Page 2 of Betting on a Baron
Ambrose suggested, “Mayhap the haberdashery next door may have some lace to your liking.”
There was another round of collective gasps from the other side of the curtain but this time also from his sister.
Miss Lennox pointed to the back door and scowled at him. “OUT!”
Apparently he’d crossed a line. He bowed and in a low whisper said, “My apologies, Miss Lennox. I shall pay you handsomely for your time and assistance.”
The shrewd modiste stepped up closer and for his ears only said, “It’s gonna cost ye more than blunt, my lord. Ye now owe me a boon of me own choosin’.”
“A boon?” Fear tricked down his spine. “What type of boon?”
“Ye don’t have to worry. I’ll not ask of ye to do anythin’ that’ll get ye into too much trouble.”
The twinkle in the shop keeper's eyes made him tremble in his boots. Mayhap pretending to be destitute was going a tad too far to find a wife. Bah. Not much he could do now. The plan was in motion with half the ton’s notorious gossips present on the other side of the curtain.
Miss Lennox snapped her fingers in front of his nose. “Lord Harlowe?”
He blinked and the young shop keeper came back into focus. “One boon, but it must be claimed prior to the end of the Season.”
“Agreed.” Miss Lennox turned and slipped through the curtains, muttering her lines of fabricated threats of hiring debt collectors from the Dials and no longer extending credit to gentlemen of his ilk.
Ambrose let himself out the back door, leaving behind him the chatter of women eagerly offering reassurances that their accounts would be paid in full. If anything, hopefully his scheme would ease Miss Lennox’s burden; after reviewing her accounts, she still had a sizable portion of debts owed from the prior Season. Ambrose’s fists balled at his side. He hated that his peers took advantage of others. Needing to hit something, he decided to set off for the pugilist club where he could take out some of his anger at the fools who carelessly managed their estates and lived off the kindness of others.
Ambrose walked up to his awaiting carriage in the back alley and called up to his driver. “Go round front and wait for Miss Alice and Lady Daphne. Take them directly home.”
“Aye, my lord.”
He walked to the corner and peered around to the front of Miss Lennox’s shop, where Alice and Daphne exited arm-in-arm, chins held high. Fustian. The girls shouldn’t have had to bear the gossips alone. Girls? He blinked and shook his head. Alice and Daphne were no longer girls, they were five-and-twenty. Where had the years gone?
Alice caught him peeking around the corner and gave him a wink. Thank the heavens, his sister wasn’t angry. In fact, she looked happy—happier than she had been in weeks. And whenever Alice was smiling, so was Daphne. Ambrose tried to tear his gaze away from the sweet curve of Daphne’s lips but failed. He couldn’t stop spying on Daphne, seeing her in a totally new light. He waited until they were both safely tucked away in his carriage before stepping out of the alley to head toward his boxing club. Maybe a hard hit to the head might do him some good. Set him straight. But his mind was fixated on Daphne’s pretty pink lips, and for a brief moment he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to resist. For the first time, he truly struggled not to give into temptation and discover what it would be like to have Daphne’s body pressed up against him and her mouth upon his. He was in trouble. He shouldn’t be lusting after his little sister’s best friend. It felt like stealing from Alice.
CHAPTERTWO
Arms crossed, Lady Daphne Wilcock closed her eyes and attempted to ignore the whispers behind her. Since her previous visit to the shop that morning, gossip mounted like a tidal wave of how Alice’s brother—the gentleman who constantly ignored Daphne, Ambrose Kirkman, the beastly baron of Harlowe, though granted she was the only one who referred to him as a beast—had put the family back into dun territory. Daphne froze in fear that Alice might once again avoid her. When Alice’s father lost the Harlowe fortune in a game of cards over a decade before, Alice had distanced herself, claiming she would tarnish Daphne’s reputation and ruin Daphne’s chances at marriage. Except Daphne had already given her heart to the beast and had decided that nothing would ever break their bond as friends. She had worked tirelessly for months to regain Alice’s trust and to not give up on their friendship a decade ago, and she wasn’t about to lose her friend again. Hearing the gossip explained why Alice had been acting peculiar since their arrival in Town after spending the summer apart. Alice at the Harlowes’ country estate in Surrey, and Daphne trapped by the shore in Brighton.
Daphne spun around and crossed the crowded shop floor. She’d promised herself that this Season was to be one where she took control. No longer willing to sit idle and wait for matters to unfold, Daphne located a seamstress in one of the alcoves used for fittings. “I’d like to speak to Miss Lennox.”
The seamstress bobbed her head and curtsied before scurrying off to disappear behind the curtains.
Not long after that, that Miss Lennox greeted her, “Lady Daphne, you requested to see me.”
Daphne waved the modiste closer. “Add the expense for the lace that Miss Alice requested to my account.”
Miss Lennox looked back at her with big, wide eyes. “I can’t charge it to your account.” The shopkeeper shook her head. “Your father is meticulous. He’ll take notice and dispute amounts owed…or mayhap accuse me of…”
Daphne acknowledged the modiste’s dilemma and interrupted. “I’ll have a footman deliver the coin this afternoon.” Daphne attempted to adopt her mother’sAnswer me truthfullylook and added, “How much is Lord Harlowe indebted to you?”
Miss Lennox stared hard at her then reached into her skirts and withdrew a tiny book. She flipped through the pages and landed on a middling page and read, “Harlowe. A yellow boy for last season and four bob fer the lace.”
A yellow boy! She closed her eyes and calculated the sum she needed. Twenty-five shillings!! That was more than a Season’s worth of pin money. How fortunate that she’d rarely spent any of her generous allowance over the years, only indulging in the purchase of a book or two… mayhap four a year. Finally, she could repay Alice and the beast for saving her from the social piranhas over the years. Being a late bloomer meant there were many years spent along the walls of ballrooms when Alice’s dance card was full. And on the rare occasions Ambrose did make an appearance, he never failed to ask her to dance.
Miss Lennox snapped her notebook closed. “Even if ye did pay Harlowe’s debt, there is still the matter of this season’s gowns.”
Miss Lennox had a point. And if Ambrose owed the modiste such a large sum, he must owe the milliner, the haberdasher, and God knew who else.
Miss Lennox tapped her nose with her forefinger and then clasped both hands behind her back. “Wot Harlowe needs is to find himself a wife with a large dowry… a sizable one at that, and quick.” The modiste shook her head. “Tis a shame. For Harlowe’s one of the few gentlemen that seemed to care more for the family than themselves.” Miss Lennox shifted to leave.
Daphne took a step and blocked her path. “A sizable dowry, you say. How is it that you are privy to such details?”
