The Lord’s Desperate Pledge Read online

  Miss Darlington lifted her skirts with one hand and deftly pulled herself up to the driver’s seat with the other. Lily walked round to the other side, not having the least idea how she would mount.

  Fortunately, one of the grooms who had come with the carriage raced ahead of her with a box to step on. Miss Darlington reached down for her hand and in a trice she was up. Lily felt as if she had just ascended a dizzying height. The ground seemed very far away.

  Both grooms had appeared amused to hear that their carriage was to proceed empty and follow behind a lady whip, but that amusement had speedily disappeared when they’d watched Miss Darlington mount with ease and with no help from them. Then of course, there was her fierce-looking tiger hanging off the back, who seemed to find nothing amusing.

  They set off, Lily clutching at the side of the phaeton as they rolled down the street. She slowly began to relax as she watched Miss Darlington expertly weave around stopped carriages, men on horseback, hackneys, a street sweeper, and lumbering wagons hauling supplies to one place or another.

  As they passed through the Stanhope Gate and into the park, Miss Darlington herself seemed to relax. “There now,” she said, “I’ve got you into the park safely, just as I promised I would.”

  “It is rather wonderful how you do it,” Lily said.

  “Bah,” Miss Darlington said dismissively, “it is no great trick to develop a knack for horseflesh and the vehicles they pull. In any case, everybody has their own skill at things. I understand you are rather a master at piquet.”

  Lily felt the faintest of flushes. “I will not be missish and deny it,” she said. “Though I do wish it was not talked of.”

  Miss Darlington expertly guided them toward the Serpentine. “I am not very good myself, and rather abominable at whist as any poor partner of mine would tell you,” she said. “But if I were very good at cards, I should not at all mind trouncing Lord Ashworth.”

  Lily smiled. “I cannot claim to have minded it,” she said. “He was so certain of his superiority.”

  “As they ever are,” Miss Darlington said, laughing. “I blame their governesses, most young men are spoiled terribly. How is one to be humble when one has always been hailed as a veritable prince?”

  “It is a shame, I think, that one so handsome should be so disagreeable,” Lily said daringly.

  “I suppose he is thought handsome,” Miss Darlington said, “though I prefer a dark-haired man myself. Goodness, speak of the devil. Both of the devils, as a matter of fact.”

  Lily followed Miss Darlington’s gaze. Lord Ashworth and another gentleman rode toward them.

  “Why must he be here,” Lily said softly. “It is a very strange hour to be out riding.”

  “And yet here we are too,” Miss Darlington said.

  Lily could not help but note Lord Ashworth’s expression when he spotted the phaeton. It was one of consternation. She did not know who the other gentleman was, but he seemed exceedingly pleased by the oncoming phaeton.

  Despite Lord Ashworth’s less than complimentary expression, Lily could not help but note, once again, his good looks. He sat upon a fine bay and carelessly held the reins in one hand. He was tall in the saddle, his coat close-cut, and his interesting eyes could be seen even at a distance.

  The gentlemen reined in their horses. “Miss Darlington, Miss Farnsworth,” Lord Ashworth said. Lily thought he very much sounded like a butler announcing visitors.

  “So this is Miss Farnsworth?” the other gentleman said.

  “Miss Farnsworth,” Miss Darlington said, “That gentleman with the ever-casual manners is Lord Cabot.”

  Lily nodded at the introduction.

  Lord Cabot looked admiringly at the phaeton. “You have prevailed over your father, Miss Darlington.”

  “As you see, Lord Cabot,” Miss Darlington said.

  “And Miss Farnsworth prevails at the card table,” Lord Cabot continued. “I fear the women take over the world. What say you, Ashworth?”

  “So it seems,” Lord Ashworth said.

  “I do not think we attempt to take over anything,” Lily said. “But I also do not think we should pretend to be less than what we are.”

  Lord Cabot laughed. “Come, Miss Farnsworth,” he said, “it makes us gentlemen very comfortable when we can delude ourselves that we are superior in anything. The fairer sex has always assisted us in it.”

  Lily did not answer. Miss Darlington glanced at her, then said merrily, “Carry on with your delusions, then.” She smartly slapped the reins and they moved off, leaving the two gentlemen behind.

  As they trotted along the Serpentine, they were silent for some moments. Finally, Miss Darlington said, “I would not have stopped if I had perceived how uncomfortable it would be for you to meet Lord Ashworth. I had thought he would take his losses at cards with all good humor.”

  “I have yet to see that particular lord display good humor over anything, Miss Darlington,” Lily said.

  Miss Darlington laughed and said, “You’d better call me Penny. I am firmly decided on being your staunch defender against Lord Ashworth’s disagreeableness.”

  Lily smiled. “And you will call me Lily.”

  Though Lily was more than discomfited to have encountered Lord Ashworth in the park, and to experience his coolness, she was at least satisfied that she had made a friend in Penny Darlington.

  *

  The Lords Cabot and Ashworth had neared the gate out of Hyde Park as Lord Cabot nattered on about their recent encounter with Miss Darlington and Miss Farnsworth.

  Though Cabot did not mention it, Hayes could not be entirely satisfied with himself. Dalton’s caution not to appear as if he needed a governess still rang in his ears and he could not ignore his less than genial comportment upon encountering Miss Farnsworth.

  He could not countenance displaying any sort of unsportsmanlike behavior and he was afraid that he had in his recent encounters with the lady. That he supposed she employed some method of play he did not yet understand was not an excuse for rudeness. It had slowly dawned on him that his aggravation with the lady was in large part caused by his aggravation with himself.

  He’d never found himself in such a situation! To be beaten, handily and twice, by a lady.

  “Miss Farnsworth, eh?” Lord Cabot said. “She’s a pretty enough filly.”

  “No doubt,” Hayes answered.

  “I know her looks are the type you go for, so on behalf of all the gentlemen of the pact, I say I am glad she has invoked your ire at a card table. No danger of you falling for the lady now!”

  “Certainly not,” Hayes said.

  “Shall you go to Lady Carradine’s this evening?” Lord Cabot asked. “I’ve determined to give up hazard and so may make that house my preferred establishment. No hazard table, no fine wine, no chance to empty my purse. I am determined to carefully guard what’s left of my funds in anticipation of Newmarket.”

  “It is unlikely I will be at Lady Carradine’s,” Hayes said. “Or if I go it will be late. Lady Catherine’s dreadful ball is this evening. As you know, my mother would skin me if I did not attend.”

  “Good God,” Lord Cabot said laughing, “is the old thing still alive and going on with it?”

  Hayes nodded.

  “Well, at least Grayson will be there to keep your spirits up. He never has any luck dodging the engagement either.”

  Hayes suspected Grayson would be one of the few people he was anxious to meet there. Every year he was forced to attend Lady Catherine’s ball. His mother was a dear friend of the lady, having been steered through her first season by the dowager countess. That the lady must be in danger of departing her sixtieth decade by now had not appeared to slow her down.

  The ball would be a small one, as it was always. The invitations would be carefully curated and apparently no consideration would be given to a lady’s looks. Those invited would be families who were considered to be of the right type by Lady Catherine, and the year before he’d spent the e
vening dancing with one tiresome female after another.

  Where did the lady even find such creatures? He dreaded encountering Miss Blaise again, as he had heard the lady was as yet unmarried—she had bulging eyes and was forever directing those orbs in his direction. When she was not staring, she embarked on something he supposed was flirtation—it consisted of blinking, high-pitched chortles, and fan waving. Occasionally, she would swat his arm with her fan and claim he was “Very bad,” though he’d not said anything.

  He had wondered if the lady could read his thoughts, for they had been in truth very bad.

  Then, of course, there would be the supper. A small table graced with old-fashioned, heavy dishes, and he forced to entertain some person he was certain he would not like.

  He was only thankful such an evening came but once a year.

  *

  Of the many invitations that had arrived to Mrs. Hemming’s door, most could be attributed to Cassandra’s efforts on Lily’s behalf. One invitation, though, could only be ascribed to Mrs. Hemming herself. Lady Catherine Markham, Dowager Countess of Thornbridge, was a very old friend of Mrs. Hemming. They had met in the late 1790s and discovered in each other a keen interest in whist. They were often partners at this or that card party and knew each other’s play so well they could practically read each other’s thoughts. Mrs. Hemming had ever been in the habit of attending Lady Catherine’s annual ball, as she could count on an interesting evening of cards and a good supper at the end of it.

  Lily had been told of the peculiar nature of the ball, its small size and its interesting collection of people Lady Catherine favored. According to Mrs. Hemming, Lady Catherine felt it her duty to bring together those from suitably old families in the hopes that there might be some marriages made. Though Lady Catherine thought herself quite the matchmaker, Mrs. Hemming could not recall any particular match ever having been accomplished.

  When Lily had looked over her dresses, she’d settled on the midnight blue satin. She was well aware that had her aunt not been Lady Catherine’s favored whist partner, Lily Farnsworth from Surrey would not have received an invitation at all. The gown was simple in its cut and would not put her forward in any way. Lily did not wish for Lady Catherine to regret her decision.

  Chapter Seven

  Lady Catherine Markham, Dowager Countess of Thornbridge, had never been impressed by the ton. It was her estimation that far too much weight was thrown on the side of money, fashion, and glib manners. Lady Catherine was not impressed by any of those things. The only attribute that interested the lady was bloodlines.

  Could a family’s line be traced back to at least the fifteenth century? Or were they some sort of newcomer with pretensions?

  She employed a gentleman who researched such things, as it was her wish to keep England’s bloodlines unsullied. He was the second gentleman to hold the post, as she’d had to dismiss the first when he insisted that if close relations married too often down the generations, it could result in physical and mental deformities. What an old-fashioned notion—had not Henry Tudor decisively ruled on the subject with the Marriage Act of 1540? Deformities might arise in the lower classes. After all, who really knew what sort of muddled blood they carried round? The nobles, on the other hand, had rarified blood that could not be sullied. It only made sense that first cousins should marry.

  When she sent out the invitations to her annual ball each year, it was with an eye toward uniting the young people of various old houses. Upon hearing that her friend Amelia Hemming currently had her niece staying with her, she’d set her man on a quest to document the girl’s bloodline. There had not been anything to recommend it and Lady Catherine found herself torn—the girl should not be included in her illustrious company, but she did so prefer to partner with Amelia Hemming at whist. In the end, she’d issued the invitation despite some misgivings. Let nobody think Lady Catherine Markham was illiberal.

  Lady Catherine could not say what she had expected of Miss Farnsworth, except to suppose she would be a small and retiring sort of person who would be awed to be in the presence of England’s real nobility. She had, therefore, been surprised to find the girl pretty. Very pretty and elegantly dressed, if she were forced to swear to it in church.

  As Lady Catherine scanned the ballroom room, she could not help but to wonder why so many girls with pristine and gloried descents should be so plain. Poor Miss Blaise—she could trace her family back to the twelfth century, but why must her eyes resemble that of a fish? Why must she dress in a silver silk, which only reminded one of a landed carp? Lady Catherine could only hope that some gentleman in attendance this evening would see the girl’s true value and look past any outward charms that might fail to present themselves.

  That hope was forced to waver somewhat, in noting that it was Miss Farnsworth who seemed to garner most of the attention.

  Lady Catherine quietly sighed. At least she would have Amelia Hemming as her whist partner. That must serve as consolation.

  Hayes was studiously avoiding the eye of Miss Blaise, who was just as determinedly trying to catch his own. In truth, he hardly knew where to look, there were so many directions to avoid.

  Much to his surprise, he’d seen Miss Farnsworth enter the ballroom. He’d had no notion that she could be one of Lady Catherine’s set. He’d thought she came from some middling family in Surrey, and in any case, she was a deal too pretty in a dark blue gown to be in attendance at this particular ball.

  At least there would be no card game with Miss Farnsworth. While the older people in attendance would settle to whist, the paltry number of single gentlemen in attendance would be required to be on the ballroom floor.

  “My God,” Lord Grayson said, standing next to him. “What on earth is happening to Lady Catherine’s ball? She has let in a pretty girl.”

  “That is Miss Farnsworth,” Hayes said quietly.

  “Indeed,” Grayson said thoughtfully. “How interesting. Well, let us not allow the moss to grow on our boots, her card will be filled in a trice.”

  “I have no intention of entering my name on the lady’s card,” Hayes said.

  “Do not be ridiculous,” Grayson said dismissively. “If you do not apply to her, you will seem a poor sport. You might get away with it at a large ball, but she is clearly superior to every female here and your motives for passing her over will be mocked from here to Brighton. It will be said that Lord Ashworth experiences a temper tantrum upon losing at cards.”

  Hayes bristled at the idea, though he knew very well that Grayson was right. Further, he had been waiting for his opportunity to show the world he was not bothered by losing a few hands at piquet.

  Grayson grasped his arm and pulled him forward. “Hurry now, or we shall be beaten to it.”

  Lily had guessed from her aunt’s description that Lady Catherine’s ball might be somewhat odd. Most glaring, there were not so many people as would be usual. Perhaps if it were to be a small party confined to the drawing room, with a dance struck up by somebody on the pianoforte, it might seem the thing. But this was to be a formal ball, with an orchestra, and there were not above sixteen couples.

  Worse, of all people who should find their way in the door, there was Lord Ashworth.

  He was impeccably dressed, as always. His coat perfectly tailored to his tall frame and his cravat tied elegantly simple, its only adornment a small emerald pin. He stood talking to a gentleman Lily did not know.

  Though she could not help admiring Lord Ashworth’s physical person, she had no particular wish to speak to him. She could not say the same for a lady in silver silk, who seemed to regard him as a quarry that must be silently stolen up on. The lady had been staring at him and edging ever closer for some minutes.

  Lily turned away as she noted the lady in silver silk was to be disappointed in her attempt to capture. Both Lord Ashworth and the unknown gentleman made their way toward her.

  “Oh dear,” Mrs. Hemming said to her softly. “No card game here, Lily. I must be fir
m on that idea, Lady Catherine would not like it. She abhors low gossip. So she says, in any case.”

  “You must not fear on that front, Aunt,” Lily said. “He shall not goad me into it, though he will likely do his best.”

  The gentlemen had arrived and Lily curtsied.

  “May I, Miss Farnsworth?” Lord Ashworth said, holding out his hand.

  Lily handed over her card as she did not know what else to do. Why would he take a dance? It was most unaccountable.

  As Lord Ashworth put his name down, he said, “Miss Farnsworth, Mrs. Hemming, may I present Lord Grayson?”

  Lord Grayson executed a bow with rather more flourish than Lily was used to seeing.

  “Mrs. Hemming, delighted,” Lord Grayson said. “Miss Farnsworth, charmed. May I hope to be among your partners this evening?”

  Lord Ashworth had done with her card and Lord Grayson took it from him. Lily noted the peculiar twinkle in his eye as he viewed it. “I see these callow youth who have gamed up the courage to take a dance with Miss Farnsworth did not go so far as to dare supper. But you, Ashworth? I am surprised that I find myself so fortunate.”

  And with that, Lord Grayson marked his name down for the dance before supper.

  Though Lily had thought Lord Grayson had been unfair to deem the gentleman on her card as callow youth who had not dared supper, her opinion underwent a significant transformation after the ball had begun. It felt as if she were back in Surrey again—perspiring hands leaving a mark on her glove and a trodding of toes for good measure. Even more uncomfortable, the young gentlemen seemed to be not very experienced in polite conversation. She had been rather more lectured to than conversed with.

  She was to know that Mr. Hackeray was the younger son of an earl whose family went back to the fourteenth century. He had come to London to marry an heiress and pour that lady’s fortune into a crumbling estate he’d come into. He would bring the house back to its former glory. He had quietly mused that any lady would be eager to take on the esteemed Hackeray name. Lily had quickly assured him that, despite the scheme’s obvious allure, she was no heiress. He seemed to take it very badly.