CHAPTER FOUR
“Really, Aunt Mildred. Must you?”
“Yes, Clayton, I must.”
Clayton glared at his aunt, and when he realized he was glaring he smoothed his expression to one of benign amusement.
It was a weighty chore to guide her down the proper path, but she was a woman, and it wasn’t natural for her to have her own fortune or to live independently. His deceased father had wasted his life showing her the error of her ways, but she’d refused his wise counsel.
Clayton was determined to have more success than his father had had. After all, the money she was frivolously spending was his money. Or it would be his after she passed away. It wasn’t appropriate that his grandfather had been so generous with her. The old codger had had two children and upon his death, he’d treated them equally in their inheritances.
But who had ever heard of a father evenly dividing an estate between a son and a daughter? Clayton wondered if his grandfather hadn’t been a tad senile, but Mildred claimed he’d been wracked with guilt and atoning for the sins he’d committed against her. Yet Mildred was the one who’d committed all the sins. Why should she have been rewarded for it?
“You could stay with me all summer,” he said.
“I could, Clayton,” she maddeningly replied, “but I won’t. I always travel to Bath and remain there until the end of September. I can’t abide your nagging. Please stop.”
“When you can tarry here for free, it’s such a silly expense. I’ve instituted numerous changes so you’ll be more comfortable.”
“I appreciate it.”
“You make me feel as if it was pointless to have implemented the upgrades.”
“It’s never pointless to improve your home.”
They were in the dining parlor eating breakfast together, and luckily no other guests had stumbled down. Mildred rose early so he’d dragged himself out of bed to guarantee that they would be alone and could chat.
He kept his voice casual. “I see you hired another companion.”
“Yes, Miss Barrington. I’m charmed by her. She’s a Henley. Did you know?”
“No.”
“I only just learned of the connection myself. She and Lady Middlebury are cousins.”
“Mrs. Ford sent her to you?”
“Yes. She’s proficient at providing exactly who I require.”
“Her agency is awfully pricey though, isn’t it?”
“I don’t mind paying for quality.”
“Surely—if you utilized a different company—you could save a few pounds. Would you like me to research it for you? I could find someone just as thorough who doesn’t charge an arm and a leg.”
“Let it go, Clayton.”
“It never hurts to practice economy.”
Mildred had gulped down a mouthful of tea, and his remark caused her to cough and sputter. “You plan to lecture me on thrift, Clayton? Is that it?”
“You never count your pennies, Aunt Mildred.”
“I have plenty of pennies. I don’t have to count them.”
She leveled a particularly caustic glower, and he squirmed as if he were a misbehaved toddler.
“I’m trying to help,” he insisted.
“Your sort of help isn’t necessary.” Appearing totally innocent, she asked, “By the way, there’s furniture missing from the blue bedchamber upstairs. How are your gambling debts?”
He blushed ten shades of red. “I have them completely under control. There’s no need for you to worry about them.”
“Oh, I definitely don’t worry.”
He couldn’t bear how she chided him or how he always fell into her trap. London was a very posh place, and he was a fashionable gentleman. It was difficult to keep up with all the costs. A man was expected to wager and revel. If he didn’t, he’d quickly have no friends.
She didn’t understand how hard it was to be in his position. She puttered along in her spinster’s world, subsisting on a tiny allowance and a handful of servants. Her great extravagance was her carriage and driver, but it was twenty years old.
He couldn’t live as she lived. He had to spend amounts as were equal to his status. Her money was sitting in a trust, and she had a lawyer as the trustee who parceled out the funds. Clayton could distribute an allowance as competently as that stuffy old goat, yet she refused to consider it.
If he could manage her share now, without having to wait for her demise, his pressures would be lessened substantially.
“Don’t pout, Clayton,” she said. “It’s exhausting.”
“You never listen to me,” he complained.
“I would—if you ever offered a comment worth hearing.”
“You’re determined to head to Bath.”
“Of course. How often must I repeat it?”
“The street fair will be held while you’re there.”
“Yes, it will.”
“I suppose you’ll visit the gypsy fortunetellers. You’ll have your palms read and your future told.”
“Yes, I will.”
It was the limit for him. He threw down his napkin. “Honestly, Aunt Mildred, what if people find out about your obsession?”
“Why would I care if they find out?”
“It’s unseemly, superstitious rot. It has me wondering about your mental faculties.”
“My faculties are fine, and it’s merely fun and games. Don’t be such a fusspot.”
“It’s not fun or games with you,” he fumed. “Don’t pretend.”
“It makes me happy. What’s wrong with that? You should try it. Happiness can take you far in this miserable life.”
“There are more important things than being happy.”
“I can’t think of what they might be.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “Thank you for getting up to eat breakfast with me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I realize you hate to be up so early. It’s always a pleasure to pass a few private minutes with you.”
She patted him on the shoulder and strolled out, and he stayed in his chair, seething over many perceived slights.
When she spoke, she stared him right in the eye, and she was always—well, usually—cordial and friendly, but there was often a hint of sarcasm, as if she deemed him a sluggard or a fool. She’d talked to his father the same way, and it was infuriating to tolerate such impertinence from a female family member.
She ought to know better, but then from her past misdeeds, it was clear she didn’t know better. His grandfather had instilled no moral code at all.
When she was eighteen, she’d been betrothed to a very respectable fiancé her father had chosen, but she’d eloped with a secret beau. By the time she’d been caught and dragged home, the damage had been done.
She’d been with child, and Clayton’s grandfather had had to clean up the mess. He’d plotted to have her beau vanish and never return, then he’d locked her in a facility for unwed mothers. Her son had been born and immediately jerked from her arms and put out for adoption. She’d been ruined after that and had never married.
She was besieged by memories of her lost swain and baby, and she consulted with gypsies and others, desperate to learn if they were alive, if she might cross paths with either of them before she died.
For pity’s sake, it had been thirty years, and she was still pining away. Why couldn’t she stop ruminating and move on? Her fixation was embarrassing and inappropriate—and pointless.
Didn’t she grasp he would never let her locate her boy? Clayton was her heir, and he fully expected to inherit the other half of his grandfather’s estate. His aunt could pray and cast spells and confer with mesmerists, but it was all for naught.
Should a man ever appear on Clayton’s horizon and claim to be her son, he really and truly thought he might be driven to homicide. He’d be that incensed about it.
She would travel to Bath and attend the street fair where one gypsy in particular took advantage of her. She showered the cunning oaf with money—Clayton’s money—hoping for news, and the charlatan wasn’t stupid. He recognized a pot of gold when he saw it, and he used words like soon and close by.
Mildred was like an addict in her need to be reassured, and occasionally she seemed quite mad in how fervidly she obsessed.
He decided to write to her dear friend, Winston Winthrop. He was always in Clayton’s same dire fiscal condition and anxious to earn a few pounds in any fashion he could arrange. Clayton paid him to spy on his aunt. Winston could arrive on the spur of the moment, and Mildred would be glad of it, but she’d never figured out that he was watching over her for Clayton.
Winston was her confidante so he was always the first to discover if she got out of line. Then he’d contact Clayton so Clayton could yank her to her senses.
Yes, Winston had to hurry to Bath where he would act as Mildred’s nanny. Clayton jumped up from his chair and marched to the library to pen a letter and send it out with the morning post.
* * * *
“Where are you from, Mr. Swift?”
“I’m from nowhere and everywhere.”
Nicholas meticulously assessed Mildred Farnsworth. They were in the breakfast parlor, and no other guests had come down so he had her all to himself. He’d specifically sought her out and organized his schedule so he’d catch her alone. She was very rich, and he was always attracted to wealth. She was too old for a flirtation and much too astute to believe any flattery, but that didn’t mean she might not benefit him in other ways.
He was a wastrel and ne’er-do-well, and she was the sort of female who would be charmed by the information. She’d want to assist him. She’d want to save him, and he was happy to let her. But he genuinely liked her too. She was blunt and funny, her wit sharp, her tongue barbed, and she had a keen eye for the absurd.
And he was riveted by any woman whose surname was Farnsworth. The minute he’d met Clayton he’d become intrigued. Clayton was exactly the type of dolt Nicholas liked to befriend. He was imprudent and reckless, and he wasn’t cautious with his money so it was easy to take it from him when he wasn’t looking.
He drank and wagered and shared too many personal stories so it had been a simple matter to find out that he had a spinster aunt. His birthday party had provided the perfect opportunity for an introduction.
“Everyone is from somewhere,” Miss Farnsworth said.
“I was raised in a small village in the country,” he told her, which was true.
“Who is your family?”
“I don’t have one. My father vanished when I was a baby.”
“He died?”
“I don’t know.”
She tutted with dismay. “How scandalous.”
“My mother never remarried or had any other children. She passed away years ago.”
“So you’re an orphan?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have a slew of cousins or uncles to smooth your path?”
“No. There’s just me, wandering the world on my own.”
He studied her blue eyes, and he had to admit that his were very similar. Miss Barrington had claimed—when she’d espied him at the lake—she’d mistaken him for a Farnsworth, and it was a delicious tidbit.
“I don’t suppose you have a fortune,” Miss Farnsworth mused.
“No—to my great regret.”
“You’re a gambler?”
“Yes, and that’s my best quality.”
She snorted with amusement. “At least you’re up front about it.”
“There’s no reason to lie about my profession.”
“Do you gamble because you need the funds? Or are you addicted like so many others?”
“I’m too smart to grow addicted.”
“I imagine you’re a libertine too.”
“Of course.” He grinned. “What else would I be?”
She grinned too. “Heaven help the women who see that smile of yours. You must have them dropping at your feet.”
Sarcastically, he retorted, “It’s a huge burden to be as wonderful as I am.”
“I’ll bet it is.”
“Where is Miss Barrington?” he asked. “Isn’t she your companion? I’d have thought it was her role to hover at your side.”
“She was asleep, and I couldn’t bear to wake her. She’ll stagger in when she’s ready.”
“You’re not eating,” he said. “Aren’t you hungry? You should fill your belly before you flit off on your day’s adventures.”
“I dined with Clayton, but he nagged so ferociously it gave me indigestion. I’m having some tea to settle my stomach. He generates so much bile.”
Nicholas laughed. “You are a character, Miss Farnsworth.”
“I definitely can be.”
“How was your nephew aggravating you? May I inquire as to why? Or is your family’s closet full of skeletons about which I shouldn’t pry?”
“My family’s closet is so full I can barely shut the door.”
She sipped her tea and scrutinized him over the rim of the cup. She was taking his measure, trying to figure out what drove him, but it wasn’t hard to deduce. Money drove him. Not having enough of it drove him. He had no hidden depths.
“I had one sibling,” she told him. “A brother. When my father died, he split his estate between the two of us. My brother was a spendthrift and Clayton an only child. He’d squandered much of Clayton’s inheritance before he perished. I haven’t squandered any of mine. I’ve scarcely dipped into it.”
“It doesn’t surprise me.”
“He’s my heir, and it enrages him if I use a single penny of it to pay my own expenses. He thinks of it as his money.”
“How awfully bold of him.”
“My feeling exactly.”
“I hope you live to be a hundred—just to spite him.”
“That’s my plan.”
“Why are you staring so intently? Is there something you wish to know about me? You can ask me anything. I’ll answer you.”
“What is your opinion of Miss Barrington?”
“She’s exquisite.”
“Isn’t she though? Were you aware that she’s a Henley cousin?”
“Yes, Lady Middlebury mentioned it.”
“Did she clarify how close of a cousin?”
“No.”
“Question Sarah about it. See if she’ll confide in you.”
He raised a brow. “I will—unless you’d like to apprise me yourself?”
“It’s not my secret to share.”
“I’ll pester her about it.”
“I watched the two of you dancing. You’re quite charmed by her.”
“I am charmed. She’s enticed me against my will.”
“You’re such a striking couple. Have you ever considered marrying?”
At the brazen query, he nearly swallowed his tea wrong. “Only to an heiress.”
She sighed. “That’s what I was afraid you’d say, and Sarah is penniless.”
“It’s a sad state for such a beautiful woman.”
“Yes, it is. I’ve decided to work on getting her married this year.”
He grinned again. “You sly dog. I didn’t realize you fancied yourself as a matchmaker. Has she guessed?”
“No, and don’t you tell her.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“In the meantime, it would improve her mood to engage in an innocent flirtation. She’s had some difficulties in the past, and she deserves some fun and excitement.”
He scowled. “Are you suggesting I flirt with her?”
“No, I’m simply commenting that I’d like her to have an enjoyable summer.” She studied him in a way that made him incredibly nervous. “We’re heading to Bath after Clayton’s party is over. I stay until September.”
“How nice,” he blandly replied.
“What are you doing after the party ends?”
“I hadn’t really chosen a destination. My schedule is free.”
Actually, Clayton’s guest, Michael Fenwick, was a wicked charlatan, possessed of all of Nicholas’s worst traits. Nicholas had planned to glom onto the younger man to discover what sorts of mischief they could accomplish together. He thought they could pry a fortune out of somebody.
“I love to have callers,” she said. “If you happen to be in the neighborhood while I’m in Bath, please stop by.”
“I will.”
“I’ll be expecting you.”
She stood and left, and he sat, staring at the spot where she’d been.
It appeared he’d been manipulated in some fashion. He had no desire to dawdle in Bath, and he certainly had no desire to pursue a romance with a destitute lady’s companion.
But Sarah Barrington was a Henley, and Mildred was a Farnsworth. What could it hurt to socialize with both of them? And if he had been manipulated, he was a master at deceit. Whatever game Mildred Farnsworth was playing, she’d never win against him.
It sounded as if he might spend a few weeks in Bath after all.
* * * *
“Hello, Miss Farnsworth.”
“Lady Middlebury.”
Desdemona nodded at Mildred Farnsworth, and she forced a smile, eager to look friendly and approachable, but cordiality was difficult to manage. When she was so exalted, it was exhausting to pretend she cared about the petty little lives of others, but Mildred Farnsworth could serve a valid purpose.
“It’s perfect weather for a morning stroll, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes,” Miss Farnsworth responded.
“What brings you out to the lake? I wouldn’t peg you for a walker or nature enthusiast.”
“There was some nude swimming last night. I’m trying to see if the risqué adventure is being repeated.”
“Nude swimming? My goodness. I can’t imagine Clayton would allow such scandalous antics.”
“Can’t you?”
Desdemona’s cheeks colored, her embarrassment acute, and she had to glance away. She’d been one of the naked women with Nicholas. Normally, she wouldn’t have participated, but she’d had too much to drink, and when she was intoxicated she made bad decisions.
She’d known him for several months and had been dangling an affair, but she couldn’t convince him to proceed.
Being buxom and curvaceous, she’d assumed—if he noted how shapely she was—he might have been goaded into reacting. But her recklessness had been for naught. He was no more interested in her than he had been previously, and in fact he’d focused all of his attention on Sarah.
Desdemona had awakened grouchy and aching. She was itchy and wishing she could relax with her opium pipe, but she’d run out of the delicious drug and hadn’t been able to purchase more before she’d left town.
Hoping she might stumble on Nicholas in the garden, she’d headed to the gazebo, but she couldn’t find him anywhere. Instead, she’d encountered Mildred Farnsworth, which might prove beneficial. As they sauntered toward the manor, she had an important topic to raise.
“I noticed my cousin, Sarah, is working for you,” she casually stated.
“Yes, she is.”
“It’s kind of you to employ her. She’s lucky to have found such a stellar post.”
“I am the one who is lucky,” Miss Farnsworth claimed. “She’s enchanting, and we get on famously.”
“I’m relieved to hear it. She has a sharp tongue so she hasn’t succeeded in her various jobs. She doesn’t have the proper attitude for a servant. She can be extremely bothersome.”
Desdemona had no idea how Sarah performed out in the world, but she disliked all three of the Henley sisters. They were such snobs, and they despised Desdemona for marrying Jasper and stepping into the role of Lady Middlebury. But what did they expect?
Jasper had been next in line after Hayden, and the British laws of inheritance couldn’t be changed just for them. It was time for the Henley sisters to accept the inevitable and move on. Desdemona certainly had.
“She’s not bothersome in the least,” Miss Farnsworth said. “She’s delightful and charming, but then I knew her mother, Margaret. She was amazing, and Sarah is exactly like her. Were you acquainted with Margaret?”
“No, I never had the pleasure.”
“Oh, that’s right. Your husband was a distant cousin.”
Miss Farnsworth’s expression was bland, her voice modulated, but Desdemona recognized an insult when it was hurled directly at her. She and Jasper constantly had to battle the condescension from some of the old families who didn’t feel he should have ascended to the title.
At the moment, she wasn’t about to quarrel over it. Nor would she defend her station. She simply wanted to throw a wrench in Sarah’s future. If she could scuttle Sarah’s posh situation, she’d be thrilled.
“There’s a detail I ought to mention,” she said.
“What is it?” Miss Farnsworth asked.
“Sarah has some odd proclivities. Mostly, she’s a renowned flirt.”
Miss Farnsworth didn’t seem concerned by the revelation. “Is she?”
“Yes, she’s lost other positions because of inappropriate behavior.”
“Really? I hired her through an agency, and I was informed she was their best girl.”
“Perhaps it’s a new agency, and they’re not aware of her history.”
“Perhaps.”
“Anyway, I thought I should warn you that I saw her sneaking off into the garden last night with a gentleman.”
“Would that be Mr. Swift?”
“Ah…yes.”
“I told him I didn’t care.”
“You told him to dally with her? You allowed it?”
“Yes. Sarah is very sensible, and they are such an arresting couple. Their attraction will be difficult to fight. They might as well act on it.”
Desdemona had never heard such a shocking comment. “Miss Farnsworth! Mildred! May I call you Mildred?”
“No, you may not,” Miss Farnsworth curtly snapped. “Now then, you must excuse me, but I’m very busy this morning. I can’t waste more of my time loafing with you and listening to your gossip.”
“My gossip!”
“It’s barely ten o’clock, Lady Middlebury, and I can smell alcohol on your breath. Have you been drinking? Is that why you’ve spoken so contemptuously to me about your cousin?”
“I have not been drinking,” Desdemona huffed, even though she’d already had three glasses of whiskey to calm her shaking hands. “Madam, I assure you that liquor has no bearing on my remarks.”
“Shall we bet on it?”
“I know what Sarah is like,” Desdemona insisted, “and it’s astounding to me that you would employ a person of such low character. She’s a flirt! She’s openly flirting with Mr. Swift! Why aren’t you upset about it?”
“I like females with spirit, which she has in spades. Good day to you, Countess.”
She imbued the word countess with an enormous amount of disdain, as if Desdemona didn’t deserve the title. Then she rushed off to the manor.
Desdemona stood on the path, watching as she climbed to the verandah and went inside. It occurred to her that she might have been too adamant about Nicholas. Maybe she shouldn’t have named him as the culprit.
“Stupid witch,” she muttered.
She presumed she’d figured out how to ruin Sarah to Miss Farnsworth, but she hadn’t succeeded. Desdemona was an aristocrat’s wife! Everyone heeded her. Mildred Farnsworth was a pompous cow who had never been taught to respect her betters.
Well, there were other ways to get even with the old crone. If she was so in love with Sarah, Desdemona would be even more determined to destroy her cousin.
Sarah could not be permitted to tarry at Clayton’s party for the entire week. Desdemona intended to have Nicholas all to herself so that, by the end of the gathering, he’d be completely ensnared. Sarah would be a temptation and a distraction.
What was the quickest route to be shed of her?
She decided to return to her room and have a few more whiskeys to clear her mind. Without too much effort, she’d devise a viable plan.
* * * *
Sarah had slept late, and she was embarrassed to have proven herself a sluggard. She felt as if she was failing Mildred by taking advantage of her pleasant nature. She was crossing the front foyer and headed for the breakfast parlor when Mildred stomped in from the rear of the house.
“Good morning, dear,” Mildred said in greeting. “How are you?”
“I’m becoming a sloth.” As Mildred neared, Sarah saw her color was high, her expression cloudy, and Sarah asked, “Are you all right? You look angry.”
“I’ve been up for little more than two hours, and I have been scolded by my nephew and insulted by your cousin.”
“I’m so sorry to hear it.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”
“I hope you won’t let them spoil your day.”
“They already have so we’re leaving for Bath.”
“Now?”
“Yes. I’ll find the housekeeper and get the maids busy with packing our things. Have you eaten?”
“No, I was just about to.”
Mildred waved her on. “Fill your tummy, then meet me upstairs. And don’t hurry. The maids here aren’t that competent, but I’m positive they can pack a bag without you hovering. Enjoy your breakfast.”
“Are you certain we should go? I hate to have them chase you away.”
“They’re not chasing me off. I simply refuse to tolerate miserable people. I had too much of that sort of vitriol when I was a girl. We’ll be much happier in Bath.”
Mildred continued on, and Sarah went in the other direction. It wasn’t up to her to pick when they left, but she’d been expecting to sneak off with Mr. Swift a few more times.
She was confused as to why she’d permitted him to lead her out into the dark garden, but their stirring kisses had her breathless with anticipation. She was contemplating all sorts of naughty behaviors so it was lucky she was prudent and not prone to reckless conduct. Otherwise, she couldn’t predict what she might have allowed in the future.
She and Mildred would depart, and she’d probably never cross paths with him again so she’d like a chance to say goodbye. How could she arrange it?
She arrived at the dining room, and as she stepped inside he was standing there—as if he’d been waiting for her. He was casually dressed: tan trousers, knee-high black boots, a flowing white shirt. It was unbuttoned to expose a bit of his spectacular chest, and the sleeves were rolled to reveal his muscular forearms.
On seeing him, her pulse raced. She was that smitten.
They paused, a wonderful sense of excitement in the air. Then he reached around her to close the door so they were alone. Before she could utter a word, he was kissing her like a fiend. She didn’t hesitate, but pulled him to her, their bodies crushed together in a way that made her moan with pleasure.
He backed her up to the wall, and he gripped her thighs and lifted her off the floor. Her skirt was rucked up, and she was balanced on his thighs, their loins pressed tight.
It was the most scandalous, delicious thing that had ever happened to her, and she didn’t worry about her raucous participation. Shortly, they would part, and she was determined to remember every detail about him.
But as abruptly as the embrace began, it ended. Behind them, the servant’s door was opening, a servant about to enter the room. He nimbly set her on her feet and shifted away, but he was holding her hand.
A footman bustled in and put a tray of muffins on the sideboard. Mr. Swift didn’t turn to acknowledge him, but kept his hot gaze focused on Sarah. If she lived to be a hundred, it was a look she’d never forget. It promised passion and devotion and adventure, and she could have dawdled forever, basking in the glow of his searing attention.
“Can I get you anything special, Mr. Swift?” the footman asked.
“No, we’re fine. That will be all.”
The footman was no idiot. He had to have noticed he’d interrupted a salacious scene. He scurried out, and they were alone again.
For a moment, they were silent, stunned by their ardent connection. There were sparks shooting between them, almost as if they might ignite the whole world.
“I missed you,” he said.
“I can tell.” She laughed. “I missed you too.”
“Have you eaten yet?”
“No. I was going to have a quick bite.”
“Sit down, and I’ll dish up a plate for you. There are many choices. What are your favorites?”
“I can’t eat now. You’ve overwhelmed me too thoroughly.”
He chuckled. “Well, I am a very overwhelming fellow, but you can’t starve yourself for me.”
“I’m glad I bumped into you. I was hoping I would.”
“I intend to spend the entire day with you so you needn’t have fretted. I was about to search until I found you.”
It was such a sweet comment, and it rattled her. She viewed herself as being very pragmatic, and she understood there could be no valid reason to socialize. Deep down, she was no different from any other female. If they fraternized, she’d start to dream and plan, and she would ignore the pesky fact that Fate never smiled on her.
“We’re leaving in a few minutes,” she told him.
“Leaving? You and Miss Farnsworth?”
“Yes. We’re heading to Bath. She rents a house there in the summer.”
“I thought you were staying all week.”
“I thought we were too, but she changed her mind.”
At the announcement, he was genuinely disheartened, and she was thrilled. She couldn’t remember a man ever missing her or pining away. Perhaps no man ever had.
“What happened?” he asked.
“She quarreled with her nephew and with my cousin, Desdemona, but don’t tell anyone, would you?”
“I won’t.”
“I’m not sure if she’d want others to be apprised. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“I’ll always keep your secrets,” he vowed, “and she and her nephew are constantly at odds. I doubt people would be surprised to learn that they’ve argued.”
“I doubt it too.”
They studied one another, and at the prospect of separating from him she was quite bereft, which was silly. Yet it seemed as if she’d always known him, and they were destined to be together. It made no sense, but there it was.
“I guess this is goodbye,” she said.
“Actually, Miss Farnsworth invited me to join you in Bath.”
“She did?”
“I think she’s engaged in some matchmaking.”
“What a scamp she is.”
“She believes we’re a lovely couple, and it’s her duty to encourage us.”
“We shouldn’t let her interfere in our lives.” Tentatively, she added, “Should we?”
“I can’t decide what’s best.” He was as perplexed as she was. “Would you like it if I came?”
“Oh, Mr. Swift, I have no idea how to answer that question.”
“There’s something grand bubbling up.”
“You feel it too? It’s not just me?”
“No, it’s not just you, but is there any point to my chasing after you? There can’t be a relationship between us.”
“You’re correct. I’m certain there can’t be.”
“I’m a confirmed bachelor, and I would never pursue a respectable female such as yourself. I don’t have any money or moral inclinations toward others—especially not unattached maidens.”
“I don’t have any money either.”
“So…it’s hopeless.”
“Yes, hopeless,” she agreed.
He grinned. “Should I come anyway?”
She might have been standing on a cliff and racing toward it. “Yes, you should definitely come anyway.”
He pulled her to him and delivered another steamy kiss. When he finally released her, her knees were weak, and she could barely breathe with wanting him. It was futile to yearn and crave, but for once she wouldn’t worry so much.
She had an entire summer to fritter away in Bath. Mildred wasn’t her mother or governess. She wouldn’t be upset if Sarah had a fling, and it wouldn’t have to be decadent. She and Mr. Swift could simply be friends. Close friends. Kissing friends.
She was so happy she could have exploded from gladness.
“I’ll see you in a few days,” he said.
“I will absolutely waste away until then.”
“You’ve already figured out how to stroke my ego.”
“I’m a woman of many talents.”
“I’m eager to discover what all of them are.”
There was a hot gleam in his eye, and he might have kissed her again, but the door opened and two of the other guests strolled in to have breakfast.
“I’d better go,” she mumbled. “Mildred will be waiting for me.”
“You should eat on the road.” He grabbed a muffin and a napkin and gave them to her. “You’ll need to keep your strength up. You’ll be busy in Bath.”
Furtively, he squeezed her hand, and she scooted out of the room while she had the fortitude to tear herself away.
* * * *
“Clayton advises me that there’s horseracing tomorrow,” Desdemona said. “It’s not far from here.”
“I’m not a fan of horseracing.”
Desdemona smiled at Nicholas, but she probably didn’t look very fetching. She’d been drinking heavily so her head was throbbing, and a frown marred her brow. The evening’s festivities were just beginning so there would be even more drinking. And gambling. She enjoyed tossing the dice, but when she was feeling poorly she was prone to reckless mistakes.
“Don’t be silly,” she scolded. “It’s practically a sin not to love horseracing. We could make a day of it.”
“Why don’t you ask some of the other men? Fenwick or Pendergast might be delighted to escort you.”
She pouted. “I wanted it to be you.”
“I can’t oblige you. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
She had to swallow down her frustration. “Leaving! Not so soon. The party has hardly started.”
“I’m sorry, but I have other plans.”
They were in the card room and seated across from each other on two of the sofas. Several people were immersed in various games, but she hadn’t joined in. She was dying to ask him where he’d be so she could show up in the same place, but she had no idea how to finagle the information out of him.
Mr. Fenwick saved her. He glanced up from his cards and said, “Where are you off to, Swift? It will be so boring without you.”
“I have an invitation in Bath.”
Fenwick snorted with amusement. “Will she be worth it?
“I intend to find out. It’s why I’m going.”
“She must be rich,” Fenwick insisted. “Is that why you’re in such a hurry to abandon us? I suppose you won’t admit it to me. If she’s an heiress, I’d have to arrive before you and steal her away.”
“She’s not rich.”
“Then why bother?”
“I don’t know.”
The men at Fenwick’s table laughed as if scheming on a female was all a big joke. Desdemona thought it was funny too—so long as it wasn’t one of her friends who was the victim.
Pendergast peered over. “Didn’t Clayton’s aunt depart for Bath this morning? She and that pretty Miss Barrington? I could have sworn I heard that somewhere.”
“Yes, they left,” Nicholas replied. “I believe that was their destination.”
Desdemona studied his expression, but he was a cool fellow, and it was why he was such an excellent gambler. No one could guess what he was thinking.
Fenwick rolled his eyes at Nicholas. “Don’t tell me you’re chasing after a lady’s companion.”
“I won’t tell you,” Nicholas said.
“No money in that,” Fenwick muttered.
Pendergast countered with, “There can be a thrilling dalliance though. Common women are starved for attention.”
Nicholas ignored them, getting up to pour himself a brandy. He stood by the sideboard, watching them and sipping his liquor.
Desdemona was livid. Was he running after Sarah? Was that his ploy? If so, how could she wreck it? She was returning to London after the party, and she was anxious for him to be there too.
Might he actually be sweet on Sarah? The notion was nauseating, and Desdemona refused to let a romance bloom between them. She needed a means to guarantee that Sarah realized he was a corrupt rogue who would never truly fancy her. It would require evidence she could throw in Sarah’s face next time she bumped into the horrid, vain girl.
She rose and sidled over to the sideboard too. She poured her own drink and asked him, “Have you been enticed by my cousin?”
He scoffed. “What a preposterous question. I doubt I’ve talked to her but twice in my life.”
“You’re not panting after her? You’re not rushing to Bath to be at her beck and call?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then I have a proposition for you.”
“What is it?”
“You’re a betting man. I bet you can’t seduce her.”
“Seduce her? Why would I want to?”
“She’s an arrogant brat who assumes she’s better than everyone. I’d like to see her put in her place.”
“By paying to have her ruined? That seems a tad harsh.”
“I don’t like her.” She assessed him, then said, “Never mind. I can interest one of the others.”
She moved as if she’d walk over to Pendergast, and Nicholas grabbed her wrist to stop her. “How much is the wager?”
“Twenty pounds says you can’t get under her skirt.”
He pondered, then shrugged. “Twenty pounds says I can.”
She stuck out her hand, and they shook on it.
“How long do I have to accomplish it?” he inquired.
“How about two weeks?”
“Two weeks should be fine.”
“I demand a full-on fornication,” she said, “where you go all the way, then you sneak out of town after you’re through with her.”
“You’re a cold woman, Lady Middlebury.”
“I’m a gambler, Nicholas. I’m gambling that you’ll never persuade her, and I’m sure I just won twenty pounds.”
“Where will you be when I’ve finished it?”
“In town.”
“I’ll meet you there. We’ll settle up.”
“I can’t wait.”
She grinned, then went over to the card table and pulled up a chair.
“May I join in gentlemen?” she asked.
Mr. Fenwick nodded. “Of course, Lady Middlebury. I love to win money from such a grand person as yourself.”
“We’ll see if you win, Mr. Fenwick. Deal me in.”