Mrs. Rattigan’s estate on their marriage and no doubt he’ll receive some kind of allowance as Downholland’s heir.”
“I see.” Julius poured himself another glass, his movements leisurely. “If I were you, I’d write a warning to Mrs. Rattigan. Tell her how matters lie. Then she can make her own decision.”
Dankworth abandoned his booth and strode toward another. In the other booth, new entrants were settling, namely Miss Louisa Stobart and her family. Tonight was turning into the kind of evening Alex preferred to forget.
Miss Stobart appeared to advantage, her gown a confection of white and pink designed to make her appear sweet. More like candied roses than a real living, breathing woman. But a voracious chaser, as Alex had reason to know. She’d returned to town as game as ever.
Unbidden, a picture of Connie came to his mind, her hair tousled, cobwebs hanging from the sleeve of a severely practical gown. The only adornment she needed was the smile that melted his heart.
She’d spoiled him for other women. Not even the most practiced courtesan would be able to raise Alex’s attention right now. His father favored Louisa Stobart but Alex couldn’t bear marrying a woman with no conversation outside the latest fashions and the people she knew, moreover, one with such a spiteful streak. Louisa wasn’t kind to anyone, least of all her friends. Her fortune gave her the leeway to say more than others, and at present society considered her a wit.
Dankworth offered Miss Stobart his arm. She took it and stepped through the small opening separating her box from the dance floor. Now the picture of propriety, he promenaded around the edge of the area, stopping to chat with the various occupants.
“He’s distancing himself from the raffish crowd he was with.” Alex watched the scene with distaste. What was Dankworth doing with Miss Stobart? He couldn’t court her. He was already betrothed.
“He’s coming this way,” Julius murmured. “I suggest you make yourself scarce for ten minutes, Alex. Give me the field. Besides, he’ll know you’re angry with him. You’re not good at hiding that particular emotion.”
Good advice. Alex slipped out of the door at the back of the booth. After a pleasant stroll around the gardens that helped to calm his wayward mood, Alex returned in better spirits.
Julius met him with grim news. His face was as still and hard as stone. “Dankworth is announcing his engagement to Miss Stobart. He introduced me to the lady he has just asked to marry him.”
“Why would he do that, when our family and his are at odds?”
Julius shrugged, his well-cut coat settling back into place without a ripple. “I was charming to them.”
Alex’s sick anger returned threefold. He’d kill the man. “He’s affianced to Mrs. Rattigan. They’ve signed the contract.”
Julius’s mouth settled into a flat line. “But nobody in town knows that. I suspect he finds himself under the hatches and he needs something more than Mrs. Rattigan can give him. Is the betrothal well known?”
“Not in London.” The Downhollands didn’t visit frequently and their estate wasn’t large enough to excite interest. Dankworth couldn’t marry two women.
“I smell danger, Alex. He’s cornered and cornered rats become dangerous. The first thing is to warn Mrs. Rattigan. Tell her that we will investigate the situation and wait on her instructions. Suggest that she contacts Lord Downholland and if she trusts him, ask him to act on her behalf.”
“I will most certainly write to her,” Alex said grimly. He would write it that night, as soon as he got home. And one to the Downhollands, too. Damn his local stint as magistrate, Lord Downholland should be attending his heir in town.
At least Alex could ensure that Connie was in possession of the facts. She needed to act. And perhaps, if she decided to break the contract, Alex could repair the mistake he made. He should never have left the field for
“I see.” Julius poured himself another glass, his movements leisurely. “If I were you, I’d write a warning to Mrs. Rattigan. Tell her how matters lie. Then she can make her own decision.”
Dankworth abandoned his booth and strode toward another. In the other booth, new entrants were settling, namely Miss Louisa Stobart and her family. Tonight was turning into the kind of evening Alex preferred to forget.
Miss Stobart appeared to advantage, her gown a confection of white and pink designed to make her appear sweet. More like candied roses than a real living, breathing woman. But a voracious chaser, as Alex had reason to know. She’d returned to town as game as ever.
Unbidden, a picture of Connie came to his mind, her hair tousled, cobwebs hanging from the sleeve of a severely practical gown. The only adornment she needed was the smile that melted his heart.
She’d spoiled him for other women. Not even the most practiced courtesan would be able to raise Alex’s attention right now. His father favored Louisa Stobart but Alex couldn’t bear marrying a woman with no conversation outside the latest fashions and the people she knew, moreover, one with such a spiteful streak. Louisa wasn’t kind to anyone, least of all her friends. Her fortune gave her the leeway to say more than others, and at present society considered her a wit.
Dankworth offered Miss Stobart his arm. She took it and stepped through the small opening separating her box from the dance floor. Now the picture of propriety, he promenaded around the edge of the area, stopping to chat with the various occupants.
“He’s distancing himself from the raffish crowd he was with.” Alex watched the scene with distaste. What was Dankworth doing with Miss Stobart? He couldn’t court her. He was already betrothed.
“He’s coming this way,” Julius murmured. “I suggest you make yourself scarce for ten minutes, Alex. Give me the field. Besides, he’ll know you’re angry with him. You’re not good at hiding that particular emotion.”
Good advice. Alex slipped out of the door at the back of the booth. After a pleasant stroll around the gardens that helped to calm his wayward mood, Alex returned in better spirits.
Julius met him with grim news. His face was as still and hard as stone. “Dankworth is announcing his engagement to Miss Stobart. He introduced me to the lady he has just asked to marry him.”
“Why would he do that, when our family and his are at odds?”
Julius shrugged, his well-cut coat settling back into place without a ripple. “I was charming to them.”
Alex’s sick anger returned threefold. He’d kill the man. “He’s affianced to Mrs. Rattigan. They’ve signed the contract.”
Julius’s mouth settled into a flat line. “But nobody in town knows that. I suspect he finds himself under the hatches and he needs something more than Mrs. Rattigan can give him. Is the betrothal well known?”
“Not in London.” The Downhollands didn’t visit frequently and their estate wasn’t large enough to excite interest. Dankworth couldn’t marry two women.
“I smell danger, Alex. He’s cornered and cornered rats become dangerous. The first thing is to warn Mrs. Rattigan. Tell her that we will investigate the situation and wait on her instructions. Suggest that she contacts Lord Downholland and if she trusts him, ask him to act on her behalf.”
“I will most certainly write to her,” Alex said grimly. He would write it that night, as soon as he got home. And one to the Downhollands, too. Damn his local stint as magistrate, Lord Downholland should be attending his heir in town.
At least Alex could ensure that Connie was in possession of the facts. She needed to act. And perhaps, if she decided to break the contract, Alex could repair the mistake he made. He should never have left the field for
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