Page 90 of Nothing But a Rakehell
By the time she grew near, his father had engaged him. Miss Vernon stood nearby, a satisfied smirk on her face. Glory eased into the crowd and moved along the wall to hide her approach. She came upon the group from behind.
“ . . . childish behavior.” She caught only the end of this particular scathing remark. “You cannot avoid me forever,” the earl continued.
“No, but I can rejoice in every moment not spent in your company, sir. And I believe I’d like to add a few more to the balance.” Keswick bowed. “Good evening.”
His father reached out and seized his arm to stop him. “No. I’ve let the leash play out long enough. It’s time I pulled you back in. This nonsense about refusing to marry ends now. I’ve arranged perfectly satisfactory terms with the Vernon girl’s father. He’s agreed to increase her dowry, included shares in his chemical manufactory, and has offered a bonus to be paid out to you both on the birth of an heir.”
“Stud fees?” Keswick said in disgust. “No, Father. I’m not marrying the chit.”
“You will.”
Keswick had turned to go, but he looked back in exasperation. “Just stop. There is no need for this endless, horrifying dance. Just, please, let me be. I’ve already told you, you don’t have any leverage over me. Not anymore.”
“I do, though.”
Keswick started to walk away.
The earl took a step after him. “Your good name,” he said, more loudly than he perhaps should have. “Stop, Keswick, and listen.” He gave his son a terrifying smile. “I am announcing your betrothal. Tonight. Now. You will smile and agree and dance with the girl when they open the ball.”
Keswick glanced over to where Miss Vernon waited. He shook his head.
“Don’t even consider not cooperating. I will swear to all and sundry that you have known of the negotiations, courted the girl, and agreed to the settlements. If you disavow my words, then I, and the girl, and her father will all name you a liar and a jilt. The world will know you as a man who has broken his vow. A man without honor.”
Keswick, suddenly pale, looked at the man in horror. “You wouldn’t,” he breathed.
“I will. And you will become a pariah. We’ll sue for breach of promise. You will be cut by your friends, turned away from your clubs. Shunned by all of good society. Your little empire?” he said with disdain. “Finished. For who will risk doing business with a man who does not honor his commitments?”
Glory watched all of the color drain from Keswick’s face. Her heart fell—but fury and determination rose like the fiery ascent of the sun inside of her.
The musicians were tuning their instruments. She didn’t have much time. She caught sight of Miss Munroe passing and slipped out to grab her. She whispered frantically in her ear.
Her friend pulled back to stare in amazement. “You don’t mean . . .?”
“Now, please!” Glory urged. “It isvital.”
Miss Munroe glanced over to see Keswick and his father arguing face to face. She raised her brows at Glory and turned to hurry away.
Glory threw her shoulders back. She stepped over to join the group in the corner.
“Good evening, my lords. Has my sister not created a magical atmosphere for us this evening?” She turned to Keswick. “Sir, I hear the musicians preparing themselves. Are you ready for our dance?” Not waiting for his answer, she turned to his father. “If you do not care to dance, Lord Braunton, then may I suggest you try the lobster patties? They are one of Hope’s specialties.”
She took Keswick’s arm, but Miss Vernon had joined them, wearing a ferocious frown on her face. “What is this foolery? You do not dance. We have all heard it said so.”
Glory have her a haughty look. “Then you have heard wrong. I danceonedance in particular. And withonegentleman only.” She cast a dazzling smile up at Keswick. “And he has promised me the opening set.”
She gave them a nod, then tugged on Keswick’s arm. Looking stunned, he led her away. But when she actually stepped out onto the empty dance floor, he stopped abruptly. Frowning, he shook his head.
Raising a brow, she nodded.
“Glory, what are you doing?”
“I’m fighting tyranny, just as you told me I should.” The musicians were settling in. She tugged his arm again, and still looking confounded, he accompanied her to the middle of the floor and stood ready, across from her.
The music began. She curtsied. He bowed. Where in heaven’s name were the other dancers? Why were they the only ones on the dance floor? She risked a glance around—and froze in her tracks.
Everyone stared at her. Every person in the room. Ladies whispered behind their fans. She could see Miss Parscate talking low and fast to the group around her. Gentlemen watched with the same morbid fascination she suspected they must trot out at a bear baiting or a cockfight—in anticipation of blood.
She started to shake. It was her worst nightmare, come to ugly, soul-chilling life.
