A Reckless Match Page 17

  Maddie furnished her with the details and confirmed that she’d seen the Davies half of the dictionary with her own eyes. “It’s definitely the right one.”

  “But he rejected your offer to buy it?”

  “Yes. Although there might be a chance of further negotiation.”

  Maddie fought the telltale blush that rose to her cheeks. Further negotiation? She wasn’t certain she’d survive any further negotiation. She’d expire of heatstroke.

  After Harriet had left, Maddie undressed and got into bed. She was physically exhausted, but her mind couldn’t settle. She kept recalling the insanely pleasurable sensations Gryff had coaxed from her body.

  She lay awake for a long time.

  Her father returned from Bristol late the following morning, looking rather disheartened. Maddie cornered him in the study, and to her great relief he informed her that he hadn’t taken out a loan from one of the notorious moneylenders.

  “They’re nothing but scoundrels and thieves,” he groused. “Do you know the interest they charge? Ten percent! Ten! That’s double the legal amount!”

  He sank into his chair with a sigh and rubbed his forehead. “And I’ve heard enough tales of the unpleasant ways they ensure their payments are met to be wary. No, Maddie, I was not tempted to take their money, no matter how desperate we may be.” He sent her a wan smile. “I’ll have another word with our more pressing creditors. It’s not that we won’t have the money in time. It’s just that most of my investments take longer to make a return. The consols—government-backed securities—pay out at three percent, but they aren’t easy to cash in. I won’t have the money for a year.”

  Maddie bent and kissed the top of his frizzy head. “We’ll think of something. Even if I can’t stomach marrying Sir Mostyn, I promise to seriously consider all the other single gentlemen of our acquaintance.”

  Father patted her hand. “Thank you. And you can start this very night, at Squire Digby’s. I’m selling him that matched set of bays I bought at Tattersalls last year, so we have to go.”

  Maddie dressed for the evening with unusual care. She’d hidden the red dress at the back of her wardrobe and chosen another gown that was slightly more demure, but nevertheless very flattering. The sage-green sarcenet had a pretty ruched bodice, and matching embroidery along the bottom hem. It complemented the reddish highlights in her hair.

  She was a bundle of nerves at the thought of seeing Gryff again as they bounced along in the carriage. The Aunts were both in high spirits at the prospect of company, but Harriet seemed to be in an equal state of agitation as herself. Maddie was sure it was the possibility of encountering Morgan Davies that had her so on edge.

  They’d barely entered the crowded ballroom when Maddie’s father stiffened at her side.

  “Good God. Do my eyes deceive me? Is that all three of those dreadful Davies boys? The youngest back from the tropics?”

  “I believe so, Father.”

  “Harrumph. One Davies is bad enough. Two is a pestilence. Three in the same county ought to be classified as a plague.”

  Aunt Connie rolled her eyes behind his back. “Oh, go have a drink, William. And find Sir Arthur. I hear he’s looking for a partner at whist.”

  It was the perfect diversion. Father grumbled but stomped off in the direction of the cardroom.

  Aunt Connie caught Maddie’s eye and smiled devilishly. “I know. Crisis averted. It was masterfully done.”

  Maddie laughed at her complete lack of modesty.

  Harriet, who had been exerting a tight grip on Maddie’s arm, leaned in. “I need some air. I’m going out on the terrace.”

  Maddie’s arch look accused her of running away, but Harriet just shrugged and muttered, “Discretion is the better part of valor,” then melted into the crowd.

  Aunt Connie cast her eye across the room and fanned herself vigorously. “All three Davies boys, eh? Do you know, I’d quite forgotten the impact of them all together. They are a handsome bunch of devils, aren’t they?”

  “They’re the enemy,” Aunt Prudence hissed.

  “Pffft. Nothing wrong with admitting they’re easy on the eye.”

  “It was ever thus,” Prudence muttered. “Davieses on one side of the ballroom, Montgomerys on the other. Separated by an unbridgeable divide.”

  Aunt Connie cackled behind her fan. “Oh, it’s been bridged, Prudence. Any number of times. Why, I myself once spent a very pleasant half hour bridging it in Sir Thomas Tresham’s yew maze with a distant Davies cousin.”

  Aunt Prudence gasped.

  “We pointed out each other’s numerous failings. Among other things.” Connie wiggled her eyebrows, and there was no missing the wicked twinkle in her eye. “In the end, I was forced to admit that even Davies men aren’t bad at everything.”

  The Aunts soon drifted off to talk to their friends, and Maddie turned to find Doctor Williams at her side.

  “Good evening, Doctor! How is Mister Brookes?”

  “Healing nicely, I’m happy to report. I left him reading by the fire.”

  The doctor shot an unsubtle glance across the ballroom at Gryff and his brothers and Maddie followed his gaze, suppressing the urge to let out a tiny appreciative sigh.

  Aunt Connie was right. They really were an abnormally good-looking family. All three of them had been blessed with dark hair and handsome features. The family resemblance was striking, but each had his own subtle differences, like the same piece of music played on three different instruments. Only their sister Carys had broken the mold and inherited the flaming-red hair of some earlier generation.

  “I see Powys is here tonight.” The doctor slowly closed one eye, and Maddie realized with astonishment that the old man was winking at her. “Fear not, Miss Montgomery. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Maddie didn’t know whether to laugh or be completely horrified. The doctor, it seemed, was enchanted by the idea that she and Gryff were young lovers, separated by the cruel hand of fate.

  “It’s just like Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet,” he sighed. “Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. If there’s anything I can do to help the two of you, Miss Montgomery, please do not hesitate to ask. Perhaps I could tell your father about Powys’s heroic rescue of Brookes?”

  “Oh, no, please don’t,” Maddie said quickly, grabbing his arm. “Don’t say anything. Father gets extremely irritated whenever a Davies is mentioned.”

  The doctor sighed and nodded. “That is true. But holding such a lengthy grudge isn’t good for the digestion. It’s a wonder he’s not more choleric. Ah! I see your aunt Prudence is beckoning me over. Handsome woman, your aunt.”

  Maddie bit back a laugh as the doctor unconsciously tugged down the points of his waistcoat and straightened his cravat.

  “Excuse me, Miss Montgomery.”

  She shook her head in bemusement. The doctor and her aunt? It wouldn’t be the worst match in the world …

  Chapter 29

  Gryff shook hands with his host, the jovial, rotund Squire Digby. “I hope you don’t mind us turning up without an invitation, sir?”

  The squire let out a booming laugh. “Nonsense, Powys. You’re always welcome, just as your father was. We don’t stand upon ceremony here. And welcome home, Morgan. Back from your adventures overseas? I bet you’ve some tales to tell.”

  “I do indeed, sir—including how I was imprisoned on the island of Mauritius thanks to a misprint on a map.”

  Gryff, Rhys, and the Squire all lifted their brows.

  “You didn’t tell us about that last night,” Gryff muttered.

  Morgan shot them a lazy grin. “It’s too long a tale to get into now. But I’ll tell you about it soon, I promise.” His eyes raked the assembled crowd. “For now, however, I’m going to ask one of these lovely young ladies to dance. I’ve been without female company for far too long.”

  Th
e squire chuckled indulgently. “Please do. I’ve had a whole host of ’em clamoring for an introduction, you lucky scamp.”

  Morgan’s expression turned wicked. “I thought maybe one of the Montgomery girls?”

  “If you’re trying to ruffle their father’s feathers, you’re out of luck,” Gryff said. “He’s already in the cardroom.”

  “I’m sure word will get back to him if I dance with his niece.”

  “What, Harriet? Haven’t seen her,” Squire Digby muttered, scanning the dancers. “Think she went outside.”

  Morgan shrugged easily. “His daughter, then.” He sent an admiring glance over at Maddie, who was talking to Doctor Williams.

  “If anyone’s dancing with Madeline, it’ll be me,” Gryff said, and then could have bitten his tongue as the three of them swiveled toward him in surprise. He cleared his throat. “I mean, I am the senior Davies. It’ll annoy her father even more if she dances with the Earl of Powys.”

  Rhys shot him a knowing smile but forbore to comment.

  “I suppose you’ve heard the rumors?” Squire Digby murmured. “Half the county’s expecting her to accept Sir Mostyn.”

  Every muscle in Gryff’s body tensed in instinctive recoil. “What?”

  The squire nodded, a disapproving frown forming between his eyebrows. “He’s been after a replacement ever since his wife died. Seems he’s fixed his sights on Miss Montgomery. He’s made his preference very clear these past few months.”

  “But he’s old enough to be her father. Surely he can’t think that she’ll accept him?”

  The squire shrugged. “Who knows? It wouldn’t be the first match between a young woman and an older man.”

  Gryff frowned. “Is he here?”

  “Drake? Yes, over by the door.”

  Gryff schooled his featured into an uninterested expression as he sought out the justice of the peace. The man was close to sixty, slim as a reed, with sallow skin and a smile that never quite reached his eyes. He’d been brusque and coldly unimpressed when Gryff had reported the smuggling cache to him the previous day.

  Surely the squire was mistaken? Maddie couldn’t possibly be considering a marriage to that.

  It was easy enough to see why Drake would be tempted, of course. Maddie wasn’t just gorgeous to look at, she was witty and clever as well. What man wouldn’t want such a woman in his life?

  In his bed.

  The very thought of Maddie and Drake together in that way was enough to turn Gryff’s stomach. He suppressed a shudder and took a long swig of brandy from his glass.

  Such a rumor made no sense. Maddie was both beautiful and intelligent. If she was on the hunt for a husband—and she’d made no indication that she was—then surely she could do better than Sir Mostyn? She might be a little overeducated for some, but there were plenty who’d overlook that “fault” to get their hands on that glorious figure of hers.

  The only reason bright young things married crusty old crows like Drake was for money or power. What did Sir Mostyn have that Maddie—or her father—wanted? Land? Connections? It couldn’t be social position; the Montgomerys were already higher up the aristocratic food chain.

  Was it money? Maddie hadn’t said anything to suggest that her family was in trouble financially, but a Davies would be the last person she’d confide in.

  Still, the idea that she might actually consider marrying for money was as ludicrous as it was distasteful. She had one of the strongest moral compasses of any woman he’d encountered. Just look at how she’d resisted the temptation to steal that damn half of the dictionary from him when she’d had the chance. He’d left it right there on the table in the library. She could have swiped it if she’d wanted to.

  Gryff took another long sip of his drink, ignoring the flow of masculine conversation around him.

  Maddie shouldn’t be going anywhere near Drake. If the man was responsible for yesterday’s attack, then he obviously wasn’t above sanctioning murder to keep his involvement in the smuggling operation quiet. And while those men couldn’t have known that Maddie would be in the clearing too, she could have been killed in the crossfire, or even executed, as a witness to the crime.

  A wave of anger heated his blood at the thought of her being hurt, closely followed by a blood-chilling realization. Maddie might not have recognized the attacker by the well as one of the smugglers who’d hurt Brookes. She’d have no reason to suspect that Drake was involved or know he wasn’t to be trusted. What if she told him she’d also seen the smugglers? Gryff doubted the man’s lust would be greater than his need to silence her.

  Drake was staring intently at something across the room, his expression both possessive and calculating. Gryff followed his gaze, and his heart began to pound as he realized he was watching Maddie. She was laughing at something, unaware of Drake’s scrutiny.

  As Gryff watched, she took her leave of her companion and headed toward the open doors that led out on to the terrace.

  Drake peeled away from the wall and started after her.

  Gryff tossed back the remainder of his brandy, muttered an excuse to his brothers, and strode after them.

  Chapter 30

  The terrace was deserted when Maddie slipped outside in search of Harriet. The evening had grown cool; the other guests had retreated inside to take part in the dancing, but she rubbed her gloved hands over her bare arms and started forward.

  “Harry? Are you out here?” she whispered.

  A shallow set of steps descended to a lower parterre and she hastened down them, searching the shadows for a secluded bench where Harriet might have taken refuge from the crowd.

  A series of neatly tended paths led off into the gardens, and the gravel crunched underfoot as she started toward a small copse of trees and a half-hidden rose arch. The gravel bit painfully through the thin soles of her satin dancing slippers.

  The sound of a lively reel and the clapping of the assembly increased as someone else opened the French doors, but Maddie paid no attention. The light spilling from the house was enough for her to see that Harriet wasn’t behind the rose arch or in the arbor, and she doubted her cousin would have ventured farther into the unlit section of the gardens on her own. She must have slipped back into the house.

  With a sigh of defeat Maddie turned, then reared back in alarm as a dark, thin figure stepped into her path.

  “Good heavens, Sir Mostyn!” She clapped her hand over her rapidly beating heart, even as her spirits sank. Of all the people at tonight’s dance, Sir Mostyn was the last person she’d have chosen to meet in the moonlight.

  Since his back was to the house she could barely make out his features, and as usual he was dressed in unrelenting black, a specter at the feast. Maddie squinted against the light, uncomfortably aware that her own features were doubtless illuminated well enough for him to leer over the snug fit of her bodice.

  Sir Mostyn bowed stiffly, and she caught a nauseating whiff of the waxy, floral pomade he used on his hair.

  “Good evening, my dear. I was hoping to catch you alone.”

  She subdued an instinctive grimace.

  “I assume your father told you about my offer?”

  “He has, sir. I must decline.”

  Drake stilled, as if the answer had caught him off guard. “Decline?” he said finally, and Maddie’s stomach plummeted as she heard the distinct rumble of amusement in his tone. “My dear girl, you can’t decline.”

  Maddie crossed her arms over her chest. “I most certainly can. And I do. I’m not interested in marrying anyone at present, and I do not think we would suit. Good evening, sir.”

  She took a step to her left and tried to walk past him but he sidestepped, blocking her escape.

  “The choice isn’t yours to make, I’m afraid.” He didn’t sound remotely apologetic, and Maddie cursed inwardly. His unctuous confidence was stomach-churning.

  “I have friends in London,” he said softly. “In banking. They tell me your father’s up to his ears in debt. You
can’t afford to refuse me, my dear.”

  Maddie stilled. Oh, hell and damnation.

  He turned, and the light from the house spilled across his sharp features. His gaze roamed over her body like a fly deciding where to land on a freshly baked pie. He licked his bloodless lips, and Maddie quelled a surge of nausea.

  When Gryff looked at her like that, she wanted to burn up in flames. Sir Mostyn’s ogling made her feel like she needed to bathe.

  She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything he caught her arm in a painful grip, just below her wound. She let out an involuntary yelp and tried to twist away, but his wiry strength was surprising.

  “It matters not what you want, or don’t want, Miss Montgomery,” he hissed. “We will be wed, or I’ll tell everyone from here to Grosvenor Square about your father’s money troubles. He’s hidden it well until now, but one word from me and his ruin will be common knowledge. His creditors will beat a path to your door. And when he can’t pay, he’ll be thrown into debtors’ prison, and your disgrace will be complete. You don’t want that, do you?”

  Maddie’s blood was pounding in her ears as fright and fury jostled for supremacy. “That’s blackmail!” she panted. “How could you? Let go of me!”

  She tried to twist away again, but his grip on her arm was unbreakable.

  “Come, let’s not argue.” He leaned closer, and she came to the awful realization that he was intending to kiss her. She turned her face away, rearing back in disgust.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

  Gryff’s sarcastic tones floated out of the darkness and Maddie let out an audible gasp of relief. Sir Mostyn straightened with a muffled curse and dropped her arm.

  Gryff’s broad-shouldered silhouette disengaged from the shadows as Sir Mostyn’s lips curled in the parody of a smile.

  “Not at all, Lord Powys. Miss Montgomery and I were just having a little discussion.”

  He shot her a warning glance, daring her to dispute his claim, but retreated with a bow: a hyena backing away from a kill in deference to a more dangerous predator. “We can continue our conversation another time.”