Page 12 of Courting Trouble
She would never have given Blandbury a second glance if it hadn’t been for her father’s welcome home three days prior, delivered with a stern edict that’d stolen any light from her heart.
Clarence Goode, Baron Cresthaven, had always cowed her. But never so much as when she was made to stand before the desk he’d mounted on a massive dais in his study, simply so he could look down at people as if from behind the Queen’s Bench in court. He was a veritable force of nature, tall and broad, but not in the way that Titus had become. Not with that lean strength and effortless grace. Her father was a rotund man with the dimensions of a whiskey barrel and the hands of a cooper, rather than a nobleman.
He had stared down at her with a disapproval she hadn’t yet earned, regarding her with an assessment any ewe at auction might still find insulting.
“Every man wishes for a boy to take on his legacy,” he’d begun, stroking at his impressive mustache as if delivering a homily of great import. “Since your mother and I were not so blessed with an heir, that doesn’t change the nature of the necessity. Were you a son, you’d be groomed to take over my title and my company. I’d apprentice you to the shipping trade and school you in politics so you would be a pinnacle of the Tories.” His eyes had taken on a dreamy cast then, as if this was a pleasant fiction he visited often in daydreams.
Nora hadn’t been able to contain a sneeze, and the sound brought his disapproving gaze squarely back to her. He made it immediately clear her sinuses were not the only part of her body he currently found offensive. “As you are a woman, you haven’t the constitution nor the intellect for such matters, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a duty to uphold to your family as firstborn.”
Nora hadn’t known what to say to that, so she kept her own council. Brevity wasn’t among her father’s repertoire, so she settled in for a lengthy diatribe.
“If our legacy is to advance, then you must marry well, as you know. I am spending a veritable fortune on this upcoming ball to put you out in society, and it is incumbent upon you to make a match in your first season, to make way for Prudence. You and your sister shouldn’t be coming out so close together, but I suppose that couldn’t be helped what with the entire year it took you to gain your strength after your contracting that dastardly fever.”
He said this as if fevers were an affliction of the morally degenerate, and indeed, they’d treated her as such for quite some time after her illness.
Perhaps if she hadn’t collapsed at the garden party she’d been forced to attend at Buckingham Palace, against the doctor’s wishes, she’d have not been so thusly berated.
Her father continued, picking up a pen and opening a folder to study its contents as if the conversation was not important enough to keep his complete attention. “With your charm and beauty, and your competitive dowry, you could snag a Duke if you set your cap to one. There being a marked shortage of marriageable Dukes, I’ve been talking to the Marquess of Blandbury regarding his son, Michael. It is understood between his father and me, that you will have a proposal at next month’s end after no fewer than four social outings with him.”
At that, her stomach had lurched, and she’d had to stabilize herself by gripping the high-backed chair she had not been invited to sit in. “But, Papa…how can I be all but promised before I’ve even had a chance to—”
He stood then, startling her into silence. “You’ve always been an amenable girl, Honoria. Something I’ve admired in you. Don’t let us disappoint now.” He’d moved to the window to stare out over his view of the West End. “With the Marquess as an ally, I could finally clinch the support of the Home Secretary and get my hands on the Metropolitan Police Commissioner position. That done, I’d run the most powerful organized force in the Empire that isn’t military.”
And that’s what it was all about to him.
Power. Prestige. Clout.
She’d be bargained away so her father could play at having a force of minions that would make him feel as though the city belonged to him.
And her buyer wasthisincomparable idiot who hadn’t so much as allowed her a word in edgewise for going on ten minutes now.
Nora took in a breath as deep as her constricting peach gown would allow, and tried to listen to what the braggart was saying. Something about what he and his awful society of Oxford friends did to prank the unsuspecting acquaintances of their parents.
He talked too loudly with irritating animation, his eyes alight with self-satisfaction. “You see, it’s not stealing, what we do. It’s merely a lark. We don’t take jewels or silver, because what’s the fun in that? We all have plenty of our own, and often such items won’t be missed for days or weeks. However, the lads and I pilfer small portraits or love letters, bank notices or diaries. You know, things that are impossible to replace. Then, we sit back and watch the mayhem ensue. One time, Lady Birmingham sacked her entire household!”
He brayed with laughter while Nora’s insides twisted.
“That’s…horrible,” she gasped.
“Nah.” He waved his hand in front of his face as if batting away her rebuke. “It’s harmless mostly.”
“Not if people are losing their positions. That’s how they make their living. How they feed their families.”
He rolled his eyes. “They’ll find another. Who wants to be a servant, anyhow?”
She stared at him, aghast, before finding her voice. “I’m sure no one fantasizes about a life in servitude, but as you’re aware, it’s a vocation of distinction to work in a noble house. Not to mention a far sight better for many than the dangerous work at the factories, and—”
“Oh,pleasedon’t tell me you’re one of those people in thetonwho fancy themselves aliberal,” he sneered, leaning his hip on the banister.
“I don’t know what I am,” she replied honestly. “I merely fail to see how being so unkind is considered entertaining.”
Rather than allow her rebuke to riffle him, he leaned closer, his pale blue eyes darkening with lurid notions. “I’d be kind to you, if you’d let me.”
Suddenly she was very aware that her side of the railing abutted a wall, and that no one could see them out here unless they came through the doors and turned in their direction. “Oh. Well that’s—”
He leaned closer. “I’d be downright generous…if you’d return the favor.”
She cleared a gather of nerves from her throat. “I can’t possibly know what you mean.”
