How to Marry a Rake (2 page)

Stephen bristled. ‘Why not?’

‘The man’s an elitist. A racing snob. Some of the old guard is like that, you know—if you haven’t been breeding and racing since the time of Charles II, then you are nothing. And Ryeton’s the worst. He decries the entrance of the
nouveau riche
or even the newly interested into his snug little world.’ He made another dismissive sound. ‘Although he’s not above taking their money.’

Stephen’s jaw tightened in determination. ‘I have to try. This plan is the best and quickest way to Fincote’s success.’

‘Try, then.’ Landry sighed. ‘But you would do best not to hint at an association with me. It won’t do you any good in Ryeton’s eyes.’

‘It’s as bad as that?’

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ The viscount stood tall and smoothed his coat. A footman sidled by, heading into the ballroom with a full tray of champagne flutes, and Landry reached out and snagged two as he passed. He handed one to Stephen and held his aloft. ‘Success to us both,’ he toasted.

‘And my thanks for the advice.’ Stephen took a sip and watched as Landry drained his in one long drink.

‘Ah, the music begins again.’ Landry handed his empty glass to a footman positioned just outside the ballroom door. The poor man looked at him and at it in
bemusement. ‘It is our call to the start, Manning.’ He tossed a last cheeky grin as he moved forwards to melt into the crowd. ‘And we’re off.’

Stephen laughed, then he squared his shoulders and slid into the crowd in another direction. The race had indeed begun. And he did not mean to lose.

Miss Mae Halford hovered at the entrance to Lord Toswick’s ballroom, a smile quirking at the corners of her mouth, a sense of anticipatory excitement swelling in her breast. Tension stretched tight across her shoulders and settled into the valley between, but she welcomed it. She was a soldier, and the glittering battlefield lay before her.

‘Don’t worry, dear,’ her mother said at her elbow. ‘Your father has
promised
not to abandon us until we’ve mingled a bit and made the acquaintance of the right sort of people.’

Mae patted her mother’s hand. ‘I’m not worried a bit, Mama,’ she said reassuringly. But she couldn’t fault her mother’s anxiety. Anyone looking from the outside would judge that the pair had plenty to worry about.

Despite his promises, her father had already spotted his cronies and surged ahead. In less than thirty seconds they’d all be up to their haunches in horse talk. He’d be useless this evening, even as Mae prepared to attempt the impossible.

After a rocky entry into young womanhood and a subsequent two years abroad, Mae Halford was about to worm her way back into the stifling and rarified atmosphere of English society. And she was going to do it without the benefit of a title or family connections.
Her father was a vastly successful businessman, a man whose two abiding passions—making money and spending it on thoroughbred racing horses—left precious little time or attention for aught else. Her mother, the daughter of a shopkeeper, had caught Barty Halford before he became richer than Croesus. Even after all these years she still had not reconciled herself to her role as a wealthy man’s wife, or become comfortable socialising with those she still considered her betters.

But all was not doom and dire gloom. After all, Mae’s father was not just wealthy, he was
obscenely
wealthy, and that fact was bound to open a door or two. Her personal assets were not totally lacking either. Wit came easily to her and immersion in European salons had taught her how to temper it into charm. She had her mother’s pretty blue eyes, blond hair with a hint of a strawberry tint and a bosom that her knowing French maid assured her was just large enough without straying into vulgarity.

Without a doubt, though, Mae knew that her biggest asset lay between her ears, not inside her bodice. Her father called her a
thinker
and bemoaned the fact that she had not been born a son. She
had
been born a planner, an organiser and a strategist. They were characteristics that would indeed have been ideally suited to her father’s son, but which had so far proven largely lamentable in a daughter. She meant to put them to good use now. For she stood on the verge of her greatest project, her most important scheme—her Marriage Campaign.

‘Mrs Halford, I’m so glad you decided to come down and join us.’ Their hostess approached with a smile.
‘You can hardly have recovered your land legs, so soon from your voyage, but I promise that you shall enjoy yourself. I know several ladies who are interested in hearing about your travels.’

‘Thank you, my lady.’ Mae’s mother relaxed a bit under the countess’s kind attention.

‘I see your husband is as well occupied as mine.’ Lady Toswick rolled her eyes at the knot of gentlemen gathered in a corner. She turned a smile upon Mae. ‘But I hope your daughter will be happy to learn that she has an acquaintance among my house guests.’

‘I’m thrilled to hear it, Lady Toswick,’ Mae answered with a smile. ‘And curious, too.’

‘Yes, as am I,’ her mother agreed. Her eyes darted nervously around the room. ‘We’ve been abroad so long and this is our first social engagement since we’ve been back in England. Who could it be?’

‘A school friend, I understand. Lady Corbet. Although as she is newly married, I’m sure you’ll remember her as Miss Adelaide Ward.’

‘Oh, Addy! Yes, of course. I remember her fondly.’

‘Well, you’ll find her at the dancing, I’m sure.’ Lady Toswick was searching the ballroom with a practised eye. ‘Yes, there, she’s just ending a set. Oh, and she’s spotted us!’ The countess tucked her mother’s arm firmly through her own. ‘Go and enjoy your reunion, Miss Halford. My friends and I are all agog to tease your mother until she tells us where she purchased the gorgeous silk for her gown.’

Mae smiled encouragement and watched her mother follow alongside the countess before turning to meet Lady Corbet—Addy. She grinned at the spectacle
her old friend made as she squealed her way across the ballroom, flapping her hands as she came. Miss Trippet of The Select School for Young Girls had not succeeded in squelching Addy’s vivaciousness any more than she’d cured Mae’s tendency to organise her schoolgirls into trouble.

‘Oh, Mae, it is you!’ Addy clasped her by the hands and squeezed. ‘How elegant you are! Is that waistline the latest Paris fashion?’ She stood back and examined Mae from head to toe. ‘You are going to put every girl in London to shame.’ She grinned. ‘I’m so glad you are back!’

‘Addy,’ Mae said warmly. ‘How glad I am to see you.’ She pulled her old friend in for a quick embrace. ‘You are practically the first person I’ve seen since we docked!’ She raised a brow. ‘And Lady Toswick says that you are newly married? Congratulations!’

‘Yes, I am a wife now—can you believe it? To Lord Corbet. He’s only a baron, which disappointed Papa, of course.’ Addy’s father was a wealthy cit like Mae’s, as were so many fathers of the girls at Miss Trippet’s school. ‘He can be the greatest dunderhead at times,’ she continued, ‘but he’s
my
dunderhead.’ The smile that crossed her face was tender. ‘Just as I am his addlepate. I confess, I am quite fond of him.’

‘Then I am supremely happy for you.’ And a tad envious, too. Mae could only hope that she found someone as willing to overlook her own flaws. ‘Is your husband here tonight? I should love to meet him.’

‘Oh, yes. He’s likely slunk off to the card room. We’ll go and drag him out of there in a moment.’ She frowned. The surrounding crowd had grown steadily
larger and was pressing ever closer. ‘But first, I have to hear everything. There were rumours, you know, about you and a young man, but no one seemed to know who he might be—and then you were gone! Come. Let’s go sit in the chaperons’ chairs. We can put our heads together and gossip like a couple of old biddies.’

She pulled Mae through the glittering spectacle and over to a row of straight-backed chairs. She chose a pair well away from the closest, capped matrons. ‘Were the whispers true, then?’ Addy leaned in close. ‘Was there a completely ineligible young man ready to cart you away to Gretna Green? Did your parents whisk you to Europe in order to keep you from his clutches?’

‘Of course not!’ There had been nothing ineligible about the young man in question. And while Mae would gladly have travelled with him to the ends of the earth, he hadn’t been interested enough to walk her in to dinner, let alone willing to run off to get married.

‘Oh.’ Addy sounded vastly disappointed. ‘Well, it was a long time ago, in any case.’ She cocked her head. ‘How long
have
you been abroad?’

‘Nearly two years.’

‘So long? You must have been pining to come home.’

Mae laughed. ‘Not at all, actually.’ She smiled in reminiscence. ‘I had the making of all the travel arrangements to myself. My father cared not where we went, as long as there was an opportunity for business or a reputable horse breeder nearby. My mother only worried over the comfort of our rooms. So I was free to indulge myself.’ She shot a conspirator’s grin at her friend. ‘And I did. I simply wallowed in great churches
and grand palaces and large estates. I explored battlefields and boated in lakes and rivers all over Europe. I attended theatres and salons in every great city and met scores of interesting people.’

None, however, who could completely erase the image of the man she’d left behind. Such a man did exist, however. He was out there—and Mae fully intended to find him.

‘But now you are back,’ Addy said with satisfaction. A crafty look descended over her pretty face. ‘And I’d wager you’re here because your father decided it was time to find you a husband.’ Her eyes rounded suddenly in horror. ‘But the Season is nearly half over! There’s no time to waste! You should have gone straight to London! Whatever are you doing in Newmarket, when there are husbands to be hunted?’

Laughing, Mae agreed. ‘We have left it a bit late, haven’t we?’ She leaned in, as Addy had done before. ‘We are in Newmarket, dear, because my father has brought home a most promising new filly. He means to race her in the Guineas—and he expects her to make a name for herself. He has grand plans to let her win a few important races and then pull in a fortune breeding future champions off of her.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Truthfully, although Father says it’s time I had a husband, I believe he is at least as concerned about searching out a stud to cover that filly as he is about finding one for me.’

Addy gasped. Then she let out a peal of shocked laughter. ‘You haven’t changed a bit, Mae Halford!’

‘Oh, but I have. I’ve grown up—and I’ve had the value of being circumspect forced down my gullet.’
She smirked. ‘I’m still me. I still analyse and organise and plan, but now I know how to make it look socially acceptable.’

Addy stared. ‘Oh! I know that look. You had the exact same gleam in your eye when you organised Miss Trippet’s girls to boycott the painting master.’

‘Something had to be done,’ Mae protested. ‘He was beyond appalling—coming in from behind to critique our work and sneaking unnecessary touches. The last straw was when he tried to convince poor Esther that posing nude was the only way to prove her dedication to art.’

‘And now you are trying to distract me! You
are
scheming something.’ Addy nearly glowed with mischief. ‘You must allow me to help. It’ll be as if we were girls again.’

‘This is no girl’s crusade. It’s far more important.’ Mae knew enough now to tamp down the enthusiasm in her voice. ‘I’m just as happy to be in Newmarket, for while my father is distracted with his horses, I intend to map out a plan for my future.’ She cocked her head at Addy’s surprised expression. ‘And why should I not? Should I leave it to my father? He used to say he wished me to be a lady, but I think he’s given it up. He’s determined to fire me off, and of course, he’s correct—if I were a man I would be using my talents learning the family business.’ She sighed. ‘Such is not my fate—and as marriage is, then I’m determined to have a say in it.’

Addy nodded, impressed.

‘What frightens me is that Papa spends more time poring over the Stud Book than his Debrett’s. I’m afraid
he’ll hand me right over to the first man to come along and offer land with a good ore vein or a favourable shipping contract.’

‘Or the owner of the best-blooded stallion.’ Addy giggled.

‘Exactly.’ Except that this was no laughing matter. This was Mae’s life’s happiness at stake. She had to at least try to find someone who could accept her as she was. She’d been battling her whole life, fighting to keep from being squeezed into a stultifying society mould. She didn’t want to spend a lifetime fighting her husband as well.

There must be at least one gentleman in England who would not be offended or threatened by her … abilities. Mae was determined to find him.

‘What do you mean to do?’

‘What I do best. Careful planning and brilliant manoeuvring.’

‘You sound like a general.’ Addy sounded awed.

‘I
am
a general. Make no mistake, Addy. This is war. And this …’ she gestured to the brilliant, seething scene in front of them ‘… this is merely the first skirmish. Tonight I begin to gather intelligence. There can be no strategy without sufficient information.’

‘I never thought I would feel sorry for society’s single gentlemen. They can have no idea what is about to hit them.’ Abruptly Addy reached out and grasped her hand. ‘You’ll do brilliantly.’ The warmth and reassurance in her voice touched Mae. ‘You’ve never failed to accomplish what you set out to do.’ She stood. ‘You shall command the campaign and I will be your loyal
assistant.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Now, let’s go and find my husband. He can be our first source of information.’

Willingly, Mae followed, glad that Addy had turned away to search out a path through the crowd. For she was wrong. Mae had indeed known failure—and in the one chase that had meant more than all the others together.

Unbidden, her mind’s eye turned inwards, to where she’d locked away her remembrances like a horde of treasure. Laughing blue eyes slipped out. A heated embrace, incredibly soft lips. She made a small sound and gathered her determination, closing her eyes against a flood of similarly wistful recollections. Stephen Manning hadn’t wanted her. He was her past. And tonight was only about her future.