Page 55 of One Wicked Secret
“Papers?” Elsa said, feigning ignorance.
“Yes, for failing to abide by the contract between my late husband and your father. As your guardian, your brother is legally obliged to ensure you comply. My son won’t wait forever.”
As if taking his cue, Lord Denby exited the tobacconist and came to a crashing halt. He was tall and dark with a strong patrician nose far too large for his face.
He sneered at Daniel. “Dalton.”
“Denby.”
He turned to Elsa and bowed. “Miss Tyler. What apleasant surprise.” His unreadable gaze swept over her turquoise pelisse. “When did you arrive in town?”
“Fairly recently.”
“Did you receive my letters? Your silence suggests not.”
No letters were found at Edenberry.
“I’ve been away from home these last six months.”
“Rumour is you accompanied your brother on a Grand Tour. I would have intervened had I known. The mere idea is preposterous.”
Daniel didn’t inject because the more these pompous fools spoke, the more information they revealed.
“Ignoring a solicitor’s letter carries serious penalties,” Lady Denby said over her dog’s incessant yapping. “I trust your grieving period is over, and you’re able to meet your obligation to my son. Indeed, we must insist you return with us to Denby House. It’s the only way to save your brother from debtors’ prison.”
Denby scanned the street, his eyes narrowing. “Where is your maid, Miss Tyler? Surely, you’re not out shopping unchaperoned.”
Elsa was saved by the arrival of Denby’s spirited sister, Miss Denby, her breathless maid scuttling behind.
“Mama, you simply must come. I’ve found the most exquisite bonnet in the prettiest pink you’ve ever seen. It has the most wonderful silk ribbons and a brooch that sparkles like a dozen tiny stars.”
“Not now, Madeline,” her mother snapped.
Miss Denby glanced at Daniel with eager interest. She didn’t wait for an introduction. “It’s Mr Dalton, is it not? You watchedThe Merchant of Veniceat The Alexandria from the Marquess of Rothley’s private box.”
Daniel bowed. “I did.”
Miss Denby fluttered her long, dark lashes. “Is the marquess with you today? I would very much like to meet him.”
“I’m afraid not.” Rothley would eat this chit alive. It didn’t matter that Miss Denby was pretty. If Venus emerged naked from the sea foam, Rothley would appear indifferent.
“Oh, how disappointing.”
Deciding to move his knight into an attacking position, he said, “I’m shopping with my wife. Allow me to present Mrs Dalton.”
While Miss Denby curtsied, her mother had kittens.
“What! What nonsense is this? Sir, this is no time to jest. This is a serious legal matter. Miss Tyler is contractually obliged to marry my son.” When the dog barked, she cried, “Be quiet, Foofoo. I’m in no mood for your tantrums.”
Denby straightened, keen to appear intimidating. “I fail to find your joke amusing, Dalton. As her brother’s friend, I’m sure you know Miss Tyler is betrothed to me. Indeed, I demand to know why the devil she’s parading about town without a chaperone.”
“We never announced our betrothal,” Elsa countered. “I understand my brother found a glaring error in the contract.”
“Error?” Denby barked. “What error?”
“I don’t know. You will have to speak to Magnus.”
“I would if I could find the devil.”
