How to Beguile a Beauty. Кейси Майклс
Jasmine’s green eyes. “But if your heart is not engaged…”
“Then you understand. Oh,” Jasmine sighed almost theatrically. “It is so good to finally be able to speak freely to someone. I could never say such things to Papa, or Tanner, or to any man. Only another woman would understand that love is so much more important than honor.”
“And you truly feel you cannot broach the subject with your father?”
Jasmine shook her head furiously. “Papa has most clearly and emphatically explained my duty to me, and I certainly can’t refuse Tanner’s suit once he screws himself up to the sticking point, as Papa calls it. It’s the land, you know. It hadn’t been part of the entail, which is how Papa’s ancestors ended up with it, and the late duke and his father, even his father’s father, had wanted it back for ever so long. Pride, you understand. And some lovely waterways that seem to mean so much to everyone. In truth, the land isn’t much at all. Most of it is very soggy, in fact. It’s the water. There was once an argument, many decades ago, and my ancestor cut off the water flowing from a spring on our property, which dried up a stream that ran through the pastures on Tanner’s ancestor’s property and—well, the history hasn’t always been pretty, I suppose you’d say.”
“Couldn’t Tanner simply purchase the land from your father?” Did that sound selfish on Lydia’s part? And did it matter? Was the girl even listening to her?
“And wouldn’t that be so simple? But, just between the two of us, I will tell you that Papa’s soggy estate is massively encumbered. My marriage to Tanner is Papa’s sure and only way out from beneath a crushing mound of debt, not that Tanner can ever, ever know about that until the marriage is a fact, oh no, definitely. Even then, how would he trust Papa to continue as his estate manager once he knew about the gambling? Without the marriage, without a lovely pension for Papa once Tanner turns him off, it would be the ruination of everything, and Papa has assured me I would not enjoy sleeping beneath a hedgerow, and the man I love is…well, he cannot marry at the moment, although he has vowed to find a way. But I don’t think he will find that way in time to save me.”
Curiosity turned to concern. “This man, Jasmine. Are you trying to tell me he’s already married?”
The girl sighed again, this time definitely theatrically. “No. He is just poor, at least for now, although he has promised me this will soon change. But will his circumstances change in time? I think Papa is right, that I would not enjoy sleeping beneath a hedgerow, not even for love. So unless something wonderful happens, it must be marriage between Tanner and myself, before Papa’s gambling ways have been discovered and he is turned off without a recommendation. You see? No marriage means no employment, no fine pension, and a really rather worthless estate gone for debt. So you must understand my dilemma. No matter my feelings, I cannot disappoint Papa.”
Lydia knew she should be warning this sweet but silly girl that she should not be saying such things to what was, at heart, a brand new acquaintance. But it was all so interesting, if terribly convoluted. Certainly there must exist another way to work things out without sacrificing two people to a marriage neither of them seemed in any rush to make a fact.
Except that Tanner was an honorable man. How Jasmine’s father must be counting on that fact.
Jasmine’s words were tolling a death knell to any of Lydia’s barely admitted dreams of a time when she and Tanner might put the past behind them and look toward a future as more than good friends.
Indeed, even Baron Justin Wilde had spent the entirety of his second dance with her extolling Tanner’s virtues, telling her how humbled and honored he was to have such a friend in his time of need. She had agreed with him without offering further explanation.
Ever since that dance, while she was being partnered by a seemingly endless succession of gentlemen who had seemed able to have managed to avoid noticing her during previous social events and balls, Lydia had been convincing herself that Sarah and Maisie had been wrong, that she herself had been wrong, wishing for something that wasn’t there.
Tanner was a good friend, and nothing more; he had other obligations. Honorable, loyal. Rather like a good hunting hound, Nicole would probably have said in some disgust.
But she, Lydia, had been seeing more. Not at first, no, but ever since her return to London she had been looking at the Duke of Malvern in a new light. One in which he was not obscured by the ghost of Captain Swain Fitzgerald standing between them.
And she’d begun weaving fanciful dreams. She’d deliberately refused to think about Jasmine Harburton, especially when Nicole had pointed out that a man about to be betrothed did not spend so much time squiring another young woman about London, poking into museums, dancing with her at balls.
Now she understood Tanner’s dilemma. His reluctant feet were being slowly bound up by his damnable sense of honor. It was a marvel the man could even take two steps without falling down.
“Oh, look, the musicians have returned,” Jasmine said, pointing toward the small stage with her fan. “I am promised to a Mister Rupert Carstairs for this next set, whoever he is. I think he’s fairly ugly, but I was so amazed to have so many asking to partner me that I could hardly refuse him, could I? Who has written on your card?”
Lydia snapped herself back to attention and opened her dance card. Wildest. “The Baron. Oh, dear, and I think it’s going to be a Scottish reel. I loathe the Scottish reel, but only because I seem to constantly forget the steps.”
Jasmine looked out over the floor as couples began assembling for the dance. “I don’t see the baron, do you? Oh, here comes Mr. Carstairs. Such a pity he has no chin, don’t you think? Shame on me. Nobody dances with me save Tanner, since everyone seems to think I’m out of the marriage mart. Without a title or a huge dowry, I’m good only for filling one of these chairs. And there’s Tanner. But the baron isn’t with him.”
Lydia looked up and saw the duke at once. He was alone, and looking quite serious. And, ah, so very handsome. She’d have to stop thinking of him as handsome.
“Ladies,” he said, bowing to them both, his gaze seeming to linger on Jasmine in a…well, in an appraising sort of way. “Lady Lydia, I’m here to tender the baron’s deepest apologies, as he’s found it necessary to leave without honoring your dance, and to offer myself in his place. Jasmine, where’s Mrs. Shandy? We can’t leave you here alone.”
“Oh,” Jasmine said, looking to her left as if only now noticing that her chaperone had gone missing. “She said something about seeing if there were any Gunther Ices still in the supper room downstairs. But no matter, Tanner. My partner is standing just behind you.” She leaned to her right and waggled her fingers at the tall, rather thin and, yes, chinless gentleman. “Hullo again, Mr. Carstairs.”
“She’s such a child,” Tanner said as he held out his hand to Lydia, drawing her to her feet. “How are you two getting along? She hasn’t yet talked off your ear?”
“She’s delightful company, Tanner. I don’t think I’ve had time to miss Nicole at all tonight, although I would give much to hear my sister’s opinion of your cousin. And we’ve both danced every dance.”
“Would you then care to take the air on the balcony, rather than face the floor again? As I recall, you don’t much favor the Scottish reel.”
He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Yet I don’t recall ever mentioning that I don’t care for the Scottish reel.”
“You never have,” he told her as he steered them along the edge of the dance floor. She already believed she could feel a pleasant drop in the temperature as they neared the opened French doors.
“But you noticed.” Lydia realized that, only a few hours ago, she might have attempted to see more in his notice than was actually there. “Did the baron take ill?”
Tanner stepped over the low threshold that led onto the balcony, and then assisted her so that she wouldn’t stumble. “In some ways, yes, I suppose