CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Early in the afternoon, Hellion’s Den was nearly silent. Only the sound of scurrying servants preparing for the night ahead broke the silence.
Seated at one of the numerous tables scattered about the room, Edward regarded the thin, rat-faced gentleman settled across from him. A wry smile touched Edward’s lips.
After a sleepless night, his companion’s scarlet coat and pink waistcoat were near painful to endure, but it was the fiercely twitching nose that held his attention.
He had not expected Biddles to be overjoyed with his announcement that he was to offer for Lady Bianca. In fact, he was quite prepared for a tedious lecture.
Not that he was particularly concerned, he conceded with a smile that refused to be dismissed. No one would be allowed to dim the giddy happiness that held him in its grip.
Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms over his chest.
“You might as well have your say, old friend,” he encouraged. “I fear you will burst if you do not get it out of your system.”
“I would prefer to shake some sense into you,” Biddles groused, taking a long draw from his flask. “Unfortunately, you are far too large a lummox for it to do any good.”
Edward gave a lift of his brows. “Lummox?”
“Slow-witted, paper sapskull who does not have the sense to avoid the most obvious trap ever laid for a man,” Biddles clarified without apology.
“I suppose you are referring to Lady Bianca?”
Biddles leaned forward, his pale eyes glittering. “The woman is a blatant opportunist.”
“Opportunist?” He gave a short laugh. “You are wide of the mark there, old friend. There is little to be gained by wedding me. Indeed, I do not doubt most will believe she has married quite beneath herself.”
Biddles narrowed his gaze. “You are no longer a penniless farmer, Edward. You are an earl with enough wealth to attract the most fastidious schemer.”
“Are you branding Lady Bianca a rank fortune hunter?”
“She told you herself she must wed for wealth.”
Edward’s warm glow did not falter, but there was no denying that the smooth thrust slid home. Biddles spoke nothing but the truth. Bianca was in need of a fortune. And a gentleman willing to haul her family from beneath the hatches.
Perhaps foolishly he had nearly forgotten.
Could it be that she had decided he was less repulsive than the suitors being thrust down her throat by her father? Had she decided that being the wife of a simple farmer was somehow preferable to being a pawn for a gentleman in search of power?
His chest tightened before he was fiercely thrusting away the disturbing thought.
No.
He would not doubt her.
He had held her in his arms, felt her passion and heard her cry out his name as she reached her climax. Not even the most proficient actress could respond with such fervor to his touch.
“I admire her loyalty to her family,” he retorted firmly.
Biddles clicked his tongue in annoyance. “And it does not bother you that she considers you no more than a means to an end?”
“I believe she has come to care for me.”
“She would, of course, wish you to believe that,” Biddles pointed out. “She is hardly likely to reveal her true feelings so long as she needs you to wed her.”
Edward clenched his jaw with a stubborn refusal to be swayed. Damn and blast, why could his friend not simply be pleased for him?
God knew he had never been so happy.
“You are very cynical, Biddles.”
“I am practical,” his friend corrected, his expression somber. “I have been among society far too long not to have seen any number of friends brought to their knees by a devious female. I would not have that happen to you.”
Edward forced his stiff muscles to relax. He did not doubt that Biddles was truly concerned for him. Or that he believed he was doing what was best.
He could not be angry for possessing a friend who desired only to protect him.
His warm smile returned to his lips. “I appreciate your concern, but it is not necessary. Bianca is the only woman I wish to be my wife. I will have no other.”
There was a long pause as Biddles studied his determined expression. Then, with a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his seat.
“There seems to be nothing left for me to do but wish you well,” he admitted in resigned tones.
“Actually, there is one more thing.”
“What is that?”
“I wish you to stand at my side when I say my vows.”
The pale eyes widened as a pleased smile curved the gentleman’s lips.
“I can think of no greater honor, my friend.”
“Thank you.” Rising to his feet, Edward sucked in a deep breath. One hurdle crossed. Unfortunately there was one still in his path. “And now . . . to confront the Duke. I do not suppose you have any suggestions?”
Biddles arched a brow as his smile turned sly. “You might wish to guard your . . . ummm . . . precious jewels. At some point you shall no doubt be in need of an heir.”
Edward winced in spite of himself. “As always, you are the greatest of comfort.”
“I do my best.”
“You are an evil man,” Edward complained.
Biddles produced a lacy handkerchief to dab at his nose. “Do you know, I seem to hear that with alarming frequency.”
The elegant gentleman’s club on St. James Street possessed all the comfort of a country home. Across the white and black marble hall the curved staircase led directly to the great subscription room where the younger blood attempted their luck at quintze and hazard.
It was all but empty in the early afternoon hours, and Edward did not pause as he moved toward a back, book-lined room where the Duke of Lockharte was well known to enjoy his weekly luncheon in privacy.
He was not disappointed as he stepped over the threshold and regarded the large, silver-haired gentleman settled in a distant corner.
Edward took a moment to gather his nerve before slowly crossing the carpet to stand beside the table that held the scraps of a beefsteak and a decanter of burgundy.
He waited with growing impatience for the nobleman to at last raise his head from the newspaper he had been scanning to stab him with a steely gaze.
“Yes?”
He offered a low bow. “Your Grace. May I join you?”
A shrewd glint entered the blue eyes. “I sense I could not halt you even should I desire.”
“I do have a matter of some urgency I wish to discuss with you,” Edward conceded.
The elder man waved a hand toward a nearby chair. “Oh, halt your hovering and have a seat.” Waiting until Edward had settled himself in the leather chair, he reached forward to pour two glasses from the decanter. “Burgundy?”
Edward readily took the proffered spirit, grateful that it had not been tossed in his face or poured over his head.
“Thank you.”
The Duke took a deep sip of the burgundy, pausing as he tested the richness upon his tongue before at last swallowing.
“Ah. Not quite so fine as mine, but passable. How do you find the Harrington cellars?”
Edward blinked at the abrupt question. He had expected . . . what?
Disdain? Anger? Aloof indifference?
Certainly not the near-pleasant tone that was somehow more unnerving than any angry outburst.
“To be honest I have yet to inspect them,” he reluctantly confessed.
“You are not a connoisseur?”
Wondering if he were about to be cast as an irredeemable philistine, Edward gave a shake of his head.
“I fear not.”
The mild expression did not alter. Thank the Lord.
“What are your interests?”
Edward paused before heaving an inward sigh. Obviously if he was not to be damned for one sin, it would be for another.
“Farming.”
“Farming?” the Duke growled.
Edward gave a shrug of his shoulder. “I am intrigued with the latest technology and inventions that have been produced in the past few years. I have already implemented many of them at my own estates and discovered them to be an invaluable investment. I hope to establish similar changes throughout the Harrington estates.”
“A laudable cause.” The blue eyes narrowed. “There are those who consider you a radical.”
Wondering if the wily aristocrat were deliberately attempting to rattle him, Edward forced himself to take a deep breath and consider his answer.
Hasty words only led to tragedy.
“A wise man recently told me that there was a distinct difference between a radical and a revolutionary,” he at last said in low tones.
A silver brow arched. “You think yourself a revolutionary?”
“I think that power carries a sacred duty to help those who are in no position to help themselves.” He briefly glanced about the room that carried with it the smell of old leather and older wealth. “My title is more than houses and farms and priceless collections. It is servants and tenants and families who depend upon me to do what is right for them.”
The Duke of Lockharte absorbed his words in silence before a shocking smile curved his lips.
“I can almost believe you are sincere, Harrington. Most rare in such a young man.”
Edward tossed back the contents of the glass before setting it aside. It was all going well. Far too well. He sensed he was being skillfully led into a neat trap.
The devious old coot.
Deciding to take the bull by the horn, he lifted his chin and met the piercing blue eyes.
“You know why I am here, Your Grace?”
The gentleman set aside his own glass before settling more comfortably in his chair. A master chessman preparing for battle.
“Bianca spoke with me yesterday.”
“I am aware that my bloodlines are not all that you would wish and that society might never fully accept me.” He spoke the words before the Duke could toss them into his face. “But I do not believe any man would ever love your daughter more than I.”
“Love is not all that I seek for my daughter. It is more important that she discover a husband who will treat her with the care she deserves.”
“I will do everything in my power to ensure her happiness. I can make no greater promise than that.”
They stared at one another. Man to man. Not threatening but silently measuring.
“She is stubborn and inclined to believe that she always knows best.” The Duke broke the silence. “She will not be a comfortable wife.”
Comfortable? Edward choked back the urge to laugh. Bianca would no doubt lead him a merry dance that would ensure his days never had a moment’s peace.
“I have never sought the easy path.”
“No, I do not suppose you have,” the older man murmured in agreement.
Edward slowly leaned forward. “May we depend upon your blessing?”
“You have no need of it. Bianca is of age and seemingly quite determined to become your wife.”
Sensing he was being tested, Edward gave a shake of his head. “No. If I have learned anything of Bianca, it is that she cares for you very much. She would be deeply saddened if you were to oppose our match. I would not have her begin our life together in such a manner.”
His brows rose in surprise. “You would walk away from her?”
“Never, but I would do whatever necessary to win your approval.”
“Hmmm.” The lined countenance was impossible to read. “She has told you that she has no dowry?”
“I have no need for a dowry.”
“And if I seek funds to stave off the vultures?”
Edward did not hesitate. “You are soon to be my family. I will do whatever is needed to assist.”
Without warning, the silver head tilted back as the Duke chuckled with unexpected humor.
“A rare man, indeed.”
Edward frowned, not certain whether to be relieved or terrified. “If you wish to contact my man of business . . .”
“You may keep your fortune, son,” he interrupted brusquely. “Although I may not be as flushed in the pocket as you, I am more than comfortable.”
The frown deepened. This time in shock.
“You are not in need of funds?”
“No.”
“But . . .” Edward pondered a long moment. “You lied to your daughter?”
There was not the least hint of guilt upon the arrogant features. “I protected her from crass fortune hunters. Not an easy task, I must tell you. There are those gentlemen who will stoop to any means to turn a female’s head.”
“Still—”
“Enough,” the nobleman barked. “I did what was necessary. And now you will reap the benefits.”
With an effort, Edward bit back his instinctive distaste for such blatant manipulation of his beloved. He was a straightforward man who found such devious means abhorrent.
Now, however, did not seem the most suitable moment to point out his objections.
“I have your agreement?” he demanded instead.
An odd smile abruptly softened the stark features as the Duke leaned forward to pour them both a measure of the rich burgundy.
“More than my agreement. You have my utmost admiration. I have chosen very well.”
Edward stilled, wondering if the man had misspoken.
“You have chosen?”
“A toast.” The Duke ignored the soft question as he raised his glass. “To Edward and Bianca, may they be blessed with love and friendship throughout the years.”
A sharp flare of satisfaction settled in Edward’s heart, dismissing the momentary curiosity. He had done it. Against all odds he had managed to capture the woman of his dreams.
And now nothing stood in their way.
Nothing.
Touching his glass to his companion’s, he resisted the urge to shout out his joy.
“To love.”
Intent on their private conversation, neither noticed the golden-haired gentleman hidden by the large potted palm. Nor the ugly smile that twisted his lips as he raised his own glass in a silent toast.
Well, well, well. Lady Bianca was precisely what he had thought her to be.
A wealthy young lady with a father who wielded enough power to ease all his troubles.
It seemed the future for Lord Aldron was not nearly so dark as he had begun to fear.