“That wasn’t flirting. We were arguing. Genuinely arguing.”
Tweedie shrugged. “You were paying attention to each other. I believe the man is more than willing to marry you. Granted, there is this scandal, but he doesn’t appear as if he has been coerced. In fact, to be candid, Dara, marrying you is something of a commitment. You are a headstrong woman. I’m impressed with him. He didn’t show one sign of fear when he presented himself today.”
“But what am I without my family?” The question haunted Dara. “Elise’s accusations are right.” She had wanted everything about this Season to go well. Instead, she had ruined it.
At that moment, Gwendolyn came down the stairs. She gave Dara a wan smile. “Everything will be all right,” she promised. “Elise had her mind made up about him—unbeknownst to us. I mean, we knew she had a tendre for him. Even I hadn’t realized how strong a one.”
Dara had known. She understood Elise better than anyone else in this family.
“This has been a shock,” Gwendolyn continued, “but she will work it out.” She removed several pieces of paper from the secretary and picked up pen and ink. “She wants to write. I think it wise.” Gwendolyn went upstairs.
***
Michael wasn’t one for introspection. He considered the facts of a situation, made up his mind, and then acted.
That was what he’d done over Dara Lanscarr.
He’d been stunned when he’d first heard the outlandish rumors. When he’d gone to his club and men he’d always considered reasonable and somewhat staid snickered and elbowed him like overgrown schoolboys, he knew Dara had a problem. Their behavior angered him, especially since she had been heroic. She should be lauded, not ridiculed.
The loudest voices were those of fathers who had daughters in this Season’s Marriage Mart, daughters who perhaps felt they weren’t receiving their due because of the attention the Lanscarrs generated. The bitter among thetonwere very happy to mock three genteel Irish women audacious enough to test their fortunes in London. Theinnuendoes were not going to die down quickly. Not without action.
So he’d made his decision, and had been bemused to realize it had been an easy one to make. It was as if something inside him was glad to take Dara to wife. One moment he’d thought of himself as alone and happy; in the next, he discovered she was perfectly right for him.
The kiss had something to do with that. The second kiss convinced him they were a very good match. He wondered what a third kiss would prove, and he was anxious to find out.
Of course, that was before Elise had thrown her tantrum.
His conscience was clear on the subject of the younger sister. Yes, he’d initially been attracted to her, but as time had passed Dara had proved the more interesting Lanscarr. Other than a mild flirtation at the beginning of their acquaintance, one started under his guise of taking a more active role in Society, he’d made no promises to Elise.
In fact, as time passed, he’d started calling on the Lanscarrs with the purpose of annoying Dara, and he’d been very good at it. Good enough to even fall inlove—
Michael shook his head, feeling a bit embarrassed at the direction of his thoughts. He wasn’t given to flowery words. Or strong emotions.
And yet he had very clear feelings about Dara.Feelings of attraction, interest, lust... and, since that word kept cropping up in his mind, possibly love? Actually, he wasn’t certain what love was. The word was used often by Society until it had little meaning. Excepthedidn’t use it. It was not part ofhisvocabulary, and that he would think of it in relation to Dara, whom he was anxious to see again, was telling... because shehadto marry him. She must. Without an honorable marriage, this story would follow her, even home to Ireland. He also didn’t wish to be refused.
Michael had been so caught up chewing over his feelings for Dara, he didn’t realize he had arrived at his destination until he almost passed it by. Brooks’s was his great-uncle Lord Holsworthy’s club. Before Michael put an announcement in the papers—and he couldn’t wait to announce his betrothal to Dara—he should break the news to his benefactor. Holsworthy was a stickler for being respected.
He found his lordship in one of Brooks’s side rooms. His great-uncle had tufts of white hair poking out from under an old-fashioned bagwig. He was closing in on seventy-five and not aging well, possibly because he kept a bottle of port beside him at all times. He was a tall, narrow man with a pronounced belly. Like his wig, his clothing was definitely out of fashion.
By all accounts, Holsworthy might be the wealthiest man in Britain. Michael didn’t knowif that was true. Holsworthy was very close-lipped about his affairs. Michael had experienced his great-uncle’s largesse over the years, even though, as an MP, he no longer needed an allowance. Still, it had been nice to have the help for his schooling. Holsworthy also paid a living for his mother and for his half brother, Ian, who was fifteen years younger than Michael’s thirty.
Almost two decades ago, the earl had sent a representative to Ireland for him. Holsworthy’s son had died, and he had come looking for the next male in line, his great-nephew, Michael. Holsworthy had plucked Michael out of Ireland and set him up in school in England. Education had been a true gift, and Michael was always respectful of his uncle.
But he’d never forgotten his mother’s warning that Holsworthy always extracted a price. “Neither your grandfather nor your father, bless their souls, trusted him. They said he only looked out for himself. Be certainyoulook out for yourself.” Wise words that Michael heeded, even though he and his great-uncle rubbed along well.
Today might test the relationship.
The earl sat in his usual spot, a well-worn upholstered chair next to a wall of books. Michael had no doubt that his uncle had read most of them. He had a book in his hand even now.
Holsworthy sensed Michael’s presence and looked up from his reading, his spectacles onthe end of his nose. He had his shoe off and one stockinged foot propped on a footstool.
“I was just thinking of you,” Holsworthy said in greeting. He turned down a corner of the page to mark his spot. The book belonged to the club; however, Holsworthy treated Brooks’s as if it was his personal domain. “Come, sit. Rogers,” he called to a waiting porter, “bring young Brogan here whatever he wishes. No, bring him a brandy. Another for me as well.”
“Should you?” Michael asked, taking the indicated chair.
“I’m already in pain. Damn gout. Brandy may help it.” Holsworthy set his book on a side table. “I was almost ready to send for you. Any more on your suspicions that there is a thief in the government?”
Michael shifted in his chair before answering. Last week, frustrated by his lack of progress over the embezzlement, he had discussed it with his lordship. The earl had held some of the highest positions in government. Michael had hoped his experience might have given him some insight that could help.
