“My niece doesn’t know her own mind, nor can she be allowed to make such a decision.”
Philip was shocked. He knew families who arranged marriages when the children were still in leading strings, but to hear an uncle coldly dismiss the feelings of his adult niece seemed cruel.
“My brother,” Waltham continued, “is determined our ships shall not bring your brandy until this matter is settled.”
“You have taken my money,” Philip reminded him.
Waltham sighed, removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. After carefully replacing them, he said, “It shall be returned if necessary. Money is nothing compared to honor.”
“You do not have to explain to me about honor, sir. I was an officer in the king’s army.”
“Your actions here in London as I’ve heard them described are not those of a decent soldier.”
“Careful, Waltham. Your brother may be a viscount, but you are walking over thin ice. If you wish to make an accusation, then I suggest you, your brother, and your niece do so publicly before the magistrate and bring proof. But if you personally are calling my honor into question, then I suggest you get your affairs in order and secure your second, for we shall meet with pistols.”
Waltham paled. “Now, now, my lord. I am doing no such thing. Even the great Admiral Nelson and the Duke of Wellington had mistresses. But you must have pity on the girl.”
“Pity her, yes. Marry her, no. I shall not be blackmailed nor coerced,” Philip insisted. “Did you not receive a letter from the magistrate of Queen’s Square Court?”
“I was with my brother when he received it. The magistrate wants my niece to step forward before the Season is out and before everyone, including you, leaves Town. He said he would help adjudicate the matter. But my niece is not inclined to press it any further.”
“Then the matter is settled, and our business association can continue,” Philip said, glad to know Sir William’s letter had helped.
Waltham shrugged. “I for one believe in keeping one’s personal affairs out of one’s business dealings. But you must understand my brother cannot ship your brandy while there is a rumor you have ruined his daughter. His sense of honor is as great as yours.”
“Currently, there is no accusation to which I can respond and clear my name,” Philip reminded him. “It seems we are at an impasse, at least until the Season has concluded. At that time, if Miss Waltham has not accused me formally, then as the magistrate suggested, she must drop the matter. The threat of it cannot hang over my head indefinitely like the sword of Damocles. Nor can I wait longer than that for my shipment of brandy.”
Philip not only had to keep himself out of trouble and make sure Miss Bright remained above any hint of immorality in order to keep the magistrate on his side, but he also had to hope Miss Waltham kept everyone guessing until it was too late to ensnare him.
“If you agree to marry my niece now,” Waltham proposed, “then I promise you your barrels of brandy will arrive swiftly. Otherwise, they may fall off my ships in the Channel or they may end up in the cellars of this very building, where King George’s officers store the seized wine and spirits of dubious quality or those lacking the proper import permission.”
Philip rose to his feet. “I assume you speak in jest for those do not sound like the words of an honorable man.”
“Unlike you and my brother, I am a simple man of business,” Waltham said, his eyes alert and cunning. “I, for one, hope everything works out to your satisfaction, as I know we can make a good profit together. But my hands are tied, and I can do nothing for you until you marry my niece by the Season’s end or she chooses another.”
Philip left feeling as if the enemies were outflanking him despite Bright’s letter to Perrin.
The only sliver of light in the darkness of his situation was that he was forced to enjoy Miss Bright’s company for the remainder of the Season. And that was no hardship at all.
THEIR NEXT EVENT WAS a much smaller dinner party, only fifteen couples, all strangers to Miranda except for Lady Harriet and her friend Lady Emily, and of course Lord Mercer. As there was to be no dancing, her aunt had been given the night off and her father escorted her to the home of Lord and Lady Hartwell, leaving her in the care of the married hosts.
Officially the baron’s partner for the evening, Miranda felt not the slightest trepidation and looked forward to the experience with great anticipation.
Upon entering the upstairs drawing room, her gaze swept over the brightly colored silk and satin gowns before she spied Lord Mercer. He was speaking with a dark-haired young lady, and Miranda had the most uncomfortable jolt of jealousy.
Ridiculous!He was only her partner due to an arrangement with her father, and she would do well to remember that. But the young lady beside him was lovely and seemed to have commanded his full attention.
Miranda accepted a glass of wine and chatted with other guests to whom their hosts introduced her while keeping her gaze upon Lord Mercer. When he saw her, he smiled broadly, making her stomach flutter. Rapidly, he took his leave of the lady and left his place by the mantel, coming directly to her.
“You are unencumbered,” he quipped after a bow over her hand, noting the absence of Aunt Lucinda.
She curtsied. “Indeed, my lord. After all, how much trouble can one get into in a drawing room or a dining room?”
His grin made her toes curl inside her dove-gray slippers.
“I would love to show you,” he whispered, and her tingling toes were nothing compared to the sizzling shiver that went down her spine, tickling the juncture between her thighs.
The man was made of sin!What’s more, whenever she was around him, she felt more than a little sinful herself. Her mind raced, trying to imagine what he could mean.
