Page 14 of Too Wylde To Tame
Delia’s dubious expression was telling enough. She was far from convinced, as well. “You said yourself that you needed to find a husband this season. That if you do not, your parents will force you to go back to Bath. And I think, given half a chance, that Lord Frederick would ask. He’s very taken with you! And you are very taken with him. Aren’t you?”
Charity didn’t want to say yes. She didn’t want to admit it, especially given that she had essentially told him they could have nothing further to do with one another. “That doesn’t matter. I will not be the bone two dogs fight over. It would only end in disaster.”
“You’re looking for problems where there are none! You’ve no interest in Lord Jameson and you will tell him so. You will tell him you know about his deceit with the roses and that you will not have such immoral people in your life. Then you shall speak to the Viscount and tell him you have reconsidered.”
“I can’t!”
“You can. You’re simply scared to. He’s the only man who has ever paid attention to you whose attentions you actually wanted,” Delia insisted.
The ring of truth in her cousin’s words halted Charity’s protests. She could not deny it. Not a single word of it. “I’ve made a terrible mess of it.”
“Messes can be tidied up. One just has to know where to start.”
Charity reached out and took her cousin’s hand. “You have always been the voice of reason. Always. Felicity was the voice of caution in our foursome. Benny the voice curiosity.”
“And you? What is your voice?”
“Normally the loudest,” Charity admitted with a rueful grin. “You are right. And I will do what you’ve said. I just need to figure out how to go about it.”
“Promise you will not let this opportunity pass you by,” Delia urged.
“I won’t. I promise.”
* * *
Jameson was furious.He’d played his hand too soon. Boasting of his scheme with the flowers had been a mistake. It had given Frederick enough information to ruin his chances with Miss Wylde. The prospect of stealing her from beneath his brother’s nose had only added to her appeal. He had been weighing his options. To win her and discard would mean victory in the wager with his friends. But winning her and keeping her would mean making his brother miserable for a lifetime. The more he heard about the Wylde family, the more he realized that Charity Wylde would, at the very least, have a generous marriage settlement. In short, there was greater benefit to marrying her than discarding her. He would have to sacrifice a bit of his pride either way, Ollie would be displeased.
If he meant to win her, regardless of the final outcome, he’d need to do something to impede Fredericks’ pursuit of her. Perhaps an injury. The gathered gentlemen were supposed to ride the following day. An improperly cinched saddle would likely not kill him. Of course if it did, he wouldn’t ned Charity Wylde’s fortune. He’d have the entirety of the Dartwell holdings at his disposal then. But if dear old Freddie were at least injured, he’d spend the house party convalescing and propriety would never allow Miss Wylde to visit him in his sick room. There was truly no way for him to lose in that scenario.
He might have had an attack of conscience in years past. But Jameson had discovered that the more frequently one did awful things, the less one was bothered by them. And he’d done a vast number of truly terrible things in the past few years. Each heinous act committed for the sake of easing the unbearable resentment that burned inside him for having been born the second son.
Frederick didn’t deserve all the good fortune that had been bestowed on him. At the very least, he didn’t deserve it any more than he himself did by virtue of an accident of birth.
The more Jameson ruminated on the matter the more convinced he became that, while it wasn’t necessarily the right course of action, it was the most beneficial. At least to him. And at the end of the day, that was what mattered. It would, one way or another, give him some or all of the things he wanted. What befell his brother or Miss Charity Wylde as a result of it was of no concern to him.
Whistling a little tune to himself, an obscene ditty he’d picked up in one of the worst brothels London had to offer, he took himself off in search of something stronger than the insipid lemonade, tea or even wine that was on offer for the afternoon. For once, he would practice moderation. If he meant to sabotage Frederick’s equipage, he couldn’t indulge his love of spirits too deeply. After all, he had work to do.
NINE
The drawing room was full of guests, all of them assembled there to enjoy a bit of wine and conversation prior to dinner. Frederick scanned the crowded room. It was without conscious thought, searching for some glimpse of her. He was also searching for Jameson. The old adage about keeping one’s friends close and one’s enemies closer should not apply to a sibling, but there it was. Jameson’s resentment of him had grown to a point that everything his brother said and did was suspect.
No sooner had he thought of him than he spied him lurking near a set of French doors that led out on to the terrace. He did not approach him. Another skirmish was the last thing either of them needed. Antagonizing him further when he was clearly already so unreasonably angry would only make the remaining time at Randford House even more difficult.
In truth, he’d considered packing up and returning to his own estate. After all, Miss Wylde had made her position very clear. Her rejection of him was sound and for all the right reasons, but that didn’t make it any less bitter to swallow. The idea of leaving her alone when Jameson’s motives remained unknown to everyone but him was giving him second thoughts.
“Good evening, Welbey,” Randford said, approaching him with two drinks in his large hands. He passed one to him. “No brandy, I’m afraid. Not till after dinner when the ladies have closeted themselves in one room and we’ve all been banished to another. Port is a tolerable substitute.”
“So it is,” he agreed, accepting the glass. “I need to ask something of you. I had been considering an early departure, but I have changed my mind about that.. My brother is up to something—I think his courtship of Miss Wylde may be legitimate but his motives in doing so are… nefarious. You will be in a far better position to look after her than I will.”
Randford shook his head. “You’re giving up? Just like that?”
“Miss Wylde was correct in refusing me. Her reasons are logical and very sound. She does not want to be a point of contention between myself and Jameson. Being in the middle puts her at risk and that is the last thing I would ever want.”
“The women of the Wylde family are not easy. They are complex creatures with minds of their own and all of them have more stubbornness than any one human ought ever possess. But they are well worth the effort required to woo them. Do not give up. Not just yet. Remain, persevere and you can look after her yourself.”
He might have dug in his heels. But the drawing room door opened then and the Misses Wylde entered. He understood, objectively, that Cordelia Wylde was pretty enough. But she might as well have been invisible. He had eyes only for Charity. The deep emerald green silk that she wore made her skin glow. Her blonde hair was in some style that he’d never know the name of. But it was half up and half down, with part of it cascading over her shoulder in a mass of curls. All he wanted in that moment was to feel those silken tresses in his hands.
“I will remain.”
