Page 12 of Tempting a Lonely Lord
As William spoke, he couldn’t help but notice the tension radiating from the earl—a simmering unease just beneath the surface. The earl’s gaze flicked sharply, first toward his mother, then toward Bella, carrying a shadow of barely restrained anger.
Despite the undercurrent of hostility, he accepted William’s hand and nodded curtly. “And what of this so-called buried treasure?” he asked in a surly tone, his skepticism evident.
“Oh, Grandmère mentioned a fabled story about a treasure in the area,” Bella replied quickly, her tone calm. “Michael is simply fascinated by anything to do with pirates—that’s all.”
“So, it’s nothing more than an old wives’ tale,” Bridgewater said dismissively, his irritation cutting sharply in Bella’s direction.
“Not an old wives’ tale,” his mother interjected firmly. “We are going into the village tomorrow to make some inquiries.”
The earl let out an impatient huff. “Well, when you’re done with yourinquiries,” he replied, his tone laced with sarcasm, “perhaps you should take your granddaughter to the modiste’s shop while you’re in town and see that she’s fitted for a proper ball gown.”
“And why would Bella need a new ball gown?” Lady Bridgewater said, with narrowed eyes.
“We’ve just received an invitation. Baron Darkmoor is hosting a ball in two weeks, and we shall all be attending,” the earl announced, his tone curt. Turning to his mother, he added, “Mother, dear, please ensure Bella has a proper gown for the occasion. Baron Darkmoor is a significant figure in the area, and it would be prudent to cultivate his goodwill.”
His gaze flicked pointedly toward William before he continued. “Regrettably, I won’t be able to join your little tea party, Bella. I have pressing estate matters to attend to,” he said, his tone cool and devoid of the familial warmth one might expect from an uncle. With that, the earl strode from the room, leaving a tangible tension behind.
William couldn’t help but notice the matching expressions etched on the grandmothers’ faces and the flicker of unease in Bella’s lovely eyes. He had yet to make Baron Darkmoor’s acquaintance, but he resolved to learn everything he could about the man and why the earl seemed determined to court his favor.
~*~
Chapter Five
Stephen stormed from the drawing room, his emotions swirling like a tempest. He glanced back at the scene behind him. Bella laughed at something cute the little boy had said. Grandmother Harrington was laughing and fawning over both guests. Even his mother—who was normally reserved—was animated and enjoying a cheery conversation with Viscount Dudley and the young boy. The stark contrast of their merriment to his own inner darkness only deepened the churning in his gut.
It felt like they were living in two different worlds—he lived in one plagued by burdens only he understood. He had squandered another small fortune on the baron, a man known for his ability to read a room and predict his opponents’ weaknesses, a man of extreme wealth and a mysterious past. Word in London was that the baron’s fortune rivaled that of the richest peers.
The only reason Stephen had gambled today was to win back some of his losses. But his strategy once again had come up short. He couldn’t recall ever succeeding against the baron—except, perhaps, at a few very early hands. That was years ago. Every time Stephen tried to win, he just fell deeper into debt. At first, he had hoped to reverse his luck to prove to Miles that he was worthy as a man, something he’d never felt when compared to his honorable brother.
Since his brother’s death, Stephen had hoped his mother would have turned to him for advice on financial matters. Which would have given him access to her considerable fortune. But no—she trusted the family solicitors, the sons of the old codgers his late father and brother had always relied upon. And that left Stephen with little more than a title and mounting frustration.
If only he had pursued his painting, as his brother had encouraged him to do for years. When he returned from theNapoleonic Wars, having seen things no one would want to see, he should have taken time to do something that would help soothe his spirit. Painting could have helped. Had he taken his brother’s advice, he might have achieved success by now—enough to secure the financial independence he so desperately craved. But instead, he had succumbed to the irresistible vices that had shadowed his life: wine, women, and gaming. Or more precisely in his case, cards.
This time, he had even tried to avoid the temptation of the free-flowing liquor—a lavish indulgence generously provided by the baron. All the food and drink one could desire, and then some. A fleeting thought crossed his mind—perhaps the baron had plotted against him. But he quickly dismissed the idea. He’d never accuse the baron of such a scheme. Stephen was many things, but a coward he was not, and blaming others for his troubles would be beneath him.
Regret coursed through him as he recalled the last words he’d exchanged with his brother—shortly before Miles’s untimely death. They’d had a heated argument over his gambling losses and excessive drinking.
Even then it had been too late to stop. His debts had already mounted to such an extent that the only solution was to keep playing and hope to win. Alas, his losses had been the only consistent thing in his life. The baron would be arriving soon, and the only thing he had told Stephen was that his debt had risen to a level that he now needed further concessions to cover his bills. Stephen could feel the weight of the baron’s demands on his shoulders. He needed a plan… and he needed it now.
A tap at the study door sounded, and Garrett stepped inside. “My lord, Baron Darkmoor has arrived. Shall I show him in?”
Damn!He needed a few more minutes to think. Unfortunately, he had nowhere to put Darkmoor. He couldn’tleave him waiting in the drawing room because his mother was entertaining Dudley and the boy. And he certainly wouldn’t have Garrett use his mother’s parlor. She was very strict about the use of that room. His brother had always let her have her way. And now wasn’t the time to get into a row with his mother over who was in charge.
Swallowing, he said, “Show him in, Garrett.”
A few moments later, the baron strode in. Garrett bowed and closed the door behind them.
“May I offer you some brandy, baron?”
“I appreciate the offer, Bridgewater, but I’ll get right to the point,” the baron said, seating himself in the cordovan leather chair across from Stephen’s desk. “Your debt has gotten to the point that I must demand a larger payment on it. Or call in the entire amount.”
“I… I see,” Stephen said, hating the tremble in his voice that betrayed his anxiousness. He had anticipated this, but still, hearing it out loud caused his insides to quake. If Darkmoor called in the debt, how in the blazes would he cover it? He didn’t have two farthings to rub together. Stephen cleared his throat. “I must speak to my man of business. It may take a few days.” Hopefully, that might buy him some time.
“I would advise you not to wait,” the baron said in a smoothly sinister tone. Reaching out, he picked up a small miniature of Bella sitting on the corner of Stephen’s desk.
Stephen had planned to remove his brother’s personal effects from the desk but had forgotten.
“Your niece?” the man asked.
