If the Earl Only Knew (The Daring Marriages) (2 page)

Two for joy

John Arlington, Earl of Wynbrook, warmed his hands against winter’s chill in the well-appointed sitting room of the Bank of England. The return of Darington and his sister was a complication in his otherwise orderly life. And for that he blamed Lady Kate.

Trouble was, he was not sure how to behave around her, which was terribly unusual. He prided himself on always knowing the correct manner of address for anyone in or out of society, but Lady Kate defied classification. She was a lady, the daughter of an earl, but hardly acted like one. Yet she was so reserved and refined, she did not
not
act like one either. It was all very confusing.

Given his conduct with Lady Kate several years ago, he had assumed an offer from him would have been expected. But then she’d disappeared and left him wondering what he was supposed to do. In truth, he had been relieved when Darington and Lady Kate had taken themselves to Gibraltar, and though it was uncharitable in the extreme, it would have been easier had they never returned.

His younger brother, Tristan, stood by the fire next to him, oblivious to any concern. “Haven’t seen Dare since we graduated from Cambridge. Be good to see him again.” Tristan gave him an easy smile, his eyes merry.

“I have not seen them both since…” Wynbrook’s voice trailed off.

Tristan’s face paled and the usual humor drained from his expression.

“Forgive me. I should not have mentioned it,” said Wynbrook. No one had taken the loss from the accident harder than Tristan.

“No, we should not avoid the subject. Besides, Darington’s service to us should not be forgot.”

“It never will be,” said Wynbrook firmly. It was one of the reasons he had invested a large sum into Darington’s shipping enterprise—a shaky venture at best.

They lapsed into uncomfortable silence and Wynbrook struggled to turn the conversation, if only to put a smile back on Tristan’s unusually pensive face. “I suppose Lady Kate has married by now?” He sincerely hoped so, though he did not wish to reveal his concern to Tristan. His brother was not smart, but he was clever.

“No, she is very much still available,” said Tristan, the smile sneaking back to his face. “Though I should warn you, I do not believe she holds you in high esteem.”

Wynbrook frowned. Lady Kate did not like him? Ladies liked him as a general rule. Come to think of it, ladies liked him as an absolute rule. And why not? He was exceedingly good company. So why her dislike? Wynbrook could think of only one reason. It was that night. That one dreadful, glorious night.

“Do you know the reason for her dislike?” he could not help asking.

“Good sense? Excellent judge of character?” suggested Tristan with an elegant gesture of his hand.

“Spitefulness does not become you. Nor does that waistcoat. Pink? Not at all the thing, brother mine,” said Wynbrook, adroitly changing the subject.

Tristan smirked. “Shocking, is it not? Took a wager I could induce the Duke of Clarence to wear this same shade of pink within the week.”

“You are dreadful,” said Wynbrook with a chuckle.

“Aren’t I?” Tristan laughed.

They were laughing when the handful of other men in the room took to their feet. There could be only one explanation. A lady was present. Wynbrook’s mouth went dry and he slowly turned toward the door. Lady Katherine stood in the doorway.

Why was she here? This was an investors meeting. Wynbrook would not have come had he thought there was any chance of meeting her. Too awkward.

Too late.

Brother and sister were dressed all in black. Their faces were thin, their mouths sullen lines. Wynbrook had met undertakers with rosier dispositions. He gave Darington a cursory glance, but his eyes remained on Katherine. She, however, did not spare him even the slightest recognition. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the rest of the investors who circled to meet them, but stubbornly refused to meet his.

Lady Katherine’s dark brown hair was pulled back severely under a trim, serviceable bonnet. Her black gown was stark yet immaculately pressed, and once he got past the off-putting color, he had to acknowledge it did show her figure well, though she was so thin he had a sudden urge to feed her. Her face was angular, yet she had high cheekbones, giving her an almost regal air.

Her one remarkable feature had always been her eyes. They were a strange, light color, almost translucent. Those eyes radiated intelligence and glowed with the internal warmth of the workings of her mind. Despite considerable effort, he could never entirely forget those eyes. He had never seen the color on anyone else; they were hers alone.

A titter of concern passed through the investors at the impoverished appearance of Darington and his sister. Darington was a lean, tall man, with brown hair tied back at the nape of his neck in a manner common to sailors. The clothes he wore looked shockingly like homespun and gave no indication of his rank. His eyes were dark, almost black, and his expression was so stern, it made one wish to apologize for giving offense. He was an imposing man, but it was not his physical appearance that made him impressive. There was a presence to him, an aura of power that surrounded him. Wynbrook could tell this man was accustomed to being in command and had to squelch the impulse to call him “Captain.”

The clear poverty of their attire did not bode well for the prospects of the investment. If their style of dress was any indication, they had not only lost the investment, but had gone down the hatches entirely. Wynbrook had no intention of demanding repayment and instead wondered how much it would take to discharge their debts and get them back on their feet. It was not good to see them looking so poor and thin.

“Dare!” cried Tristan, breaking the awkward silence. He greeted his friend with a hearty handshake and a slap on the back. “Been too long. How are you, old man? And Lady Kate, good to see you again.”

Lord Darington and his sister acknowledged him graciously, though with the distinct reserve that was their nature. Considering the bad news they were about to deliver, Wynbrook could hardly blame their grim appearance.

“Darington. It is good to see you,” said Wynbrook, following his brother to greet his friends. Kate did not look at him. Not even a glance. Had he sunk so low in her estimation that he did not even register a glimpse? “Lady Katherine, you are well met.” He was determined to force her to look at him.

Slowly, as if trying to find something else to look at, Kate met his gaze. Her ethereal eyes glinted, and he wondered if they reflected the pale sunlight from the window or sparkled with a light all Kate’s own.

“Lord Wynbrook.” She deigned to give him the smallest of curtsies.

“I assume we will be meeting the reclusive Mr. Ashton today?” Wynbrook attempted polite conversation. Darington’s cousin, Mr. Ashton, had drawn up the legal paperwork for the investment. In truth, Mr. Ashton had proved himself so valuable in straightening other financial wrinkles that Wynbrook had hired the man to see to his financial welfare. It had proved rewarding, though it was odd he had never met the man in person.

Lady Kate and Darington looked at each other and some look of understanding passed between them.

“Mr. Ashton sends his regrets,” said Darington.

“I see,” said Wynbrook. What he saw was that the attorney who had recommended the investment and drawn up the legal paperwork for it had lost his courage when the investment turned sour and abandoned Darington to face the investors alone.

They gathered around a long table in order for Darington to report the outcome of the investment. Wynbrook expected Kate to remove herself from the meeting, but she took a seat next to her brother. There was nothing demure about her nature.

Darington stood and said only that he appreciated the support and that Mr. Ashton was unable to be present. He then turned the meeting over to his sister. Much to Wynbrook’s surprise, Lady Katherine began to distribute account sheets to each investor.

“Lady Katherine will be presenting the financial information?” Wynbrook thought little of Mr. Ashton for abandoning Darington to the mercies of the angry investors, but he was shocked that Dare would put his own sister in such a position. It was cowardly in the extreme.

“I assure you, I am familiar with the financial arrangements and will be able to answer all questions,” declared Kate.

“We made our agreement with Lord Darington and I feel it should be him to give the report to his investors,” said Wynbrook in a soft voice. Murmurs of agreement came from the other investors. He was surprised at his defense of her, for his own feelings toward her were convoluted in a manner he only wished to avoid, and yet Lady Kate should not be made to face the wrath of the investors. If Dare failed to act, he would.

Dare began to rise, but Kate put a hand on his sleeve and he returned to his seat. “If you do not wish to hear my report, I beg you would leave.” Kate spoke through gritted teeth. “For now, you are interrupting the orderly conduct of business.”

Wynbrook blinked twice, taken off guard by her animosity. He had only meant to protect her. “By all means, do continue.”

Lady Kate cleared her throat and paused as if daring anyone else to speak in protest. All were silent, though a discontent among the investors was quietly simmering.

“Upon our arrival in Gibraltar, it soon became apparent that shipping was not as profitable as privateering, so the
Lady Kate
set out under letters of marque from the English Crown.” Kate spoke so bluntly, Wynbrook was caught off guard. He had long suspected the true nature of Dare’s “business” but expected them to be more reserved in their admission.

“So you were a pirate?” asked one of the investors with a scowl as the rest rumbled with disapproval.

“Privateer,” corrected Darington.

“By what right have you to change the nature of the business and put our investment at risk?” asked an older gentleman, and the grumbles among the investors grew louder.

This time, Dare did stand and people found themselves confronted with the renowned Lord Captain Darington. He said nothing but met the eyes of each investor in turn with such a steely gaze that all conversation halted and all the investors were reduced to sullen silence. Dare slowly returned to his seat and nodded to his sister to continue.

Kate immediately got to business, spouting numbers with dizzying rapidity. Considering his expectation and his surprise to see Kate so much in command of the financial report, it took Wynbrook a moment for her words to register into coherent meaning.

He stared at the numbers in disbelief. This accounting sheet did not indicate a loss but a gain. And not modest gains but large ones. He looked at the impoverished Darington and then back at the accounting sheet, unable to reconcile the dissonance between the image before him and the numbers on the page.

“Wait, wait,” interrupted Tristan, staring at his accounting sheet. “How much blunt did we make?”

“Well,” said Kate, with a frown at the interruption, “what I am trying to explain is that your initial investment has seen a significant increase over the past five years. As you can see from the bottom number on your page—”

“I’m rich!” Tristan shouted with joy.

Wynbrook scanned his own sheet down to the bottom. “Is this in error?” he asked, staggered by the sum.

Kate raised an offended eyebrow. “I assure you the calculations are correct.”

Wynbrook smiled sweetly at her. He had fortune enough before this morning, and now he had fortune
more
than enough. But why the poverty-stricken appearance of Dare and his sister?

Kate continued to attempt to walk the investors through each year of incomes and expenses, the additional ships, crews, and captains added to their flotilla, but no one was much concerned with how they had acquired such windfall, preferring to whisper excitedly between each other of what they were going to do with their sudden fortunes. Even the older gentleman who condemned piracy was mollified into heartily approving of privateering when it lined his own coffers. Eventually, Kate gave up trying to explain the intricacies of bringing naval prizes to the admiralty courts and fell silent, glaring at the investors as though they were recalcitrant schoolboys.

“Gentlemen, please,” said Wynbrook. “Lady Katherine has the floor.” He realized now he had falsely judged Darington. The man had not forced his sister to bear the brunt of the investors’ ire but had allowed her the honor of giving the good news, rather than taking the credit for it himself.

“Thank you, Lord Wynbrook, but I believe this concludes our meeting and our business,” said Kate crisply. “All monies owed have been made available to you in the bank. We thank you for your investment.”

This news prompted the gentlemen investors to jump up to voice their appreciation and leave to claim their newfound fortune. Soon Wynbrook and Tristan were the only ones who remained with Darington and Kate.

“Now I don’t have to join the regulars.” Tristan was in high spirits.

“You never did,” reminded Wynbrook, who had ensured that his brother, and his exacting tastes in fashion, had been adequately provided for, though it had meant reducing some of his own inheritance.

“But why are you two so shabbily attired?” asked Tristan, boldly marching into a topic of conversation where Wynbrook was cautious to tread. “Forgive me, but are you in mourning? You never mentioned it in your letters.”

“No, we are not,” replied Darington.

At their blank faces, Kate continued, “Force of habit. People assumed I was a widow, which made things easier.”

Wynbrook stared at her. He supposed it was true that a widow had more freedom in society than an unmarried lady, but at what cost had she bought this freedom?

“Oh no, my dear, this will never do,” declared Tristan. “You cannot run about London looking like…this!”

Wynbrook often felt his brother’s fastidious preoccupation with clothes to be extreme, but in this case, he had to agree.

“Where are you staying?” asked Tristan. When Darington told him, Wynbrook feared Tristan might collapse of apoplexy.