Page 4 of Betting on a Baron
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Having reachedthe normally overcrowded park, Daphne reflected that one of the benefits of returning to London early was that one could easily swing her arms out wide like a bird and not touch another soul, not that she would dare behave in such an unladylike manner. Daphne squeezed together her hands, which were tucked neatly in her muff. The temptation to break the rules mounted within her each Season that passed, and after eight Seasons it was quickly becoming a matter of when, not if, she would find herself courting a scandal. To enter a courtship with the sole purpose of assisting a friend wouldn’t constitute a scandal—would it?
The swish of skirts from behind reminded her she was not alone. Moments later, Sue’s cheery voice reached Daphne. “I’m sure Miss Alice will be fine.”
After her nursemaid retired and a string of maids who found it too difficult of a task to understand Daphne's contemplative nature, Sue, the third assigned to her just in the past year, was a Godsend with her sunny disposition and endless optimism.
Daphne continued forward, eyes glued to the path, and mumbled mostly to herself but also for her maid’s ears. “I’ve heard of gentlemen losing everything on a roll of the dice or the turn of a card, but Ambrose… he rarely takes risks or extends himself. The beast is a mathematician. Well aware of the odds and not likely to gamble large sums… or maybe…”
Sue’s gray skirts came into view at Daphne’s side. With a broad smile, her maid asked, “Have ye known Lord Harlowe for a long time?”
She scanned her surroundings. With nary a soul in sight along the stretch of path she was on, Daphne ignored convention and walked alongside Sue. “I met Alice and Am…I mean Lord Harlowe at court ten years ago.”
Eight Seasons should have been plenty of time for her to have to found a way to make Ambrose take notice of her. Yet the man whose warm brown eyes melted her heart never spoke to her unless required to by etiquette.
The tips of black Hessian boots came into sight. Daphne halted and lifted her gaze to find Ambrose smiling at her. The fierce beast’s scowl that she was more than accustomed to was nowhere in sight. Instead Ambrose stood before her with his lips tilted up at the corners exposing his remarkably straight teeth.
“Lady Daphne.”
Even faced with financial trouble, the man appeared refreshed and oh so handsome. Her gaze, like always, focused on the eyes that made her pulse race. “Lord Harlowe.”
His smile faded and he asked, “I thought we had dispensed with honorifics many moons ago.”
She hadn’t thought of him as Lord Harlowe for years. “I’mnotfamily and we are out in public, my lord.” Did he flinch at the mention of not being related by blood?
She scanned the path in front of her. The few that were about earlier were no longer within sight. She turned to look behind her to find the path empty. They were alone. A rare occurrence, one which she wished happened more frequently. While she wanted not to give a fig about the silly societal rules that dictated what was or was not appropriate behavior, she never wanted to taint her family or bring shame upon the Wilcock clan. With no one about to report upon her behavior, a surge of daring rolled through Daphne. Rather than demurely lowering her gaze, she continued to stare directly up at Ambrose.
His right eyebrow arched as he suggested, “Shall we take a stroll?” He winged his arm for her.
Ahh… so the man had no reservation speaking to her or being in her company as long as there were no witnesses. Or were the rumors true, and Ambrose had decided her dowry would sufficiently restore him to good standing. Both possibilities for him directing his attention upon her pierced her racing heart. Even if she wanted to take his arm, her pride wouldn’t allow it. “You can do as you please, I shall continue on.”
He didn’t speak but matched her stride for stride. When they continued around the bend, he stalled and then reappeared on her left side. Had he switched sides to shield her from the rare rays of sun? She frowned and banished the fanciful thought from her mind.
Hands clasped behind his back, Ambrose leaned slightly forward and turned to look at her. “Attempting to solve a weighty problem? Might I be of assistance?”
Not one to mince words, she stopped and he did as well. She whirled around to face him. “How could you place Alice in such a predicament?”
“I swear I intend to rectify matters as soon as possible.” He reached out and tucked a lock of hair that had escaped her coiffure behind her ear. “My apologies for causing you to worry.” He didn’t look abashed at his failings. In fact he seemed rather pleased as he continued on. “Let me assure you that there is no need to worry about Alice. While I set my family's financial affairs back to rights, my dear independent aunt Lady Farnsbury has agreed to sponsor Alice this Season. So Alice will have her French lace after all. However, this may be my sister’s last Season adorned in the latest fashion, so please assist me in encouraging her to find a suitable man to wed.”
Daphne noted Ambrose hadn’t specified that his sister was to marry a peer, unlike the majority of guardians would have. Her own papa had made it perfunctorily clear she was to land a lord for a husband and that he’d decline all other requests for her hand. Her mind raced with the names of all the eligible bachelors her mother had drilled into her head over the summer. She simply couldn’t picture Alice choosing to wed any of them and so she cocked her head to one side and said, “You are referring to your very own sister, Alice Kirkman, the most stubborn woman ever born, are you not?”
He released a resigned sigh. “I am.” The concern in his slightly misty eyes was legitimate. Alice had grown up without a father but she had been blessed with the most wonderful, attentive, caring older brother. What woman wouldn’t want to marry such a caring man? Blast the man for making her fall more in love with him.
“I’m afraid Alice and I shall remain in spinster seating unless you know of a gentleman who is daring enough to take on the challenge of discovering Alice’s sweet yet vulnerable side. As you know, her sharp wit tends to send men scurrying across the room.”
He stared down at her with an intensity that made her swallow hard.
Blink. She needed to blink to break the spell Ambrose was casting upon her, but she couldn’t stop staring back at the man she’d been infatuated with for years.
A flash of recognition—no, concern—appeared in Ambrose’s eyes. “And in doing so, Alice has in turn prevented you from finding a husband also.”
“Mayhap that is the exact reason I choose to remain loyal at your sister's side.” Alice’s ability to scare off potential suitors was exceptional, but Daphne wasn’t opposed to the idea of marriage like Alice was. Daphne was simply single minded as to whom she’d like to marry: the man glaring down at her.
“Does that mean you do not wish to wed?”
She wanted to stomp on the man’s toes and scream. But at the sight of his flushed cheeks, she held her tongue.
Ambrose shook his head in what looked to be embarrassment. “My apologies, Lady Daphne, that was rude of me to ask. It’s just that Alice is normally so direct, that I find it difficult to understand other women.”
