Читать книгу Beguiled - Susan Paul Spencer - Страница 9

It had often been said among those who should know that the Earl of Cardemore was not quite human, that he was, in fact, a devil who had managed to escape from Hell and take on human form. Some argued that his unnatural size was proof that he wasn’t a native of this world, while others contended that the vivid scars mapping his harsh features gave testament to the fierce struggle he’d made while grasping and clawing his way out of the eternal pit of fire. Anthony Harbreas, the Earl of Graydon, had never given merit to the ridiculous rumorings. Until now.

The summons he had received from Cardemore an hour earlier—although he used the word summons out of polite habit, as it had really been a threat—was the least of the surprises he’d met with that night. The gloomy interior darkness of Cardemore’s immense and elegant town house, Wilborn Place, located in the midst of London’s most fashionable district, had certainly given him a turn, as had the sight of a number of carriages belonging to some of England’s highest-ranking nobles parked outside that same house. The fact that all of Cardemore’s servants appeared to possess the ability to fade rapidly into shadows had been cause for some question, as well. Lord Daltry, who’d been present when the summons arrived and had subsequently insisted upon accompanying Lord Graydon, murmured as they followed Cardemore’s ominously silent butler down a darkened hall, “If I’d known we’d be surrounded by ghouls, I would have brought along a priest.”

But the most potent shock by far had been the sight of Cardemore himself, when he had at last come through the doors of the study in which Graydon and Daltry awaited him.

Unkempt, unshaved and dressed in the coarse manner of a dockside laborer, appearing both aggravated and weary, the man walked into the room, looked down at his guests from his superior height and commented gruffly without preamble, “Brought a friend along to hold your hand, did you, Graydon? Just as well. I can’t abide most of you sorry young dandies, but at least Daltry knows how to fight properly.”

“Not against you, however, my lord,” Daltry remarked with a slight bow. “The last time I had the honor of matching you at Jackson’s you nearly knocked all my teeth out. I was obliged to eat boiled oats for a week.”

With a rare chuckle, Cardemore stalked past them, reaching for a decanter of brandy set near the impressive desk that took up one end of the room. “Sit down,” he said, pouring himself a drink. “I haven’t long before I must return to more important matters.”

“No thank you, my lord,” Graydon replied, his gaze following Cardemore’s movements as the man settled into a large chair behind the desk. “As it happens, Daltry and I are expected at Lord and Lady Hamilton’s shortly. We only stopped here first because your missive was so urgent.”

“Urgent,” Cardemore repeated, his dark eyes taking in his guests’ elegant evening clothes with clear amusement. “Oh, yes, Graydon, it is indeed an urgent matter that brings you here tonight. But I have less use for fine manners than I do for young dandies, so let’s dispense with them and speak plainly. You came because I told you to come. Because I’ve bought up every debt you owe, every marker you’ve pledged and every deed you’ve mortgaged, including the one to St. Cathyrs.” He paused long enough to sip his drink, his eyes holding Graydon’s over the rim of the glass. “That was foolish of you,” he continued pleasantly in a moment. “Didn’t you realize how vulnerable your family estate became when you used it to secure such a large loan?”

“It was an unfortunate but necessary action,” Graydon replied quietly, warily. “It was to be repaid this coming quarter. Indeed, if what you say is true, if you hold the note to the mortgage, then you will receive the outstanding amount due. In full.”

“No.” Cardemore set his glass on the table. “I won’t accept payment in money for the outstanding amount. I won’t accept money for any of your debts. What I require,” he said, sitting forward and tenting his fingers beneath his chin, “is payment of a different kind.”

Graydon gave not the slightest indication of surprise. “You bought all of my debts in order to put me beneath your hand? May I tell you, my lord, that such as that is blackmail, and more than likely to end with you in Newgate?”

Cardemore’s lazy smile widened. “Oh, no, my boy. That’s not one of your options. You don’t know enough about me to even begin to understand what I can do to you without fear of reprisal. I vow I wouldn’t lose so much as a moment’s sleep on your behalf. If you don’t want to find yourself ruined and your dear mother and charming sisters thrown out of your ancestral home, then I suggest that you sit down and listen to what I propose. There will be enough opportunity for you to rant and rave after, if you wish.”

“Might as well sit, Tony,” Daltry remarked with practical resignation, adding, when Graydon looked at him sharply, “Unless you want to stand here all night while you argue with the man.”

When they were both seated, Cardemore said, “Let me tell you plainly what I want and we can save ourselves the effort of playing cat and mouse. My sister, Lily, and my niece, Isabel, are coming to London next month to have their comeout. I want you to dance attendance on Lily while she’s here and make certain that both she and Isabel are fully accepted in society.”

A stark silence followed these words as Cardemore looked from one man to the other, at last saying, “Never thought I’d see the day when one of you frippery young lords could be shocked speechless, but I suppose here it is. It’s a nuisance to put my own sister into such a man’s care, but you’ll treat her well enough or suffer the consequences. That’s the best I can do, short of buying Lily a husband.”

With an effort, Graydon found his voice. “My lord, what you suggest is preposterous.”

“You won’t think so when you’re corresponding to your family and friends from debtor’s prison,” Cardemore assured him.

“But why should you wish to do such a thing?” Graydon demanded. “And why me? I can’t suddenly start squiring a girl I’ve never even met before.”

“Why not?” Cardemore gave a shrug of his massive shoulders. “Like the rest of your kind, you’ve been taught from the cradle how to manipulate others. There’s very little you can’t manage if you put some effort to it. And don’t think I don’t know it. I come from the same sort of people, with all their ancient titles and ancient blood and ancient emotions.” He sat back comfortably in his chair. “The Walfords go back to before the days of the Romans, so far back you’d think we’d have water in our veins by now instead of blood, we’ve been stretched so thin. Some of us are half-mad,” he said with a grin. “Some of us are nearly inhuman. I happily abandoned my family when I was fourteen and never would have gone back if my brother hadn’t had the bad manners to get himself killed without leaving a son to inherit the title and estates, and if Lily hadn’t needed me. I’ve loved few souls in my life, Graydon,” Cardemore said softly, intently, “but Lily is the most precious among them. I’ve held her safe from every harm these past many years, keeping her in the country, as far from fashionable society’s vultures as possible, but now I think perhaps I’ve done her a disservice. She’s twenty-one years of age and as vulnerable as a newborn babe. Coming to London is as a dream to her. An answer to all her prayers. I’ll not allow her to be disappointed. Understand that.” His expression took on a hint of menace, as gentle and firm as his voice. “Lily will have all the things she’s dreamed of. Exactly as she’s dreamed of them. You’ll make certain of it or lose everything you hold most dear. I give my word of honor on it.”

“Why?” Graydon asked, shaking his head. “There must be dozens of better men you could have chosen.”

“Hardly,” was the casual reply as Cardemore opened a desk drawer and pulled out a single sheet of paper, which he scanned. “I’ve been informed by my sources that you’re a notable sportsman, a leader of fashion, highly admired among the nobles as a rising power in Parliament, considered the catch of the ton by the mothers of marriageable females and, according to my mistress—” Cardemore glanced up at him “—handsome enough to make young girls faint should you happen to smile at them. Not that I want you felling Lily, of course, but she’s far too level-headed for that sort of nonsense.” Leaning, he offered the paper to Graydon, who read it through with narrowed eyes. “Is it all correct?” Cardemore asked.

“Quite thorough.” Graydon passed the paper to Lord Daltry. “Right down to the name and location of my mistress.” He smoothed his fingers in a relaxed gesture over the folds of his cravat. “I’d ask how you came to know so much about my sisters, even their dates of birth, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t like the answer much.”

A chilly smile lifted the corners of Cardemore’s mouth. “No, I’m afraid you wouldn’t.”

“Dear me,” said Daltry, tossing the paper onto the desk. “Even my name’s listed as one of your frequent companions. Never knew you’d be such a dangerous fellow to associate with, Tony.”

“There’s one pertinent bit of information missing from your collection, however,” Graydon said. “I spent most of last season openly courting Miss Frances Hamilton, and it’s well-known among the members of the ton that she and I have an understanding, despite the fact that I’ve not yet made her a formal offer. I cannot possibly do what you ask without starting a great many unpleasant rumors flying, perhaps driving Miss Hamilton away even if I should be able to explain the matter to her.”

Cardemore’s expression sharpened. “You’ll tell no one of the understanding between us. Either of you.” His dark gaze fell briefly on Lord Daltry, who smiled cheerfully at him in turn. “If Lily should ever hear of it I would be most displeased. I don’t care what you do with Miss Hamilton. In my mind, she doesn’t exist as a problem. The only thing I’m concerned about is that Lily enjoy her first season in London and that she be spared any unkindness on the part of fashionable society. If she wants to attend parties, you make sure she attends them. If she wants to dance, you make sure she dances. When she leaves London to return to Cardemore Hall, I want her doing so with a smile on her face.”

“If you love your sister so dearly,” Graydon remarked, “then why don’t you squire her yourself?”

Cardemore stood, setting his hands palms down on the desktop. “That’s a foolish question, Graydon, even for you. If I took Lily about she’d be treated with respect for no other reason than simple fear, while behind her back all those sharp-tongued matrons of the ton would gleefully wreak havoc. If the most notable gentleman in London shows a keen interest in Lady Lillian Walford, however, society will welcome her with open arms.” From his great height, he gazed down at them much as a waiting panther might look with satisfaction upon its helpless prey. “Lily and Isabel will be arriving in three weeks, with my sister-in-law, Lady Margaret. Their first outing will be to Almack’s, where I have already secured vouchers for them. I advise that you make yourself known to Lily then, Graydon, for a month after that I’ll be holding her and Isabel’s comeout here at Wilborn Place and I’ll expect to see you leading Lily out for the first dance.” To Lord Daltry he added, “If you bear your friend any affection, then do what you can to aid him in his endeavors. Otherwise you’ll find yourself lending him comfort as he serves his time in debtor’s prison. It will be, I promise you, a lengthy period of time in which to prove the mettle of your friendship.”