The Bargain of a Baroness Read online

  “He was arrested. He’s in Newgate now, in fact, awaiting Parliament to reconvene. He expects he’ll get off with a slap on the wrist, but rumor has it Somerset wants him found guilty and stripped of his current and future titles and transported.”

  Graham furrowed a brow as he directed Jake to take the turn onto the Knightsbridge Road. “Can he do that? What happens to the dukedom?”

  “Michael, the second-born son, would inherit. Which would be a boon to the dukedom.”

  “How so?”

  “Michael has managed to protect his father’s—and the dukedom’s—assets despite Jeremiah’s attempts to bleed them dry. Protect his own and see to it Victoria’s were invested, as well.”

  Graham took his eyes off the road long enough to regard his cousin with a gleam in his eye. “Let me guess. Her assets are protected by some investment you are managing.”

  Tom angled his head back and forth. “You have the right of it,” he admitted, a dimple appearing in his right cheek. “It’s... it’s how we met. Michael asked that I pay a call. He wanted to be sure her monies couldn’t be taken by Jeremiah. I didn’t expect the meeting to amount to anything.”

  “But?”

  Tom inhaled. “Thanks to her sizable investment—and her choice of steam buses to invest in—we have a steam bus line running up north in Yorkshire. Eventually it will be replaced by the railway that’s being built there, but when that happens, the assets will be transferred to another town in need of reliable transportation, and the investment will simply continue.”

  Graham’s eyes darted to Tom for a moment before he once again had to pay attention to the traffic. “And this... Fairmont Park?”

  “It was an unentailed property of the Somerset dukedom,” Tom replied.

  “And now you own it.”

  “I don’t, actually.”

  Furrowing a brow, Graham said. “Then—“

  “I bought it and gave it to Victoria as a wedding gift.”

  Graham let out an exclamation that was a combination of a curse and a word of disbelief. “Thanks for nothing, you cur. Now you’ve gone and raised the stakes for the rest of us poor saps who might be considering matrimony,” he scolded.

  “Says the man who can have the entire east wing of Woodscastle any time he wants it,” Tom countered, referring to their boyhood home.

  “I rather doubt that,” Graham countered.

  “Your parents have been living in the townhouse in King Street for the entire winter. They like it there. They like that it’s in town. And they like that they’re across the street from Hannah’s parents.”

  Graham winced at the reminder of how his family was connected to that of Tom’s—Graham’s aunt Christiana was Tom’s mother, and Tom’s grandmother was Hannah’s mother. “Are they well?”

  Tom nodded. “James is mostly deaf,” he said, referring to his grandfather. “And Lady Simpson doesn’t look a day over forty.”

  “So I’ll recognize her, at least,” Graham reasoned as traffic finally cleared and Jake was able to increase his trot into a full-out run toward Chiswick.

  “You’d best, if you know what’s good for you.”

  Grimacing, Graham said, “She was the reason Hannah agreed to marry Harrington, was she not?”

  Tom rolled his eyes. “I know you’d like to blame it on her, but she has told my mother that she always held the opinion that you and Hannah would end up together.”

  Frowning, Graham said, “Then... then why did Hannah marry Harrington?” She had tried to explain it to him that last night they were together, but he had his mind on other matters at the time and had no desire to be thinking about Charles Harrington.

  Memories of that night had sustained him for a very long time. Had warmed him on cold winter nights and kept him sane during the days when he felt desperate loneliness in Boston.

  Clearing his throat, Tom gave his cousin a quelling glance. “Because he asked for her hand in marriage. Seven times over the course of a single week.”

  About to argue, Graham let out his breath in a long sigh. “I would have. Eventually.”

  “Well, if you have any hope of ever having her as a wife, you’d best be the one to ask her next,” Tom said. “She’s out of mourning, and the betting book at White’s is filling up fast with possible matches.”

  Graham winced as he directed Jake to take the turn onto Burlington Lane. “Is this right?” he asked, marveling at the height of the trees that lined the drive leading up to Woodscastle. With winter finally over, many already displayed the bright green leaves of early spring.

  “Looks familiar,” Tom replied with a grin. “I’ll introduce you to the staff and then expect you for dinner at Fairmont Park Monday night. I know you’ll want to spend a couple of days with your parents.”

  “Do your mother and father still live here?” Graham asked as he studied the tree-lined lane leading to Woodscastle.

  Tom allowed a shrug. “When they’re not at Cherrywood in Derbyshire. They were there for Christmas, returned for a month, and then left again last week for Yorkshire. Father wanted to review a couple of the railway lines that are under construction, and Mother went along because Emily is finally married, and there’s no one left for her to worry over.”

  Graham shook his head. “I still cannot believe little Em is married.”

  Tom grinned. “James is both my friend and a second cousin, so I was glad for them.”

  Graham shook his head. “Did you truly agree to the match?”

  Allowing a sigh, Tom said, “I recall feeling angry with them both for about one minute.”

  “Just the one?”

  Tom nodded. “Then I realized I was jealous. It was so easy for them. As if they were destined for one another. Because they were.”

  “And then you met Lady Victoria.”

  “Well, I had already met her, but barely,” Tom admitted with a guffaw. “So I understood.”

  The brick structure of Woodscastle slowly appeared from between the leaves of the tree-lined lane, and Graham let out a low whistle. “Looks better than when I left it,” he commented.

  “Father had the bricks cleaned last year,” Tom acknowledged. “Roger’s family was living here for a time, but he took a position at Barclay’s Bank and bought a townhouse in Cheapside,” he added, referring to his oldest brother.

  “Any coaches left in the carriage house?”

  Tom nodded. “There are. And there are still the two grooms you already know, so you’ll have a means to get about town on the morrow if you don’t wish to drive yourself. Or tonight, should you wish to make an appearance at Brooks’s.”

  Furrowing a brow, Graham asked, “Will you be there?”

  Tom said, “No, but your father still goes on occasion. Imagine his surprise should he find you there.”

  Graham nodded as he considered what he had ahead of him. To see to it a ship’s cargo was delivered to Wellingham Imports in the morning, and then a reunion with his parents at their offices. If he had time in the afternoon, he would pay a call at Harrington House.

  There was someone he needed to see, and apparently another he needed to meet.

  As for Brooks’s, that all depended on how much sleep he might manage in the next few hours.

  Chapter 6

  Cousins Reunite

  An hour later at 300 Oxford Street

  Edward Harrington stepped down from the Mayfield coach and regarded the front façade of Grandby and Son. His uncle had started the investment firm long before he ever married Christiana Wellingham, and Tom, their second-oldest son, had joined his father in the venture immediately after completing his education at Oxford.

  Making his way to the front door, he was about to open it when a hand reached in front of him and snagged the handle before he could. Startled, he turned to find Tom staring at him with a look of amusement as he opened the door.

  “I thought that was you,” Tom said with a grin. “What good timing you have,” he added as he waved his cousin�
�one of only two—into the building. “I’ve only just returned from Woodscastle this very moment.”

  Edward allowed a huge grin. “As a newly married man, it’s a wonder you even bother coming to work every day,” he teased.

  “Your cheekiness will earn you white tickets if you’re not careful,” Tom warned with a grin as he joined the younger man in the long corridor that led to his secretary’s counter.

  “I heard you married for love,” Edward countered.

  Tom regarded the heir to an earldom with a look of suspicion. “I did. And although I did take some time with my bride the week of our wedding, I do have responsibilities here. Once Father has concluded his business up in Yorkshire, he has promised he will see to the office whilst Lady Grandby and I follow the racing circuit.” He turned his attention to his secretary. “Mr. Adams, a round of tea, if you would.”

  “Right away, sir,” Adams replied. “Good to see you again, Mr. Harrington.” His eyes suddenly widened. “Or is it Lord Harrington now?”

  Edward gave a start and exchanged quick glances with his cousin. “Not that I’m aware,” he replied, although he said so with a hint of uncertainty.

  “On the occasion of your seventeenth birthday, I expect,” Tom said. When he realized he might be sharing a secret, he added, “I’m quite sure Mayfield has plans for you. We recently hosted your mother for dinner, and she mentioned it.”

  “Ah,” Edward acknowledged.

  They moved into Tom’s office, and Edward hurried over to the shelves containing Tom’s treasures. “Why, you’ll have your own museum before long,” he murmured as he admired the ancient artifacts.

  “I never thought being on the board of the British Museum would have me looking at relics in a new light,” Tom admitted. “Having the blunt to pay for them makes it easy to collect.”

  “One of my classmates was lamenting his lack of funds. Seems he used his entire allowance for the past two years on collecting ladies of the evening.”

  “And you?”

  “I still have most of mine. Cousin Roger set up an account for me at Barclay’s Bank,” he said, referring to Tom’s older brother.

  “You’re a wise young man,” Tom said as he poured them both brandies from a decanter. “It’s rare I get to do this more than once in a single day,” he added as he offered one of the glasses to Edward and then held up his in a salute.

  “Oh?”

  “You’re the second cousin to pay a call on me today, and I only have two cousins.”

  Edward’s eyes widened. “Mr. Wellingham was here?”

  Tom gave a start. “Indeed. How is it you know of him?”

  The younger man settled into the chair in front of Tom’s desk and raised the glass to his nose. He took a sniff before he sipped a bit of the brandy, sighing with satisfaction. “He’s the turtle.”

  Blinking, Tom settled into his own chair and regarded Edward with a furrowed brow. “Turtle?” he repeated, just then remembering Graham’s comment before they left the office for Woodscastle.

  “We are speaking of Graham Wellingham, are we not?”

  Tom nodded.

  “My mother told me a story about the two of them. A long time ago. I don’t think she expected I would remember, but from her manner of speech, I know she held him in high regard.”

  Taking a sip of his drink, Tom set aside the tumbler and said, “They were the best of friends in their youth. Truth be told, I always thought they would end up married.”

  Edward considered his cousin’s words before he asked, “Do you know why they didn’t?”

  Blinking, Tom considered how to respond. “Your father was very persistent in his pursuit of your mother.”

  “Seven rings in seven days,” Edward replied. “My grandmother made mention of it with a good deal of pride.”

  “The older matrons always make it sound as if jewelry is the way to a woman’s heart,” Tom murmured.

  “And you do not agree?”

  A grin appeared on Tom’s face, a grin that soon widened into a full smile. “In my case, I found shoes were more appreciated.”

  “Shoes?” Edward repeated, his brows furrowed.

  “Custom shoes. And boots. Lots of them. My wife has a crushed foot from when a horse stepped on it. Before I met her, she only owned a pair of custom riding boots that fit her perfectly.”

  Wincing, Edward drained his brandy and set the glass on the desk. “I will remember that should I favor a girl with a crushed foot,” he murmured. After a moment, he said, “I should like to meet Mr. Wellingham. Do you know how long he will be in London?”

  Tom straightened in his chair, suddenly suspicious of the younger man’s motives. “The rest of his life, I expect. He’s turned over the operations of the Boston office of Wellingham Imports to his partner there.”

  Edward’s eyes widened. “Might you know where I can find him? Tonight?”

  Taken aback, Tom asked, “If I tell you, what, pray tell, do you intend to do?”

  “Introduce myself, of course,” Edward replied. “I have always wanted to meet the turtle. Discover if he’s of a mind to renew my mother’s acquaintance.”

  “You would welcome that?” Tom asked, still suspicious.

  Edward nodded. “In the story my mother told me as a youth, the turtle was beaten by a horse, but the horse disappeared.”

  “And the turtle remained,” Tom guessed.

  “Indeed.”

  “Was this horse... your father, perhaps?”

  Edward stared at his cousin for a moment before he finally allowed a nod. “I believe so.”

  Deciding it was safe to tell Edward what he knew, Tom said, “I might have suggested Graham pay a call at Brooks’s this evening. In the event his father is in attendance.”

  His face brightening with this news, Edward said, “My grandfather is a member there. Perhaps I can suggest we make an appearance. Especially if he hasn’t already spent all of his gambling allowance this month.”

  Tom blinked. “Mayfield has an allowance for gambling?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Don’t you?” Edward countered.

  Settling back in his chair, Tom considered the query before he broke out into a chuckle. “I suppose I do,” he admitted.

  “Will you be at Lord Weatherstone’s ball this Tuesday evening?”

  Tom gave a start at the change in subject. “We have an invitation, of course,” he hedged.

  “And the proper shoes, apparently,” Edward teased. “Does your wife require further incentive to attend the best ball of the Season?”

  Not having spent a Season with Victoria, Tom had no idea if she looked forward to the balls and soirées, the musicales and the garden parties. “I think I shall leave early this afternoon and pay a call at Ludgate Hill,” he murmured. “See what bauble I can find to ensure we do attend. Lord Weatherstone’s ball is never one to miss.”

  Edward grinned. “Now that’s a good idea,” he said. “Thank you for the news about your cousin.” He stood up and Tom followed suit. “Now that my mother is out of mourning, I expect I will have to fight off a string of would-be suitors this week.”

  “Have you taken up bare-knuckle boxing?” Tom asked in a tease.

  Edward balled up his fists and struck a pose suggesting he would gladly take on an opponent. “I would prefer not to fight, but I would not back down should one become necessary.” With that, he lowered his fists and gave Tom a bow. “Thank you for the brandy. Rather a nice treat in the middle of the day.”

  Tom watched Edward depart, curious as to what the young man had in mind. Besides his heightened curiosity, he also experienced the oddest sensation. He had hosted both of his cousins on this day, and they looked remarkably alike.

  But then, they were related, he reminded himself.

  Chapter 7

  Billiards Begets a Baron

  Later that night, Harrington House

  “I see you’ve been practicing,” Edward complained when his grandfather sunk not one, but t
wo balls on the first break of billiards.

  “I have indeed. After you embarrassed me at Christmastide, I thought I had better spend some time in here after dinner every night,” Mayfield replied as he set up his next shot. “So I do. If I do well, I head to Brooks’s for a drink and sometimes stay for the eleven o’clock supper.”

  Edward allowed a grin, glad to hear his grandfather was still a member of the club that catered to a different clientele from that found at White’s. “Will you be doing that tonight?” he asked hopefully. Despite having consumed most of the seven-course meal they had finished only the hour before, Edward would welcome the opportunity to eat again before settling into his bed.

  Besides, he was hoping to make the acquaintance of a certain gentleman.

  Mayfield gave the question some thought before he took his shot. When none of the balls disappeared into the leather pockets, he murmured a curse. “I suppose you’ll be hungry in an hour or so.”

  Lining up his shot, Edward pretended an air of nonchalance. The queue ball struck a red one, sending it into a corner pocket. “I can always make room for another meal, sir,” he admitted with a brilliant smile.

  “Well, then let’s finish up this game and make our way there. I suppose you already know how to play hazard?”

  Edward pretended ignorance. “My mates and I have played faro on occasion, but not for money, of course,” he claimed, deciding it better he not admit they gambled as a means to pass their white tickets to the loser. The game had kept him from having to work off a single demerit, not that he had acquired many over his time at the boy’s school.

  “Is that how you get rid of your white tickets?” Mayfield guessed, a bushy brow lifting in amusement. Edward’s second shot sent a ball nearly careening over the edge.

  His face reddening, Edward said, “I rarely earn a white ticket, sir.”

  Mayfield lined up his attempt to sink a blue ball. “How are you at whist?” The blue ball disappeared into a pocket and Mayfield quickly sunk another ball.