He had hesitated when he reached Sybil’s house, wondering if by some misfortune Kingsley might even then be inside. When a tall blond man came down Sybil’s steps, it had produced a bolt of terror in Sir Edward’s breast, but fortunately the man was a stranger, not Sybil’s fiancé.
At Sir Edward’s entrance, Miss Debenham unconsciously straightened herself, reaching up to pat her hair into place. She hadn’t seen the baronet since his alleged interlude with Annabelle Kingsley the previous October. A pity that he had shown up when she was looking like a positive harpy.
Sir Edward had planned several possible strategies but on impulse he went to her and clasped her hand. “Miss Debenham, I have only just heard the sad news!”
Sybil snarled, “What have you heard?” Could Kingsley have already spread the word through every club in St. James that the Luscious Loser had jilted him?
“Why, that you are to marry Kingsley,” he said with puzzlement. “It may not be sad news to you, but to me it is tragedy unbounded.”
The baronet sank to one knee, holding her hand, and said earnestly, “My darling Sybil—may I call you that? It’s how I always think of you in my dreams. I have loved you to distraction since first I saw your lovely face. Your style, your countenance, your beautiful flair for living—no other woman can touch the hem of your skirt!”
Sybil felt a warm glow of pleasure soothing her outrage as she looked into his pleading face. “Yes?” she said encouragingly.
“There is no reason you should care to have my hand, my heart, and my soul, but they are yours until the last trumpet sounds.”
Sir Edward paused for breath, then went on despairingly, “I am not wealthy, I am not a peer—but I swear that no man under the heavens could love you more than I do!” His voice rang with a sincerity that surprised them both.
Sybil stared down at him thoughtfully. “Do get up, you’ll ruin those elegant pantaloons.” While he gazed longingly after her, she wandered around the drawing room and weighed his offer.
True, a baronet and his wife were commoners, not peers, but she would be called Lady Loaming, and she had always thought Sir Edward had more style and taste than any other man she’d ever met. In addition, his dark looks were a perfect foil for her golden beauty while both Kingsley and Radcliffe had suffered from the grave defect of being as blond as she was.
Sybil turned abruptly and asked, “How old is your baronetcy?”
“Why, it’s one of the original ones established by James I in 1611. We yield to no other baronet in precedence. The family is much older, of course. In fact, the first Edward Loaming was one of the knights who went over to Henry Tudor at Bosworth Field.”
The decision took only a moment’s more thought. It would make a wonderfully romantic story that Sybil Debenham, who could have had anyone, had jilted a viscount to marry a baronet for love. She lifted her head and basked a bit at the picture. Her mother would be disappointed, but relieved that the issue was settled.
Besides, Sybil thought as a slow smile lit her flawless, heart-shaped face, shelikedSir Edward.
“Very well, I’ll marry you.”
His eyes popped in surprise. “Youwill?”
The baronet grabbed for his composure and said, his hand pressed to his breast, “Words cannot express the joy in my heart!”
She waved her hand impatiently. “Of course. We can be married the week after Easter in St. George’s, Hanover Square. The church is already reserved and there is just enough time for you to arrange to have the banns read.”
Sybil gave him a piercing glance. “I want to make one thing perfectly clear. My fortune is held in a trust which I control, so I shall continue to control the money. I will clear your present debts and give you an allowance ample for a gentleman’s needs, but if you beggar yourself gaming, you can go to debtors’ prison for all of me.”
Sir Edward considered for a moment, then nodded his head. It must be a sign of advancing years when the thought of having someone else running his life was not without appeal. He loved gaming less for its own sake than because it was so gentlemanly; he could live without it.
But what produced a satisfaction so intense that it neared ecstasy was the knowledge that he had succeeded in stealing Kingsley’s woman. It was the perfect revenge, and the baronet spent a moment imagining the expression of humiliation and fury on the revolting viscount’s face when he found that Sybil had thrown him over for Sir Edward Loaming.
He gave a sigh of utter contentment. “My darling, I would rather live under the cat’s paw with you than reign in heaven with anyone else.”
To his surprise, he meant it.
Chapter 20
Alex gave Annabelle an encouraging smile as he helped her out of the carriage in front of Radcliffe House. She seemed very nervous about this tea party. The evening before, she had confided that she and the Earl of Radcliffe were reaching an understanding. “An earl, Belle? You’re flying high!”
She had blushed prettily. “Oh, Alex, he’s wonderful, not at all like . . .” She couldn’t quite bring herself to mention Sir Edward’s name.
Relegating the baronet to history, she implored, “Please, could you come with me to meet his mother tomorrow? I’m terrified! I know she will think I am unworthy of her son. And the sad part is”—she added with a wail—“she’sright!”
“We’ll have none of that, Belle,” Alex said firmly. “By birth, character, and beauty, you are suited to anyone in the land. Radcliffe can think himself lucky if you will accept him.”
“It hasn’t gone quite that far,” Annabelle said cautiously. “But I do hope you will lend me your support tomorrow.”
