The Betting Season (A Regency Season Book) (29 page)

“
Lydell needs an heiress, as do a number of other gentlemen in society. Any one of them would be happy to be your willing victim, I’m sure.”

“
Heiress? I’m not an heiress.” That was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. Certainly she had a dowry, but it wasn’t outrageous, was it?

“
Yes, you are,” her brother answered grimly. “Father left five thousand pounds for your dowry.”

“
That is a bloody fortune.”

“
Moira Rose Kirkwood, take yourself upstairs right now. A lady does not use foul language, even in the privacy of her own home.”

Mother was back.

“
I apologize,” Moira muttered. Blast, she really did need to learn to think before she spoke. A trait she apparently inherited from her mother and needed to curb before she turned into that woman. A shudder ran through Moira at the thought. The last person in the world she wanted to become was the Dowager Countess Hearne. Moira stood and swiped two cakes off the plate before going to her chambers.

Gideon thumbed through the stack of invitations on his desk. Almost half of those he had already received were in the can beside his desk. Now he needed to determine which of the remaining were for meeting a future bride. Lydell wasn’t the only one who wished to find a wife this Season, but at least Gideon didn’t need an heiress. Not that Gideon had any intention of announcing his plan to wed. Such a statement would have women circling around him like vultures.

Or perhaps not. Few wished to live on his estate, far removed from society and in the wilds. Perhaps, not so much the wilds, but between the steep hills and river that tended to flood on occasion, a person could be confined to the estate for an undetermined amount of time. The roads weren’t the best either. Carriages and wagons often got stuck in the ruts and mud as they climbed the road to his home, and more than a few turned back. It was a bloody shame, because the view was spectacular. The young women he met in Edinburgh were intrigued until they learned it wasn’t always a quick jaunt into town, and even worse, to Edinburgh. One would think, especially those young women from the Highlands, that a bit of mud and occasional flooding wasn’t much of an inconvenience.

“
You have got to help me.” Lydell burst into Gideon’s library. “My debts continue to pile up. Why didn’t my father say something?”

“
Pride, perhaps.” Gideon leaned back against his leather chair.

“
Well, his damn pride has me contemplating the Continent.” Lydell marched across the room and poured himself a glass of scotch whiskey, Gideon’s choice of beverage.

“
I could loan you the funds…”

“
Gads, no, man. I would never presume upon our friendship.” He poured a second glass, carried both to where Gideon sat, and placed one of them before him. “I need an introduction to this Lady Moira.”

Such a match would solve Lydell’s problems. “I don’t know her, so I don’t know how to go about gaining an introduction.”

“
Doors are open to you everywhere, and mothers like you.”

“
They like you as well,” Gideon insisted.

Lydell snorted. “That was last year. Only the most desperate wallflowers or those who wish for a title pay me any mind now.”

There was some truth in the statement. Gideon had witnessed it the previous evening. Before Lydell’s empty coffers became fodder for the gossips, he’d had his pick from the crop of debutants each year. But last night, young women had actually tried to avoid him.

“
What would you like me to do?”

Lydell brightened. “Gain an introduction, learn what you can, then arrange for me to meet her somewhere private.”

“
Arrange in private?” There was an odd tightening in Gideon’s gut.

“
Yes. If she wishes to compromise a fellow, and you think we’ll suit, then I’ll see it done.”

“
I am not picking your bride for you.” Lydell had gone around the bend. “You expect me to simply deliver her into your hands at some unknown location to be whisked north and across the border?”

Lydell shrugged. “Something like that.”

“
You are mad.”

“
Please, Ainsely. I need an immediate solution to my problem.”

Gideon studied his old classmate, in a near state of panic. “I will obtain an introduction, meet the chit, and somehow achieve an introduction for you in a proper setting. That is all.”

Lydell brightened. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”

Gideon sighed and picked up his glass. The smooth whiskey slid down his throat. “Where shall she be tonight? I will endeavor to bring this about.”

“
Davenport’s.”

Bloody hell.
The last place he wanted to be tonight was the Davenports’. The man had five daughters between the ages of ten-and-seven and two-and-twenty, and hadn’t managed to marry any of them off yet. In fact, that particular invitation was already in the trash. He’d met the Davenport daughters and, simply put, none of them would suit.

“
My maid has a sister who works in the household next door to—”

“
Spare me the details about how you know where Lady Moira will be, but this venue will not do.”

“
It must. You promised.”

Damn it. He had. Gideon scowled. Lydell would owe him for this for the rest of his miserable years. “Very well.”

Moira rushed to the entrance of Hyde Park, Beatrice trailing behind her. Oh, she hoped Pippa had waited for her. Her departure had been delayed when Mother made Moira change clothing and insisted on her hair being rearranged. What did it matter? She was wearing a bonnet, which covered most of her head. Then her scarf was all wrong. Moira had adorned five different ones before her mother finally approved. All this fuss and bother over a simple stroll in the park. If a gentleman dismissed her on account of her scarf, then he wasn’t worth considering.

Lady Philippa Casemore waited for Moira by the entry gate, her maid just a few feet away. “I am so sorry I am late,” Moira said as she linked arms with her friend and headed toward Rotten Row.

“
It’s no bother,” Pippa insisted.

Moira cast a sidelong glance at her friend. Pippa looked rather pale this afternoon. “Are you feeling well?”

“
Better than this morning.”

“
Oh dear. Probably from too much fun at the Heathfields’ last evening.”

Pippa only offered a weak smile. Perhaps it hadn’t been as enjoyable as Moira had imagined. She would find out soon enough, but first she needed to get her friend’s advice. “I have something to tell you, but you cannot tell anyone else.”

Pippa leaned her head closer to Moira’s. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

And thank heavens for it. The two had been so close the last few years at the Broadmoor Academy. Moira didn’t know what she’d have done without her dear friends, the only other souls who knew how desperately Moira needed to escape her mother. “I made an innocent comment to Alvina last evening that was somehow overheard. Now my name is in the White’s betting book. Mother is going to have an apoplexy when she learns of it.”

Pippa’s eyes widened in surprise. She started to speak, but Moira cut her off, afraid of being censured by her level-headed friend.

“
I plan to make it work to my advantage, however.”

“
Make it work to your advantage? Oh, Moira, how could you possibly do that?”

“
My name is now known in a rather important gentleman’s club. Given Mother whisked me away from the ball last evening after only an hour, this may be my only chance to be known.”

“
Oh, Moira—”

But Moira cut her off once more. “Granted, it wasn’t my plan to have all of society know I am willing to compromise a gentleman to get what I want, but at least now suitable candidates will seek me out, and I can choose the best Scot for the position.”

Pippa stopped and Moira turned to face her friend. “You think it’s a horrible plan, I can tell. But, Pippa, you don’t understand what it’s like to live with my mother.”

“
It’s not that.” Pippa winced, and though it looked like she meant to say more, she only pursed her lips.

“
Then what is it?” Moira prodded.

Pippa face fell even more. “Yours isn’t the only name in White’s betting book.”

“
It’s not?”

A mirthless laugh escaped her friend. “Apparently
I
am to be bedded by Lord St. Austell before the Season is out.”

The devilish rake her mother had warned her from? And Pippa? Moira didn’t try to hide her amusement. “I’m sure there are worse fates.”

Pippa’s mouth fell open. “You know him?”

Only by sight. “No, but mother pointed him out to me last night with dire warnings.”

“
What does he look like?”

“
Why, we just passed him. He was with Lord Heathfield.” Moira turned around to find the scoundrel in question. “He was right over…” But Pippa was gone, almost as though she’d vanished in thin air. “Pippa!” Moira called. Good heavens, where did she run off to? They were to have tea with Patience Findley and Georgianna Bexley-Smythe after their walk.

“
That’s her? Lady Moira?” Gideon asked.

“
The very one,” Jordan answered with an unrepentant grin.

Gideon studied the young woman whom Lydell would probably marry. The obnoxious bonnet shaded most of her head, but a few ringlets escaped. Red, the shade of sunrise. And, he could well understand why she used the parasol to shade her face from the sun. Such a pale complexion could burn in a matter of moments.
I wonder if she has freckles. I’ve always been partial to them.
High cheek bones and a delicate nose were a fine match to the thin, arched eyebrows and full lips. Had she applied cosmetics, or were they naturally red?