Page 27 of Betting on a Baron
Thank the heavens, the Viscount of Sumnerson had granted him permission without inquiry or hesitation. If Daphne’s father had posed such questions to him, he too would have been reduced to a bumbling fool. Taking mercy on Foxton, Ambrose resumed his seat and waited.
“She makes my life a living misery and so I’d like to return the favor.”
Ambrose had shared that same sentiment toward his sister a time or two over the years. Alice was not the quiet missish lady the ton believed her to be. She was a hellion in disguise. If Alice had revealed her true nature to Foxton, then she must trust the man. Mayhap even care for him. The revelation had Ambrose on his feet. “I’ll make you a deal. If Alice accepts your proposal, I shall not object to you marrying her.”
“You're her guardian. We can draft up the agreements and…”
Ambrose rose a hand to stop Foxton’s ramblings. He recognized the mixture of frustration and longing in Foxton’s gaze. The man wasn’t thinking or seeing straight, and Ambrose knew exactly how that felt. “If Lord Middleton—you do remember the gentleman your sister pushed into the lake at the Hadfield affair, don’t you?” Ambrose waited for Foxton’s smile before continuing, “If Middleton came to you and suggested you enter into a similar arrangement for Lilly, would you do it?”
“My youngest sister listens to no one. Even if I wanted to sign her life over to Middleton, Lilly would find some way to finagle her way out of such an agreement. Then Lillyandyour sister, who might I add has become Lilly’s boon companion, would concoct some scheme that would no doubt result in my demise.”
The man’s melodramatic response only confirmed Ambrose's suspicions that Foxton was already well and truly in love with Alice.
Ambrose slung his arm over Foxton’s shoulders and said, “Gain Alice’s agreement.” He released his friend and marched out of the room. Foxton’s turbulent behavior gave Ambrose a new perspective on how to approach Daphne. He’d ask Daphne what she wanted to know, rather than tell her what he thought was important. He’d not mince words and be honest and forthcoming. He’d profess his love and hope she would forgive him and give him a second chance.
Determination alone wouldn’t gain Daphne’s favor. He needed a grand gesture—but what?
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Hidden behind a group of young dandies, Ambrose waited for his opportunity to approach Daphne, who was flanked by Alice and Foxton’s sister, Lady Lilly. He watched as Daphne craned her neck this way and that, hypnotizing him with her movements. He recalled Madame Sinclair’s words,don’t underestimate the sensitivity of a woman’s neck. A light warm breath, a gentle graze of a finger could be extremely subtle and yet a highly effective method to awaken a lady’s desires.
He remained rooted to the spot despite noting Daphne cringe as his sister’s pointy elbow nudged Daphne’s side. “Blast Foxton.” Alice’s unladylike complaint reached him and everyone close by.
Lady Lilly, who was standing between Daphne and Alice, turned and winked at Daphne. “I apologize. My brother has this terrible habit of interfering at the worst possible moments, wouldn’t you agree, Alice?”
“Your brother is a damned nuisance.” Alice reached for another glass of ratafia, her third for the evening. Ambrose shook his head. He didn’t wish to intervene between Foxton and Alice, but if their bickering continued, it might well harm Alice’s chances of marrying.
His sister looked at Lady Lilly and then Daphne and asked, “Well, ladies, is it time we retreat to spinster seating?”
Now was his chance. He reached out and caught Daphne’s elbow as she turned to follow Alice and Lady Lilly. She froze and inhaled sharply.
No time to waste. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “May I have this dance?”
She turned to face Ambrose. “I’ve already declined two lovely offers from gentlemen tonight. It would be a faux pas beyond the pale on my part if I agreed to take a turn about the floor withyouthis eve.”
Jealousy blazed through his thoughts and negated all his well-intended plans. “How about a stroll in the gardens?”
“Are you trying to cause a scandal?”
“If it results in you meeting me at the altar, then yes.” Their conversation was the exact opposite of what he’d imagined.
“Still on the hunt for an heiress, are you?”
Damn the woman’s cutting wit. He placed a hand on the small of her back and urged her forward.
“Where are we going?” Daphne demanded.
He could at least try to be accommodating. He closed the gap between them and whispered, “Your choice: dance floor, library, or the hot house.”
Daphne dug her heels in and whirled around to face him. “Ambrose Kirkman. I will not be forced to marry. Not by you, my parents, and definitely not by some scheme concocted by Lady Osbourne.”
He loved how her cheeks flushed and her lips pursed when she was angry.
Refocused, he asked, “Very well, if you won’t be coerced, then will you marry me willingly?”
Daphne’s lips twitched. She was trying hard not to smile but the corners of her lips gave way and curved into a grin. “You owe me an apology.”
“I owe you more than one.” Ambrose took her hand and weaved them through the crowd and was saved by the supper bell. “Will you grant me the pleasure of dining with you this eve?”
