Just a Marriage of Convenience with the Duke by Hazel Linwood
Chapter 2
“Harriet, you look lovely,” Bridget said as her sister came down the stairs. “That gown fits you very well.”
“I suppose it does,” Harriet said, looking somewhat put out. “I cannot believe we couldn’t have new gowns for a ball that is being held for our family’s charity.”
“That’s precisely why we shouldn’t be parading about in new gowns,” Bridget reminded her. “We are hoping for the generosity of the guests to help our school. We cannot be wearing overly fine or expensive things while standing about with our hands out.”
Harriet stuck her tongue out at Bridget, but she ignored the younger girl’s disappointment as the earl emerged from the drawing-room.
“Are you ready, Father?” Bridget asked cautiously, looking at the sour expression on her father’s face.
“I suppose I am,” the earl answered, though he made no move to go to the door. He sighed mightily, then looked down. “Girls, I must bring you some very bad news.”
“What is it, Father?” Harriet asked, putting her gloved hand on his arm.
“I had hoped to keep this from you for as long as I could, but I cannot hide the truth any longer,” he said, darting his eyes up to look at them for only a moment before looking down once more, the shame clear in his voice. “Our fortunes have taken a turn, and I regret to say that the situation is rather dire.”
“What do you mean?” Bridget asked fearfully. “Just how dire is it?”
“We are virtually penniless,” he confessed slowly. “All of my solvency was held up in my latest shipments from Virginia, but the cargo proved to be worth far less than I anticipated. The price of timber did not reach as high as I was told to expect. That, and coupled with some of my debts coming due, we have been left with nearly nothing.”
Bridget and Harriet exchanged a frightened look, struck speechless by this revelation.
“What will this mean?” Bridget asked quietly. “What of the servants?”
“I have sufficient funds to see to their salaries for the next few months, but after that, they will need to seek other positions,” the earl confessed. “The house is fully owned, but the taxes to the Crown will mean having to sell it.”
“Father, where will we live?” Harriet asked, clutching at his sleeve.
“There is still the house at Repington,” the earl said sadly, causing Harriet to sway slightly as she neared fainting. “But if that house must also be forfeited, then we will have to live at the barony your mother’s great-uncle left in our possession.”
“I would rather die!” Harriet cried indignantly. “To leave London and become a poor farm girl? I will never find a husband!”
“Well, it’s odd that you mention that,” the earl began, though he stopped short of finishing his thought.
Bridget stared, already knowing in her heart what he might say. Her blood ran cold as she pushed down the sickly feeling that began to take hold of her.
“Don’t say it,” Bridget whispered, but the earl only looked at her sadly and shook his head.
“I’m sorry, dear girl. The only way to guarantee your futures is to find an eligible match straight away. If you do not, this Season will be your last, I’m afraid.”
Harriet looked to Bridget, whose eyes were starting to fill with tears. She took a deep breath and steeled herself, summoning the strength to ease her father’s shame and hurt.
“We understand, Father,” Bridget said, her voice shaking slightly though she fought to keep her composure. “We will do our best and as always, we will make you proud.”
“Dear girl, I am so sorry about all of this. I am just… lost,” her father replied, his own eyes moist. “Your mother was always the one who helped me know what to do, how to invest and how to avoid business dealings that were not trustworthy. I’m afraid that without her, I’ve had to go into business blind, never knowing what to do. I’ve not only let the both of you down, but I’ve also let her down as well.”
“Father, do not chide yourself this way,” Bridget said. “Mother was certainly a rare gem, and you cannot berate yourself for not replicating her wise counsel. Let us go and see how this evening unfolds.”
Harriet wiped at her eyes and nodded, opening the door herself and slipping out into the night. Bridget turned to go after her, but the earl pulled her back.
“Bridget, I’m afraid that I have not told you the worst of it,” the earl said, looking crestfallen again. “It is bad enough that you now face this pressure to marry, and that I will undoubtedly have to make matches for you that you may not be pleased with. Lord Haskins, a man I have known in business for quite a few years now, has made mention of seeking a wife, by the by.”
“We will make do, Father,” Bridget said curtly, not wishing to hurt him further but unable to feel happy about it. “And so long as you promise to take into account our opinions on this man or that, I know we will all turn out all right.”
“No, I understand perfectly. That is bad enough, I suppose. But dear girl, there is one more piece of bad news I must share with you—your school must close its doors. I must sell the building to pay off the rest of my debts, so the children will have to leave at once.”
* * *
Patrick stood wedged between his mother and his grandmother, watching the guests mill about and feeling terribly uncomfortable. The fact that this was a pointless ball was bad enough, but then knowing that everyone in the room had most likely read the brutal speculation about his immoral activities with a number of women made the event downright painful.
“Patrick, you must go and speak to your friends. You look ridiculous standing here with us this whole time,” his mother chided near his ear.
“What friends, Mother? The very people who would believe such rubbish if I am not married?” Patrick demanded bitterly. “And those same people who believe that marriage would somehow stop such depraved behavior? Are they addled in the head?”
“Well, you cannot stand here with the ladies. It is unseemly, and you will never meet a wife if you do not go and ask someone to dance. Just make sure it is someone suitable,” the duchess replied. “Come, Lady Claire, we will take a turn about the room and make Patrick available for conversing.”
His mother and grandmother gone, Patrick stood awkwardly and watched the other guests. There were quite a number of beautiful young ladies present, but they all had one feature in common—they watched him with an appraising eye, practically licking their lips like wolves about to devour a lamb. They could smell unmarried, titled blood it seemed, at least to him.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” a familiar, friendly voice said as a small glass of sherry was thrust into Patrick’s hand.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” Patrick said, taking a long sip of the drink. “I was afraid I wouldn’t know anyone… or would know too many people, that is.”
“That’s understandable,” Edward replied, clapping him on the shoulder jovially. “I wouldn’t be here except for my sister’s need for a chaperone. If she would hurry up and marry her betrothed, I could avoid these things altogether.”
“What is causing the delay?” Patrick asked, merely maintaining the conversation and not due to any real interest in the details involving his friend’s sister.
Edward shrugged. “She simply wishes to enjoy her last Season before being exiled to the man’s properties in the north, I suppose. All of my other sisters are already married, thank heavens. I’m glad my father lived long enough to handle that nasty business for me.”
“We make an odd pair, do we not? Titled young men who had no cares in the world not too long ago, only to find ourselves now burdened like Atlas after our fathers were taken too soon.”
“Your father, perhaps,” Edward conceded. “I was my father’s fifth child—at least the fifth one who survived—and his only son after a string of daughters. He was already advanced in years when he married my mother, so I have never known him except that he was gray-haired and walked with a cane. It is sad, and I miss him terribly, but I cannot honestly say it was unexpected.”
“True enough,” Patrick admitted. “But now I find myself in the unenviable position of being thrown before the wolves myself. My mother and my grandmother have made it rather clear that there is already scandal attached to my name, all because of my bachelorhood. It is a dreadful condition that I am to be cured of in the very near future.”
“I do not envy you that,” Edward said, laughing openly at his best friend’s situation. “It is rare that I am glad to be a lowly marquess, but this is certainly one of those times. When I marry it shall be at a time of my choosing and to a young lady of my choosing. Anyone who thinks otherwise will be told to have off.”
“I admire your confidence,” Patrick said. “Would you care to speak on my behalf to my own relations?”
“Not even for a moment. Those two women frighten me,” Edward said, laughing. “Come, let’s speak to James over there. He always has something amusing to say.”
As they made their way through the ballroom, Patrick was keenly aware of whispers every time he passed someone. Clusters of ladies seemed to speak of him behind their fans, watching him with wide eyes. Men he did not know watched him warily, offering only the barest of nods in greeting. The whole thing made him wish to turn around and flee for the front door, not stopping until he was back at home.
“Well then, do you see anyone who catches your eye?” Edward asked helpfully.
“I failed to look as I was otherwise occupied with everyone whispering about me,” Patrick admitted sheepishly.
“Why would you think they’re whispering about you? Because of that ridiculous scandal sheet from yesterday?”
“Of course. I know they’ve all seen it, Mother said as much.” Patrick shook his head angrily at the memory of their conversation.
“And you think those ludicrous remarks have set the ton’s tongues to wagging?” Edward asked, laughing lightly. “Lockhart, you must remember something. No one at all thinks there’s a shred of truth to those pages.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, the slightest stirring of hope lifting his spirits.
“They are mere entertainment, something for the ton to grab onto and discuss,” Edward explained. “Now, to be sure, should a young lady have been ruined and the news of it works its way into the circulation of local rumors, that would certainly be a problem… at least for her. But one of the many injustices heaped upon the fairer sex is that they must suffer should their every indiscretion be made public, while we gentlemen become all the more alluring for having been mentioned. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if your own mother was the one to inform the writer of your alleged behaviors.”
“What? My mother would never do such a thing, she lives in abject fear of a scandal causing us harm,” Patrick argued, shaking his head. “It’s simply not possible.”
“My dear naïve fried, it’s not only possible, but it’s also entirely likely she paid a few coins to have something printed about you. Why else would everyone suddenly know your name and be discussing you?” Edward asked, gesturing to a handful of guests who were looking in their direction. “Tell me, has that ever happened at an event before?”
“Well, no. Now that you bring my attention to it, I don’t recall ever being so openly gawked at like an animal in a cage,” he said, still looking around uncomfortably.
“And yet, your name is on everyone’s lips this evening. How unusual…” Edward said knowingly, his voice trailing off as he made his point.
Patrick was both relieved and repulsed by the notion that being spoken of in such a poor way could possibly be a good thing. Still, it did nothing to alleviate his discomfort at standing in a ballroom filled with people, some of whom might admire him and others who may loathe him.
All feeling seemed to leave him at once when Patrick chanced to see the hosts of the ball enter and begin greeting their guests. He had known Lord Kerrington for some time, along with Lady Kerrington and their daughter, Agatha. They were nice enough people, though he did not know them beyond being acquaintances. It was the young ladies who trailed after them who caught his eye, two unknown ladies who smiled and received introductions as they went along the far wall.
“Who is that? I’ve never noticed her before,” Patrick asked his friend, never taking his eyes off the tall young lady with the chestnut hair that fluttered with hints of red as the candles flickered in their sconces above her.
“I don’t know,” Edward replied, sounding somewhat disinterested. “You should probably go and find out, lest your mother accuses you of not even trying to be civil.”
“I think I shall,” Patrick said, only to find his feet firmly frozen to the floor when the worst sort of scoundrel he knew stepped forward and took the young lady’s hand, beckoning her to dance.
