Page 42 of The Baron Takes a Bet
Holly’s head swiveled.
“You like the décor at Kingston House?”
“Yes, of course. It’s subtle and rather comforting,” he said, glancing around. “Quite the opposite of this place. It reminds me of a villa I stayed in once, while travelling through Italy.” Holly’s cheeks warmed, and he gave her a pointed gaze. “What is it?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing,” she said, unwilling to explain that she had decorated Kingston House herself.
A stout man in his forties with salt and pepper hair stepped forward. Dressed in a butler’s uniform, he quickly bowed, though he seemed rushed.
“Lord Bairnsdale, Lady Bairnsdale, may I introduce myself. I’m Mr. Spieth.”
“Yes, I remember you,” Gavin said with a frown as he noted the man’s hurried appearance. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, my lord, I—”
“Gavin!”
A high-pitched screech echoed throughout the hallway. Holly faced her husband, whose warm, welcoming manner instantly vanished. His mouth became hard, his hazel eyes grew serious, and his entire body seemed to tense.
“Aunt Marnie,” he growled under his breath as the butler hemmed apologetically.
“She arrived this morning and refused to leave, my lord.”
A short woman with what looked like a permanent scowl came bustling out of the room to their left. She wore a high-neck lace collar that covered a high-neck gown the color of charcoal. A lace cape that covered her whitish red hair sat atop her head. Her pale eyes seemed both angry and frightened as she stared at the pair of them, arm in arm.
“Is this her? John’s final mistake?” she sneered, coming forward as she glared Holly up and down. “Pretty, I suppose, if you were a weak man.”
“I beg your pardon?” Holly asked when Gavin stepped forward, effectively blocking her from the old woman.
“I didn’t know you were in London, Aunt Marnie. What are you doing here?”
“I only just arrived this morning. You know this was my home before that wretched brother of mine kicked me out and turned it into a house of vulgarity.” She squinted around the foyer before her gaze landed back on Holly. “And I came because of a rumor I heard that I pray is not true.”
“What rumor?” Gavin asked, moving passed her into an extravagantly decorated sitting room.
Holly struggled to keep her mouth closed as she gawked at the room. Three massive, floor-to-ceiling windows lined the front wall, framed by royal purple drapes hanging from the gold curtain rods. As her eyes scanned the brashly decorated walls, they rose to the ceiling where a shocking mural had been painted. Holly immediately adverted her eyes, making a mental note to avoid this room at all costs.
“Don’t you feign innocence, my boy. I received a letter from my dear old friend Mrs. Shoemaker, who has lived these past seventy years a stone’s throw from Kingston House. She said she heard it from Mrs. Crompton, who heard it from the elder Mrs. Payne that there was a story in town going about how my brother hadn’t married this woman,” she said the last word with disdain. “But that he had stood in for you. A proxy marriage!”
“Is that so?” Gavin said, seemingly calm as he went to pour himself a drink, though Holly noted the tension in his shoulders.
“Well? Is it true?” she asked, her scornful gaze landing on Holly again. “Did my brother manage to ruin your life by shackling you to this… thiswoman?”
“‘Ruin’ is a rather harsh word, Aunt Marnie,” Gavin said, his tone practiced as he brought the drink to his lips, his eyes catching Holly’s. “I prefer to see it as ‘gifted.’”
The old woman’s eyes threatened to bulge out of her head.
“That wicked man! I knew it! I knew he would have his revenge on me!”
Holly was rapidly concluding that her presence was no longer needed. Backing away slowly, she tried to disappear into the hallway when the old aunt pointed a bony finger at her, stopping Holly in her tracks.
“I’m sure you’re culpable! What did he offer you? A fortune, no doubt, to try and swindle my nephew—”
“Aunt Marnie,” Gavin said, his tone one of warning.
“I didn’t know about the proxy marriage, actually,” Holly said, lifting her hands as if to deflect the old woman’s accusations. “John didn’t explain—”
“Didn’t explain what? His evil lifestyle? His devious plot to steal Gavin away from me?”
