Page 8 of Betting on a Baron
The Hadfield soiree was the last place Daphne wished to be.
The Duke of Fairmont’s ball, which heralded the official start of every Season, was not scheduled for another two weeks. Tonight's soiree was an intimate affair, which she normally preferred over the jostling loud balls during the Season. However, with so few in town, Ambrose’s scandal was the featured topic of conversation. She had no interest in the rumors of Ambrose’s financial demise, of which she remained skeptical. Unlike Alice, who appeared to be able to ignore the horrid gossip flowing about her without effort, Daphne’s head and stomach ached every time she heard the derogatory remarks about Ambrose’s carelessness with the family fortune. Standing along the back wall of the Hadfield music room, Daphne’s gaze fell to her clasped hands where her thumbs circled each other.
Ambrose... Alice… The Harlowe fortune… Ambrose… Alice.Her thoughts over the matter mirrored her thumbs, going around and around. While others were quick to believe Ambrose had repeated his father’s reckless behavior, she couldn’t fully accept the idea that Ambrose had indeed emptied the family coffers that she knew he’d worked diligently to refill. It simply made no sense.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Ambrose asked from beside her.
Stunned at Ambrose’s sudden appearance, Daphne stared up into his unusually serious features. His normally cheery disposition didn’t reach his eyes and his slightly lopsided smile was missing. Most interpreted her staid behavior to be disdain or a total lack of interest in others; however, the truth was, she simply needed a few extra moments to respond. The result of her mama’s mantra that one should always think before acting. She kept her head bent, suppressing her desire to study Ambrose’s features to see how he was faring with all the nasty remarks being hurled about. But she couldn’t face him, especially not after the debacle in the park. Reminded of his rejection, a surge of anger and embarrassment rolled through her and before she could think she said, “Since you’ve not a penny to spare, I shall keep my thoughts to myself.” Egad. She wasn’t normally so harsh or careless with her words.
Ambrose shifted to stand before her. As she stared down at the tips of his boots, her mind raced to evaluate her options. Look up and face the man or take a large step to the side and then run. Arghh. She’d promised herself earlier never to run away from Ambrose again. Leaving him with matters unresolved at the park had been a mistake and she was no fool to make the same error twice…at least not twice in one day.
Ambrose’s gloved hand appeared, and he placed a forefinger under her chin, tilting her head up until their gazes met. “Will you accept an IOU?”
At least he wasn’t scowling or glaring down at her. However, his smile was forced, and his tone didn’t hold its usual playfulness.
She should apologize. Instead, she blurted, “I should go find Alice.”
Ambrose turned to glance behind him. “She’s occupied.”
Daphne peered around Ambrose to find Alice chatting with a gentleman she did not recognize from across the room.
“I hadn’t realized Foxton had returned home.” Ambrose turned around and scanned the crowd. “Wonder where Dartman is?”
She studied Ambrose’s broad shoulders that filled out his jacket perfectly. She lightly tapped him on the back. “I’m sorry.”
Ambrose turned back around to face her. “Don’t be. After all I’m the one responsible for placing myself in this mess.”
She didn’t know how to respond. A change of topics might help thaw the frostiness between them. “Are you friends with Lord Foxton?”
He turned at the waist, looking in Alice and Lord Foxton’s direction. “We are acquaintances. Foxton and I belong to the same gentleman clubs and whatnot.” He turned back around to face her once more. “Why do you ask?”
“Well…” Heat traveled up her neck and she was certain the tips of her ears were bright pink. “I can’t imagine you having much in common with Foxton considering he’s are renowned rake.”
“You might be surprised at how much we do have in common.” Ambrose gave her a wink.
Daphne blinked at the man standing in front of her. This was a side of Ambrose she’d never seen before. Mayhap he hadn’t been the only one blind all these years.
Ambrose, the scoundrel, pointedly looked at the tops of her ears and cheeks then added, “It’s rather warm in here, is it not?”
“It is rather.”
“Shall we take a stroll along the terrace?” Ambrose stepped around to stand beside her and placed his hand on the small of her back.
The man had taken leave of his senses, touching her so intimately. She flickered a glance up at Ambrose. Who was this man? Rakes were not renowned for their financial prowess. Mayhap Foxton had something to do with Ambrose’s financial woes. She shouldn’t venture out alone with a gentleman even if it was Ambrose.
Ambrose glanced down at her and caught her staring. He drummed his fingers on her lower back. “Shall we?”
She really shouldn’t, but her curiosity got the better of her. “Mayhap we could invite Foxton and Alice to join us along the way.”
“Absolutely not.” Ambrose’s uncharacteristically loud reply garnered looks from all parties about the room, including Foxton and Alice, who were both scowling.
Perhaps Ambrose was right, for it didn’t appear either Foxton or Alice would be good company right now. She walked the perimeter of the room with Ambrose close at hand. His possessive touch did not go unnoticed by others. They were not engaged, nor courting. She wasn’t certain she liked this version of Ambrose. Except she couldn’t deny she was curious to discover more about the scoundrel next to her. Slipping out the open terrace doors, Daphne rushed forward to lean against the balustrade and inhaled.
Three deep breaths later, her pulse simmered back to its normal even pace. She turned to face Ambrose, who stood way too close with his back pressed up against the stone partition. She should have taken a step back, but she remained frozen and unable to look away from Ambrose’s solemn features. He had his hands clasped in front and his head bowed. In the moonlight Ambrose looked like he was carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders, which was understandableifhe truly was in dire financial straits.
“I spoke to my papa this afternoon.”
“About?”
