Page 9 of Betting on a Baron
“The rumors flying about that you are in dun territory.”
“And?”
“Must be a blasted family trait,” Daphne muttered to herself.
Ambrose smirked. He must know how frustrating it is to only receive one-word responses, for Alice was the queen of such conversational behavior.
“My apologies, Daphne. It does seem like we Kirkmans have a terrible habit of not forming proper sentences.” He shifted and leaned his hip against the balustrade to face her. “Pray tell, what did your father have to say?”
“He shared that he too had heard the gossip and that anything was possible but he wished to speak to you directly about the matter before forming any opinions.”
“If the rumors were not true, don’t you suppose I’d have refuted them already?” He tugged on his cravat and then continued, “I’d be a fool not to, seeing as I’m on the hunt for a wife this Season. The gossip obviously doesn’t endear me to any of the papas, and what woman would want to marry a destitute baron?”
She tilted her head to capture his gaze. His response was well crafted as if he’d practiced the lie many times prior. If he was attempting to deceive the ton, adopting the persona of a scoundrel might be part of his scheme. Ambrose’s right brow dipped and then arched. Her gaze was clearly making him nervous.
The Ambrose she was familiar with would never be so irresponsible as to gamble away his entire family's fortune nor would he be so nonchalant about the matter. If he truly was broke, the man would be scrambling to do whatever it took to set matters to rights.
Daphne looked back into the music room and found Alice laughing and enjoying her evening with fellow spinster Lady Hazel Arbor, whose brother happened to be Ambrose’s closest friend. Lady Hazel had a considerable dowry. Was she the one Ambrose hoped to ensnare this Season? After all, it wasn’t uncommon to fall for your best friend's sibling—she herself was proof of that.
She glanced over at Ambrose, whose gaze was also trained in the direction of his sister and Lady Hazel. If Lady Hazel was the woman Ambrose wanted, then as Alice’s friend she should assist. She straightened and said, “Lady Hazel has a sizable dowry.”
“You are quite right, but if I’m not mistaken, not as large as yours.”
“Didn’t you reject my proposal earlier today?”
“Did I? I don’t believe so. Even if I had, a man can change his mind, can’t he?”
“You’d have better luck persuading Lady Hazel’s brother than my papa if in fact you are as broke as you purport.”
“Why do you continue to doubt that my coffers are barren?”
“Because I know you. And you would never place Alice in such a predicament.”
“Mayhap you don’t know me as well as you think.” Ambrose leaned forward and spoke into her ear. “Allow me to take you for a carriage ride on the morrow.”
Daphne imagined that if anyone was to look out the window at that moment, it could appear as if Ambrose was about to kiss her, placing her at risk of being compromised. This time, she took a large step backwards, but her newly fashioned shoes with heels caught in a crevice and she lost her balance, her arm flaying in the air.
Simultaneously, warm arms wrapped around her waist and a collective gasp from the other side of the glass door forced Daphne to reach out and grab Ambrose by the lapels of his coat and bury her face into his chest.
Heavy booted footsteps pounded towards them accompanied with the familiar susurrus of slippers. If it was indeed her parents as she suspected, she was doomed. She held on tight to the man, hoping that this was all a bad dream and that when she opened her eyes she’d be safe in her four-poster bed at home.
Her papa’s voice boomed, “Harlowe, unhand my daughter this instant.”
Rather than Ambrose’s arms loosening about her, he tightened his hold. “I can’t.”
“Why ever not?”
“My cufflinks are entwined in the material of her gown and her heel is stuck in the crack.”
Daphne peeked and found her father assessing the situation and then shooing the crowd back inside. “Nothing to see here. Harlowe was simply acting honorably. Preventing Daphne from falling. It appears that my daughter has twisted her ankle.” Her father looked over his shoulder and spoke to her mother. “Take her home.” Brow furrowed, her father added, “And I’ll have a word with you, Harlowe, in private.”
Her mother untangled Ambrose’s cufflink and assisted her to an upright position but as she dislodged the shoe, the heel broke.
Ambrose whispered, “Allow me to carry you out to your carriage.”
Embarrassed by the entire scene she nodded and kept her face tucked against his chest as he bent and place his arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms.
“Do not worry. Your father will honor his promise to you.”
