Page 63 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
“James Barnaby. Forgive the intrusion and my ill manners for introducing myself.”
Rothbury looked up, his face betraying mild surprise before settling into polite acknowledgment. “Mr. Barnaby. I know you by reputation, of course.”
“Only good, I hope.” Barnaby laughed, though there was a strained quality to it.
“My father was acquainted with yours, I believe,” Rothbury replied neutrally.
Henry shifted slightly, angling himself to better observe. There was something calculated in Barnaby’s approach that set his instincts on alert. And a frostiness in Rothbury’s tone that Henry wouldn’t have expected.
“Might I join you? There’s a matter with which I believe you can assist me.”
Without waiting for a response, Barnaby settled into the chair opposite. “I understand your father was steward to the Playford family for some years.”
Rothbury’s expression remained unchanged, but there was a curious stillness that conveyed his reluctance for this company.
“He was.”
The reserve, which bordered on hostility, did not escape Henry.
“For decades, in fact!” Barnaby spoke with forced bonhomie. “What a remarkable friendship must have been built up between your father and that of my intended’s dear friend.” He paused to accept a whisky from a footman.
When Rothbury didn’t reply, Barnaby continued, “I am to be married to Miss Charlotte Ashworth, if you did not know.” After a slight pause, during which congratulations were clearly expected but not forthcoming, he went on, “And that is the reason I have accosted you like this.”
Rothbury looked as if he were patiently waiting for Barnaby to get to the point.
“You see, my dear Charlotte is concerned for her friend, Miss Playford, and asked me if I could reassure her as to Miss Playford’s…” he hesitated, clearly for effect, “future safety. I am sure your late father would have been just as concerned to be reassured that Miss Playford’s future was not being… manipulated… by the wrong parties.”
Rothbury toyed with his empty glass, the crystal catching the light. “Please speak plainly, Mr. Barnaby. I have no idea what you are insinuating.”
Barnaby did not take this well but retained his easy manner. “My apologies. I merely wished not to cast public aspersions since we are in a public place. But if you are happy for meto speak plainly, then there are two reasons for Charlotte—and consequently myself—to have grave fears for Miss Playford’s future.”
Rothbury did not prompt him, clearly making this as awkward a conversation as possible.
“Mr. Henry Ashworth.”
Henry nearly dropped his glass to hear his name spoken so clearly. Barnaby had done a poor job scanning for prying ears. He brought his newspaper up higher and hunched lower in his chair.
“A worthy bridegroom,” Rothbury said, betraying nothing.
“A man mired in scandal,” Barnaby countered to Henry’s disgust. “Charlotte is distraught that her friend is too frightened to break off the engagement for fear of reprisals from Mr. Ashworth.”
Henry tried not to let his anger draw attention to himself.
“I think your betrothed must be of a somewhat nervous nature.” Rothbury’s tone dripped scorn.
“It is not the womanizing I refer to. Rather, it is the financial irregularities. Charlotte fears this will all come to light too late as the marriage is planned for five days’ time.”
“I do not think the fears harbored by your betrothed have any grounds in reality.”
Barnaby leaned forward, lowering his voice to a confidential murmur that nonetheless carried to Henry. “Perhaps you’ve not heard of the wager in White’s betting book? A rather substantial sum placed against young Ashworth’s financial ruin before the month is out. The names in that book would astonish you—men who don’t make such bets lightly.”
Rothbury’s posture stiffened visibly. “Such wagers are the province of idle men with too much money and too little sense.”
“Yet one whisper becomes truth when enough important men believe it so.” Barnaby waited for a response. “It is wellknown that Miss Playford has no dowry. This is her third season out, and as she does not wish to reside permanently as some lowly companion to her Aunt Pike, she’s prepared to marry against her natural inclinations.”
Rothbury shifted uncomfortably. “I think we should not speak of Miss Playford’s personal matters in public.”
But Barnaby was just getting into his stride. “If Miss Playford were to find herself irrevocably tied to a husband she does not love, only to then discover she’s the recipient of an enormous inheritance, would that not be a travesty of justice?”
