A Scandalous Countess: A Novel of the Malloren World (7 page)

“Put her up for auction? Not the way to treat such a horse.”

“I agree, but I’ve less need of a fine mare than I have of a fine stallion. If you were to pay her value…”

The earl pinched his heavy lower lip. “Cash is damned hard to come by these days, Dracy. You must know that. The war, the prices. Things are bad all around.” He pushed out of his chair and went to the decanter. “One of my younger sons has proven expensive.”

He waved the bottle at Dracy, but he declined, wondering where this was leading.

The earl sat down again. “I could sell some unentailed land, but it’s a wicked thing to sell land. Wicked. A betrayal of our ancestors who gathered it.”

“I agree, sir,” Dracy said, thinking of the unentailed land Ceddie had sold, but also trying to anticipate what was coming.

Lieutenant Arthur Perriam, RN’s gambling debts were no surprise, nor was the earl’s opinion about the sacred trust of land. Both had been part of his calculations. Hernescroft was steering a careful course of his own, however, and Dracy didn’t like the fact that he had no idea what it was.

“I have another exchange to propose.”

“Yes, sir?”

Hernescroft drank. Delaying?

“A different kind of filly, but worth more than Fancy Free. Much more.”

Dracy chose to be merely attentive.

“My daughter.”

“Your
daughter
?”

“Her
portion’s twelve thousand. You could buy a herd of stallions for that. You’ll have to sign settlements for a widow’s jointure of two thousand a year and give her generous pin money, but the twelve thousand will be yours, cash in hand, upon your wedding day. It’s a more than fair exchange.”

“It is indeed,” Dracy said, feeling as if he’d been navigating a tricky shore and been ambushed by a dense fog.

“I’m speaking of my youngest girl, Lady Maybury. A widow, but ripe to marry again.”

Titian hair.

Laughing, minxish beauty.

Wicked, wanton doxy.

Attached to that lady the word “ripe” was alarming, and this offer was astounding. He was no match for an earl’s well-dowried daughter.

“You’ll have heard of her,” the earl prompted.

“She was pointed out to me at the race.”

“Devil take the chit!” the earl exploded. “Dressed in breeches to boot. I’ll give Pranksworth a piece of my mind for bringing her, but he’ll say she’d have come anyway. Headstrong, headstrong. But,” he added quickly, “not leather-mouthed and no true vice in her.”

The fog had parted a little, but only to reveal jagged rocks.

“Not an attractive package,” Dracy said, remembering his pity of the man who had to tame her.

Surprisingly, the earl laughed. “Is she not? Then why are half the men in England drooling after her? That’s my problem, Dracy. She plans to marry again. Only natural at twenty.”

“Twenty!” Dracy exclaimed. He’d imagined such a sinful jade to be much older.

“Married her off at sixteen. Maybury was well known to us and had just come into his earldom. He was only
nineteen, but his mother and guardians were keen to see him wedlocked before he reached his majority and married a doxy.”

Dracy kept the obvious comment to himself.

“Couldn’t manage her, of course. Encouraged her in folly, if the truth is told. The fool liked her causing talk. Lady May, the beau monde dubbed her, but we thought she’d settle once she had children. That didn’t happen, and then there was the Vance affair.”

“Vance?”

“Sir Charnley Vance,” the earl said. “The one who killed Maybury in a duel. You’ll have heard of that?”

“Only a snippet, at the race.” Dracy had the distinct impression that Hernescroft wished he’d not mentioned it.

“Ah, well, overseas when it happened, I suppose. Plaguey business all around.”

“Was this Vance her lover, my lord? I wouldn’t normally ask such a question, but as the lady is being proposed to me as wife…”

“She swears not, and I’d say that for all her faults, she’s truthful. Never sought to hide any other sins,” Hernescroft added with a scowl.

“Then why would her husband call this Vance out?”

“Devil alone knows. A greater piece of folly I’ve never seen. The story was Maybury had clashed wheels with a wagon during some madcap race. Vance taunted him and it exploded into a challenge. Men have met for less, but Maybury was an easygoing fellow, so people talked. Gossip always chooses the dirty path, and word spread that they fought over my daughter. Then that Vance was her lover. Some of the men who were present at the argument claimed her name came into it, but they all admitted to being deep in drink.”

“I appreciate your frankness, my lord. Permit me to be equally frank in return. Your daughter’s portion would be useful to me, and in monetary terms it’s many
times the value of Fancy Free. But when I choose a wife I’ll choose one likely to give me tranquil days and make me a comfortable home.” He suddenly thought of something else. “She’s borne no children?”

“None.”

“How long was she married?”

“Three and a half years.”

“I would also want a wife who could fill a nursery. My apologies, but Lady Maybury fails to meet my requirements in any way.”

“Does she indeed?” Hernescroft took something out of his pocket to pass over.

It was a miniature, and for a moment, it stopped Dracy’s heart.

By God.

Here was the woman he’d glimpsed at a distance, but now she looked out at him with a mischievous invitation. Sparkling sea green eyes, full smiling lips, a flawless complexion, and that abundance of Titian red hair, in this case threaded carelessly with pearls.

True beauties were rare, but if the picture was honest, the wicked Countess of Maybury was one. His visceral reaction was a warning shot across the bow. A sensible man would turn and run, but he’d never been sensible in that way.

He forced his eyes away and looked at the earl. “Why would this woman want to marry me?”

“She’ll do as she’s told.”

Dracy doubted that.

“You don’t seem shy of a gamble, Dracy. No saying who was to blame for the empty nursery.”

“A tranquil wife and comfortable home?”

Hernescroft chuckled. “Are you sure you want that? You’ve lived an eventful life and might not take to being becalmed.”

He was impressed with the earl’s insight. Dracy had cursed the condition of his new estate and the work it
involved, but did he really aspire to live as placidly as Knowlton? Constant storms were unpleasant, but constant calm could drive men mad.

“What of the scandal? Will she be accepted back in society?”

“She’s still my daughter, and nothing was proved against her. On our advice, she’s spent her mourning year here, living quietly in seclusion, letting it all die down. She still has many friends and admirers. At least two of the men here today are drawn as much by the hope of seeing her as by the race. She’ll probably soon be the darling of Town again, and there’s the rub.” The earl took another mouthful of wine and almost chewed it. “I’ll have her tied to a solid, decent husband before she picks a blackguard.”

“You know I’m solid and decent?”

“I’ve made inquiries.”

Ah. The fog had almost cleared, but the jagged shore still threatened, and now an enemy warship had appeared.

Hernescroft had been playing as deep a game over the race as he. Had he planned to lose, even arranged to lose?

No, that would be against the earl’s nature in all respects, but he could have seen a way where he would win, whatever the result. Win the race and gain Carta. Lose, and rid himself of a troublesome daughter while still keeping Fancy Free.

Tempting to call his bluff and take Fancy Free anyway.

Foolish, though. In strictly practical terms, twelve thousand pounds would be a gift of the gods. It would buy a prize stallion and a few good mares as well as dealing with most of the necessary repairs.

A widow’s jointure of two thousand a year was ridiculously high for an estate such as his, but he could hope Dracy would be in fine state when that came due many decades hence. The generous pin money would have to be cut and any extravagance curtailed, but as he and his
wife would be living quietly in the country, that shouldn’t be a hardship for her.

She wouldn’t like it, though, and a bitter wife was a hard burden.

Was he even considering this?

Yes.

It was a gamble, indeed it was, and one that would affect his whole life, but the sea was a chancier wench than any woman, and he had a way with women, even now.

He looked again at the miniature.

A siren. No, they’d been ugly and drawn sailors to their doom by song. Circe had been the beautiful enchantress encountered by Odysseus, but she’d turned his men into swine.

This one had turned a husband into a corpse.

“You can’t be expected to make your decision without a meeting,” the earl said, breaking the enchantment. “We’ll be dining soon, and she’ll be present. Join us. Only an informal meal for the men here for the race and those wives who accompanied them. You’ll know the men from racing circles.…”

Dracy realized he was still staring at the miniature. He returned it.

“Keep it for now if you wish,” Hernescroft said.

“No, thank you.”

The earl laughed. “Wise man. But you’re the type she needs. A man of iron, used to command.”

“Keelhauling and the cat-o’-nine-tails?”

The earl laughed. “No, no, but a switch now and then might do her good. Kept her in line as a girl. Come along, then, come along, and judge for yourself.”

A part of Dracy wanted to walk away from this treacherous bargain while he still had his wits, but he couldn’t resist an encounter. After all, he was in no danger.

The scandalous Lady Maybury would have no interest in an impoverished scarred sailor, and once the earl accepted that, he’d find a way to pay the money.

Chapter 4

The loud knock at her boudoir door startled Georgia into blotting her letter. Before she could respond, her mother had entered the room.

“Georgia? Ah, there you are. You are to dress and go down to dinner.”

Rising hastily she curtsied to her mother. “What? Why?”