Regency High Society Vol 7: A Reputable Rake / The Heart's Wager / The Venetian's Mistress / The Gambler's Heart. Diane Gaston
a moment, please,’ she persisted. ‘We may leave the door open a crack.’
He stepped just inside the doorway of the Cowdlin library, leaving the door open wide enough for his back to be visible to anyone passing by. He hoped that would prevent any accusation that he was engaged in a private meeting. ‘What is it, Lady Hannah?’
The room was dimly lit by only one branch of candles, but the distress on her face was easily visible. ‘My mother has had words with me… a moment ago, but my father earlier today.’ She broke off.
‘And?’ He crossed his arms over his chest.
She picked at her fingers like a distressed child. ‘Will you offer for me, Mr Sloane? My father is in desperate need of money and he has so counted on you offering for me. I… I know you like me and we… we got along famously at first. So, will you?’
He gazed down at her, so sorry he had led her and her family to count on his suit. He’d selected Hannah primarily because her father was friends with his father, he now realised. Merely to vex his father, he had toyed with this young lady’s hopes and expectations. It had been very wrong of him.
He tried to make his voice sound as gentle as he could. ‘No, Lady Hannah. I will not offer for you.’
Her face crumbled and she grabbed at his arm. ‘But you must, Mr Sloane! My father—’
He put his hand over hers and slowly removed it. ‘Your father is wrong to solve his problems by saddling you with a man such as me.’
‘I am certain we will suit,’ she cried.
‘And I am certain we will not.’ He tried to sound sympathetic.
‘Then what am I to do?’ She began to shake and take quick breaths. ‘What am I to do?’
He steadied her with a hand on her arm. ‘You are to marry a man who would give you the regard you deserve, Hannah.’
She collapsed against him, sobbing. ‘If only I could! It is impossible, though. He thinks of you, for one thing. And his fortune, it is not his to offer.’ She sniffled loudly.
He set her away from him, holding her at arm’s length. ‘Of whom do you speak?’
She gave him a miserable look. ‘Of your nephew, sir!’
He nearly laughed. David and Hannah in the tortures of young love, impeded only by the wealthy uncle who was expected to marry her? It was a villain role he’d never expected to play.
He controlled his smile. ‘Do you wish to marry David?’
She straightened, suddenly in control of all the passion of youth. ‘What I wish is of no consequence. I must do my duty.’
He did laugh then. ‘Rubbish!’
She glared at him. ‘It is not a joke, sir! My father requires money and David, thanks to his grandfather—your father—has none until he is twenty-five.’
‘I repeat, Lady Hannah, your father’s problems are not yours to solve. Does David return your affection?’
‘He will not declare himself out of loyalty to you,’ she said, her face dreamy and, oh, so young.
He smiled again, feeling like Methuselah. But perhaps a new hand had been dealt him, one he might win by losing. ‘My dear Lady Hannah, you may tell David that I am no longer a suitor, and he has my full permission to court you. You may also tell him not to worry over his lack of funds, for I shall attend that as well.’
She gazed up at him, with hope dawning on her face. ‘You can do this for him?’
He smiled. It would give him great pleasure to manipulate his father into giving David his fortune early. ‘I will be delighted to accommodate you both.’
‘Oh, thank you, Mr Sloane!’ She flung her arms around his neck. ‘Wait until I tell David!’
‘Only David,’ he cautioned, extricating himself from her grasp. ‘Do not tell anyone else or I might not be able to manage the affair.’
She nodded, smiling brightly, and ran past him out of the room.
Sloane wandered into the library. He walked over to the globe and spun it absently, waiting a few discreet minutes so it would not be so apparent that he had been with Hannah. He spun the globe again, feeling as if he were Atlas relieved of its weight. Lord Cowdlin would be almost as delighted as Hannah that her marriage—and the rescue of his finances—would be with David Sloane rather than Cyprian.
Sloane turned his thoughts more happily to the golden-eyed woman who would share his carriage on the ride home. How might he contrive some time alone with Morgana? He had much to discuss with her.
He smiled in anticipation of holding her in his arms again.
Morgana happened to be standing by the drawing room door when Hannah walked in, her colour high and eyes bright.
‘Oh, Morgana!’ She gave her cousin’s hand a squeeze. ‘I am so happy. I cannot tell you, for it is a secret, but you shall know soon enough!’
Morgana smiled dutifully, but she could guess what had brought such excitement to her cousin’s face. It had not escaped her that Sloane and Hannah had been absent from the room at the same time. Sloane had caught Hannah alone, undoubtedly, and had finally made his offer.
Hannah skipped over to where Athenia stood with David Sloane sipping tea, but the others did not seem to notice that her usual liveliness was heightened. In contrast, Morgana’s spirits plummeted, though it was nonsensical for them to do so. She had always known he would offer for Hannah.
Still, it seemed as if a door had slammed in her face. All hope was gone that she and Sloane could recapture that intimacy they’d so briefly shared, the one that had led to her coming alive to her passion for him. How was she to bear it?
By the time Sloane walked in the room, Morgana had taken over the pouring of tea from her aunt. It helped for her to have a task to perform. When he walked over to her and she poured for him, knowing precisely how he desired his tea, she sensed the same pent-up excitement in him so evident in Hannah. She dared glance at his face as she handed him his cup. His grey eyes were as warm and soft as smoke.
Would that they could be that warm for her.
Chapter Fifteen
By the time she entered Sloane’s carriage, Morgana felt quite in control of herself. Tears no longer threatened to embarrass her, nor did his lighthearted mood make her heart ache—very much.
Amy had already seated herself in the backward-facing seat, and Sloane took his place beside Morgana, tapping on the roof for the coachman to be off. He sat too close, it seemed, taking away all of Morgana’s air.
‘Did you have a nice visit, Amy?’ she asked. Better to converse with her maid than endure Sloane’s cheerful silence.
‘Oh, yes, miss, a lovely visit,’ Amy responded. ‘And I did not say one word about the masquerade.’
‘The what?’ Sloane’s voice boomed in the small confines of the carriage.
Amy’s hand flew to her mouth and she glanced in alarm at Morgana, who was not in any mood to hear Sloane upbraid her one more time.
She lifted her chin defiantly. ‘The masquerade at the Argyle Rooms tomorrow night. We are to attend. It is to be how we launch the girls.’
She could feel his eyes burn into her, though she could not clearly see them in the dim light of the carriage lamp. ‘Surely you are not seriously considering this?’
She could not explain to him that she agreed to this plan in part for his sake, to extricate him from the courtesan school. If it no longer existed, it could not threaten his happiness—or Hannah’s.