The Baron’s Betrothal: An On-Again, Off-Again, On-Again Regency Romance (The Horsemen of the Apocalypse Series) (43 page)

The following year, Seelye’s father purchased a commission for him in the Royal Horse Guards Blue of the Household Cavalry. For the next decade, Lord Seelye distinguished himself first in the Peninsular Campaign and later in Napoleon’s final defeat as one of the vaunted Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

With his golden good looks, ready wit and refined taste, Lord Seelye returned from war in the summer of 1815 a gilded hero and quickly established himself as a much-envied and emulated beau of the
ton
.
 

For months thereafter, Lady Jane’s path never crossed Lord Seelye’s. As a result, Jane’s vow and youthful infatuation lasted until the spring of 1816 when the two spoke at a private ball in Mayfair.

Seelye happened upon her, stared at her through his quizzing glass, coughed and laughed a little laugh, before saying, “Why if it isn’t Lady Jane Babcock, I’d have hardly recognized you all clean and shiny. You’ve grown into a terrifying beauty, I hear. The Ice Maiden, brrrrrr. You do have a cold look about you. I’ve also heard you’ve frozen any number of men, that is, when you didn’t lash them bloody with your tongue.”
 

His tone mocked, his hangers-on chortled. London’s wittiest beau was giving the feared ‘Ice Maiden’ a well-deserved set down, something few dared to do but many prayed to see done.
 

Her temper stepped in when the shock might’ve left her vulnerable.

“Given your well-publicized courage on the battlefield, Lord Seelye, I’d have thought no one terrified you.”
 

“And I regret to admit, you’d be wrong. Your saber-tongued reputation makes me positively quake.”
 

His claque chortled in amusement and stoked Jane’s hot temper to its melting point.
 

 
“And I would hardly have known you, Seelye,” Jane retorted. “There is such a surfeit of wastrel lordlings outliving their good name and credit in London nowadays, it’s hard to distinguish one fribble drowning in the River Tick from another.”

Eavesdroppers and onlookers whistled and murmured as the two squared off.

“I take exception to that. I am not a fribble but a man of decided fashion, at least it is that to which I aspire in my own poor way.” Here, his lordship flicked nonexistent lint off his exquisitely tailored cutaway coat of midnight superfine. “As such, I must live up to expectations. After all, many second sons live on credit and their names,” he said, with a steely note in his offhand reply. “It’s the way of our class and I for one am no revolutionary. But sheath your tongue, sister-in-law, we ought not lob cross words back and forth to amuse ourselves, much less others. Will you accept my olive branch and walk with me?”
 

He offered her his arm and gave her a hard look that she dared not defy. She took it and he led her off to continue their spat out of earshot.
 

“Be thankful you are female, Jane. You may live your life as an overindulged chit to whom everything comes easily because you are well born, well heeled and passably well made.”

“And yet I strive to be more.”

“Duchess, perhaps? You you mustn’t set your cap at Ainsworth, old thing,” Seelye concluded rudely, “For that will never happen, ne-ver.”

“I could if I wanted to,” she retorted and resolved to bring the duke to heel just to teach Seelye a lesson. “But I prefer to expend my energy in a worthwhile direction.”

“I wasn’t aware there were any royal dukes in want of a wife.”

“No, stupid, to protect the helpless.”

Seelye shrugged. “Ah yes, and you are fast exhausting everyone’s patience with your strident censure of everybody and everything. Except yourself, I note.”

“I don’t care.” Now genuinely provoked, Jane snapped, “The war gave you a purpose for a time, what have you now? Your wit and your clothes. Wait, the latter aren't yours. One cannot own what one has not yet paid for, so I suppose they are still your tailor's. I wonder where Beau Seelye will hide when the duns seize his finery to settle accounts. I hear Brummell has a room to let in Calais.”
²⁷

Flicking open her fan, she regarded him over its lacy edge.

Jane articulated bluntly the very disenchantment Seelye had felt since his return. His lack of purpose shamed him and made him very angry but he kept his tone light. “That is my concern, not yours. I worry far more for you. Time is passing, Jane, tick tock, tick tock. Yet another Season and still no takers. With your beauty and dowry, I wonder why?” He tapped his quizzing glass against his chin as if contemplating a mystery, then said, “Perhaps you’ve been as charming to your suitors as you’ve been to me.”

“You started this. We haven’t laid eyes on one another for years, yet you took one look at me tonight and raked me over the coals in front of your brainless imitators. Why?”
 

Seelye slowly pivoted to look at her and said, “I don’t know, Jane. You’ve changed and I don’t like what you’ve become.” He stood silent for a moment then shrugged. “Fortunately, you like wastrel lordlings even less, so my opinion is of no consequence.”

He bowed over her hand and dropped it to walk away.

A few months later, Lord Seelye took a chair vacated in Jane’s foursome playing whist at her brother the Duke of Bath’s card party. There, Seelye suffered what could only be described as a catastrophic run of bad luck, whilst Jane enjoyed equally inconceivable good luck at his expense. The duchess, Seelye’s eldest sister Gertrude, hovered nearby but he remained calm and good natured to all and sundry. Jane thought it prudent to retire before his losses to her became a ruinous bloodbath. She threw down her cards, rubbed her temples and claimed the headache. Seelye excused himself ostensibly to help her.

He offered Jane his arm and she hesitated before resting her fingertips on it.

“George will never allow me to accept your vowel for a gambling debt,” Lady Jane demurred. “We are family. We shouldn’t have played for money.”

“Ah, but we did and to my eternal disgust, you won. It’s a debt of honor and I will pay it.”

“There is no need, Seelye, please say no more.”

“I have not yet said half what I intend,” he said sharply.

“Oh no, not the other half! If only you will spare me the peal you’re about to ring over me about ladies gambling deep, I’d be tempted to tear up your vowel and call us even.”
 

He grimaced at her and rasped, “I’m honor bound to pay.”

“Fine, Seelye, since it’s a matter of honor,” Her blue eyes sparkled at him, “Though I had another thought.”

“I quail at the prospect.”
 

Lady Jane snapped open her lace fan and gave his lordship a quelling look with cold blue eyes.

“I will forgive your debt if you do something quite arduous for me and do it without your snide by-play and carping. You must do as I ask and with good grace, you hear me?”

“What exactly will this task entail?”
 

“I
was
going to ask only that you ignore me for the Season. I would have happily, nay joyously, accepted that as payment in full -- to the pence. But you’ve been so beastly, I think not.”

“I believe I’d liefer pay with a pound of flesh.”

“Pooh! Hear me out, won’t you?” She huffed indignantly, “You sound as though I have importuned you in the past. You’ve been at war and I’ve learnt to behave myself. But I haven’t much patience so have a care or I will think of something terrible to demand. Besides this is for your benefit.”

“You have never done anything for me but give me spasms since you were old enough to tag along and get your brothers and me in trouble for allowing it. I learnt my lesson after one thrashing too many from His Grace, thank you very much.”

“Old news, Seelye, old news and long forgotten.” She swept his objections away with a graceful gesture of her fan and shook her golden curls till they bounced and tumbled about her perfectly oval face.
 

“I have not forgotten nor, I would wager, has George or Rawden.”

“Such a Cheltenham tragedy! Whatever I eventually decide will be quite simple, an inconvenience to you I daresay, but it will clear the debt.” She blinked at him over the edge of her fan. “For instance, you could help me win over the man of my dreams.”

“Ainsworth ain’t that much a fool, Jane. He cannot be had for the batting of your big blue eyes.”

“Not Ainsworth, I haven’t decided yet. But a rival might be useful.”

“Oh, no!” He looked at her aghast, “Play your swain? Make love to you to make some oafish marquis or earl jealous? That will not do, I tell you. More likely get myself gutted by Rawden and find my chitterlings splattered all over Mayfair for my presumption. No. I’ve too strong a desire to keep my chitterlings right where they’ve always been. You are not destined for a second son so I won’t pretend, you hear me?”

“Fudge,” she said, her voice snapped like her fan closing. “Since you’re going to be disobliging, I will only tear up your vowel after you’ve done me one favor, no questions asked, no refusal permitted.”

“As I have already said, I will repay you in the customary manner, on my honor.”

“To Jericho with custom and your honor. One favor to be determined and in the meantime you will ignore me.”

“Ignore you during your third Season?”

“You know very well it’s my fourth,” she ground out. “And I don’t need your assistance to make me feel utterly ridiculous.”

“True. You’ve become an ape-leader all on your own, haven’t you?” He grinned, now enjoying himself. “Here’s my counter offer: I’ll leave you be, make good on my debt as you deem fair and I will be nice to you,
if
you will be nice to me.”

She furrowed her brow and studied his face for any telltale signs of mischief. His moss green eyes returned her stare as if daring her to agree.

“Is that even possible?”
 

“Can’t you imagine showing me the slightest consideration, the measliest kindness?” Seelye mocked, his hand to chest as if suffering a stab.

“Of course I can try. I wasn’t sure
you
would find it possible. I could gag on the number of times I’ve overheard someone say, ‘Lord Seelye’s rapier wit has turned the Ice Maiden to shavings, et cetera. Ha, ha.’ You’ve been stropping your wit on me and dining out on the stories.”

“But only with your help, my lady.” He bowed to her. “So I am doubly in your debt.”

“Won’t you
starve
if we make friends?” She asked tartly as she curtseyed.

“Not if I’m clever about it,” Seelye replied.

* * *

Not long after Seelye’s fateful game of whist…

George Babcock, sixth Duke of Bath strode into the drawing room of his London townhouse, where his wife, Gertrude, sat quietly plying her needlework on the settee. “My sister’s run off with your damned brother.”

“And one of your best friends from childhood. What makes you say such a thing?”

“This note.” He flicked a piece of unfolded foolscap back and forth.

“Calm down, you’ve gone quite puce, George. What did she write?”

“‘I have run off with Burtie Seelye.’ Demme if I don’t dismember your brother and flog my sister when I lay hands on them.”

“Let me see,” the duchess said calmly and extended her hand. Her husband passed it to her and flipped apart his coattails to flop down beside her as she looked it over. “It says, ‘I’m off with Burtie Seelye on a mission of mercy to save an unfortunate from a horrible fate. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.’ You see, George, she’ll be fine.”

“Not bloody likely. I’m going to have to hunt them down and haul my hoyden sister back here before her remaining marriage prospects are all but extinguished. And maim your brother, Gertie, for that I apologize. Unless under the circumstances you don’t mind.”

“Of course I mind, George. Oh,” the duchess interrupted herself and put a hand to her belly, “He’s kicking, feel it?”

“Don’t distract me, Gert, I won’t be put off with your bump’s bumptiousness.”

“Our bump, George.”

“Oh, fine.” The duke slid his hand under the duchess’ hand and waited. He smiled despite his distemper. “Hello, little bump,” he leaned down to address her belly. “Your papa is sorely distracted by your managing mama, so he must beg leave to postpone our coze until after he beats your uncle to a squishy pulp and locks your incorrigible aunt up in a tower. How does that sit with you, Bump?”

“George, I don’t think such bloodcurdling plans are appropriate for our baby to hear.”

“If he weren’t your brother, I’d kill him outright. As it is, I’ll have to hold my nose and make him marry her. Can’t go running off with her to parts unknown and not come out of it leg shackled to her.”

“He’s always been like a brother to her.”

“Be that as it may, your family, my title, nothing can protect her from this mess. Beyond the pale. This time Jane’s made her bed and she must lie in it. With Seelye, poor sod. Whatever possessed him to agree to one of her mad schemes anyway.”

“He’s a gentleman with chivalrous instincts.”

“Lost at cards to her, I’ll wager. I
warned
him about her. Poor devil. But that’s neither here nor there anymore. She’ll have him or I’ll wash my hands of her. I swear, Gert. I will.”

“Perhaps we should find them before we pass judgment.”

“Too late, done and have,” George declared and absent-mindedly stroked his wife’s belly. Next, he crooned, “Poor Seelye, much as I like your uncle, little Bump, I will happily saddle him with your impossible aunt. You’ve only to be born to see what I mean.”

“If we can find them discreetly, there’s no need to force them into marriage.”

“Should’ve bundled her off to a nunnery after that earl, whathisname, offered for her and she browbeat him about mistreating a horse.”

“Jane’s Anglican, dear.”

“Large enough donation and the Carmelite’s might have her. Are they the ones with a vow of silence? One can only hope, eh, little Bump?”

The duchess chuckled.

“And now this, by God.” The duke sunk to rest his head in his wife’s lap, ear to her belly bulge.

“You know you may rely on Burtie to protect Jane, not ravish her.” The duchess stroked the duke’s hair from his forehead.