow transform you into a genteel man. She wished for you to marry long ago. You could have, if only you had the decorum to settle for one woman.”

  “I did.” Edward’s eyes narrowed. “Last summer. And she declined my offer.”

  His father’s eyebrows rose, becoming lost in the hair that splayed over his forehead. “Why did I not hear of this before?”

  “I don’t like speaking of it.”

  His father shrugged. “I’m not surprised. Your pride took a hit.”

  “My heart took a hit.”

  “Would you be willing to try again?”

  Edward frowned. “She is married now.”

  His father shook his head, his eyes never leaving his son’s face. “Not the same woman. Try to find a different woman you could marry.”

  Edward gave a hard laugh, cringing at the way it pounded through his aching skull. “I don’t wish to marry a different woman. And what woman would want me without my inheritance?”

  “You might keep your inheritance.”

  “What?” Edward wondered if his father’s disease had reached his brain. “You just declared your decision to be final.”

  His father rubbed his chin, the sparse whiskers spreading between his fingers. “I will give you one more chance to keep your inheritance. But you will not like my stipulation.” Edward guessed his father’s words before he spoke them. “If you can manage to find a wife before I pass on, I will keep you as my heir. It will please your mother very much, and it is my greatest wish that she be happy after my death.”

  Edward eyed his father warily. The earl’s dire condition had been progressing slowly over the last year, and in recent months had rendered him bedridden. He was only months from death, if not weeks. It wasn’t that Edward lacked confidence—It wouldn’t be difficult to find a woman willing to marry him. He had mothers and daughters lined up by the dozens in Brighton that wanted him—or rather—that wanted his fortune and the honor of his title. But he lacked the desire to marry. If he wished, he could find a woman willing to enter an engagement within a week and get the matter over with. The thought left him empty and numb inside. Did he have any other choice? If he refused he would be left with nothing.

  “Fine. I will do it.”

  His father’s eyes widened, as if surprised by his son’s prompt reply.

  “It will be simple,” Edward said. “I’ll be married before your death, I assure you. Engaged within a week.”

  His father puzzled over his words, a pained look in his expression. “There is no need to make such great haste with the endeavor. I will likely live longer than that.”

  “I will be efficient.”

  His father raised a scolding eyebrow. “But you must ensure you love the woman you choose.” For such a stony man, his father’s belief in true love was comical.

  Edward stood, his arms tense at his sides. “I would rather keep my emotions uninvited. Much like the method you used in disinheriting me.”

  “Edward—”

  “Good day, Father.”

  Turning on his heel, Edward moved to the door, exiting into the wide hallway of Clemsworth. His head pounded with a persistent headache, thwarting his balance as he moved toward the ballroom, where he knew his brother to be practicing his fencing. His mind spun as the realization of what he had just done crashed over him.

>   As he came closer to the ballroom, the usual sound of clashing metal reached his ears. He pushed open the double doors, slouching against the nearby wall until his brother noticed him.

  Henry lowered his epee, lifting his mask onto his head, spilling his blond curls onto his forehead. “Edward.” Henry’s smile faltered. He muttered something to the friend with whom he had been practicing, Mr. Brooks. Without a moment of hesitation, Mr. Brooks exited the ballroom, throwing Edward a quick nod as he passed.

  “When did you plan to tell me that father meant to disinherit me?” Edward pushed back from the wall as the ballroom doors swung shut behind Mr. Brooks. “You might have warned me.”

  Henry’s eyes, the same sharp blue as his father’s, rounded. “Father meant to disinherit you?”

  Edward frowned with impatience. “Do not pretend you didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t, Edward. Upon my word.” Henry rested his hand at his waist, his breathing still heavy from his fencing. “How did he manage to do it? The law is firm in the matter.”

  “Are you going to ask why he wished to disinherit me?”

  Henry raised one eyebrow. “It’s quite obvious. You did lose a tenth of the fortune in a game of cards. But surely he offered you a chance for redemption.”

  Edward studied his brother. The two were as opposite as any brothers could be. Henry clung to anything honorable, fulfilling every duty without question. If there were ever a decision to be made between right and wrong, he chose right, no matter the consequence to himself. His conscience had never been able to endure guilt, and his heart had never been able to choose hatred over love. In Edward’s opinion, Henry loved too easily. Henry loved their father, despite his disinterest in his children for all their lives.

  “He will only keep me as his heir if I find a wife before his death,” Edward said, running his hand over his hair. He exhaled, long and slow. “It is not the ideal situation, but it will not be a problem. I shall find one before the end of the week.”

  Henry’s jaw dropped. “That is very… efficient.”

  “Precisely.”