Page 5 of The Baron Takes a Bet
“Impending rain? It’s just a bit overcast,” Gavin said at the same time a roll of thunder sounded above them. Glancing up at the ceiling, with its dark wood beams, he smiled again and returned his attention to the butler. “But then, who am I to argue with locals?”
The butler seemed to be debating the question.
“Uh, well, My lord…”
“No, never mind it,” Gavin said, waving his hand. “What is your name?”
The butler squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest.
“Dougherty, my lord. Underbutler.”
“Underbutler? And where is your superior?”
“Mr. Jorden is with the baroness and Mr. Armstrong. If you will,” he said, bowing and stretching his arm out. “I thought to introduce you to the staff first, so you could attend to the rest of your business uninterrupted today.”
Gavin couldn’t argue with that and nodded.
“Very well.”
Mr. Dougherty bowed yet again and led him to the line of servants.
“This is Mr. Caplan, Mrs. Sheen, Mr. James…”
Gavin nodded at each servant, saying each name in his head three times as he did to remember them. It was a trick his father had taught him once as a lad.
Although Gavin had a cook, butler, and housekeeper at his London residence, Kingston House had nearly two dozen employees. He doubted there would be much room for solitude in a place like this, which unnerved him slightly. He had always been relatively comfortable with being alone. As soon as his income with the bank had allowed for it, he’d set up his ownhousehold separate from Aunt Marnie. He still supported her quite handsomely, of course—setting her up in a respectably sized home for a single, elderly woman, with a full staff and all her bills sent directly to him—but he’d ensured that she lived at a reasonable distance from his own London home.
And it wasn’t just Aunt Marnie from whom he appreciated a bit of distance. Gavin had always enjoyed social settings like balls and soirées, but he would disappear without so much as a farewell whenever he decided he wanted to leave. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t good at goodbyes, but he avoided them at all costs. It was why he never took on a permanent lover. He was always more comfortable with courtesans. Theirs was a transaction, a primal chore that required seeing to. No drama, no fuss, no commitment—just a fair exchange of goods for services. The business was business, even if Silas Winters, the Duke of Combe, thought otherwise.
Gavin smirked at the thought of his friend, whose recent second marriage had turned him into a damn convert on the ideas of romantic love and familial contentment. He was happy for Silas, who had suffered greatly in his first marriage, but Gavin had always been able to use that first marriage as proof that a man was wiser to stay alone. While their mutual friend Derek had argued that one needed a wife to procreate, Gavin saw no need to do so. Yes, he was the last living heir to the barony, but what of that? He felt no particular compulsion to see the line continued. Perhaps it had run its course.
After the staff introductions, he followed Mr. Dougherty into the parlor, where he was met by not two but five people, all of whom stopped speaking immediately upon entering the room.
Mr. Armstrong sat across the way from two ladies dressed in black gowns who were far more attractive than Gavin had anticipated. He had assumed his uncle had married some plain-faced spinster who hadn’t been able to snag a husband due to alack of attraction, but as he beheld the woman in front of him, he saw that this was not the case.
Though they were sitting, the two ladies appeared to be the same height, though the one closer to him had a slightly rounder face, appearing somewhat innocent compared to her more angular-faced, blue-eyed counterpart. Both had rich walnut-colored hair pulled back and twisted into near-matching styles, though the blue-eyed lady wore a grey teardrop pearl pendant around her neck. She was decidedly less angelic looking of the two, but there was something about her that commanded all of his attention.
“The Baron Bairnsdale,” Mr. Dougherty said with a low bow. “May I present the Lady Bairnsdale, Mr. Armstrong, Miss Katrina Smyth, and Mr. Jasper Smyth.”
“A pleasure,” Gavin said with a bow, but when he raised his head, neither lady had moved. In fact, the lady with the pearl necklace only stared, her mouth slightly open, her expression suddenly panicky. He quickly surveyed the room and realized that everyone was staring at him.
The pearl-wearing lady returned her attention to Mr. Armstrong without so much as a hello.
“There has to be some sort of mistake,” she said, her voice deeper than Gavin had expected but quite lovely. “John wouldn’t have done something like this. Certainly not without at the very least explaining his reasons to me. But even then, I cannot believe he would have done so, because he would know that I would never agree to it.”
“But you did agree, my lady,” Mr. Armstrong insisted nervously. He reached for several papers and held them up. “This is your signature, is it not?”
So, this was his late uncle’s wife, Gavin thought. Even frowning, she appeared far too pretty to be wed to an elderly,dying man. He could only assume her motive had been to gain some sort of inheritance.
“Yes,” she said. “But half this document is in Latin, as you know very well since you were the lawyer who presented it to me to be signed. I was under the impression that it was marrying me to John. When you explained the terms, I distinctly remember you saying thesixthbaron.”
“But the paper says seventh.”
“Butyousaid sixth. I heard you. You said John’s name.”
“Yes, because he was the representative. I’m very sorry, my lady, but it is indeed all here,” the lawyer said, shaking his papers. “You can petition for a dissolvent, I suppose.”
“Yes. Yes, do that, straight away.”
