Page 23 of Moaning Under the Mistletoe
“The Earldom needs a bride, and your daughter was on my shortlist before this conversation. Provided she’ll have me, then I will do my best to raise her child as my own.”
“Perhaps it will be a daughter?”
He’d rather a boy, then he’d have a ready heir without needing to upset his relationship with Oscar. Goddamn it. He needed to fix that too, and now he’d made it harder. He really ought to stop trying to rescue people, or to interact with them at all when his emotions were running high.
“I will take my leave now.”
“Bennington?”
“Yes.”
“Do come for morning tea tomorrow morning.”
He nodded. Morning tea would be a good time to garner Miss Moreton’s consent as she surely wouldn’t be overly pleased at men making these decisions on her behalf, even if that was the expected way of things. “Until tomorrow.” He bolted from White’s, his feet finally deciding to cooperate, before any other disaster could befell him and went home. The weather was dreadful, a sleety rain with the streets turned to a brown mush and a chill wind that whipped through his great coat.
Crowther hovered at the front door. “My lord. The house is in an uproar.”
Was everyone determined to be dramatic today? Him included. “Oh?”
“Lady Jane has run off with her friend, a Miss Mary Moreton.”
Now that couldn’t be a coincidence. He breathed out slowly. “Did they give any indication as to where?”
“Lady Jane left a note saying they’d gone to book club together. But she took a carpet bag and Miss Moreton had one too, so everyone is concerned that they’ve run off properly.”
Ambrose nearly laughed. It couldn’t be, could it? “Give me an hour.” He walked outside, back into the dreadful weather, where he hailed a hackney cab.
The instant that he walked inside The King’s Book Club, Heider shook his head. “My lord, Mr Mardin is not available.” So either Oscar had told Heider about his ... miscommunication, or he was busy with people in his office.
“I assume he has two visitors.” He didn’t bother to make his statement into a question.
“I can’t confirm that.”
“Then he does. And one of them is my sister, Lady Jane Bennington.”
“I am unsure of the identity of both ladies, my lord.”
He didn’t smile at the information, although it confirmed his hunch. “I will go and see my sister now.” He didn’t bother waiting but marched up the stairs towards Oscar’s office. He’d only been here once before, and that’d been a much better experience than this was likely to be. He wanted to be with Oscar like that again. Goddamn it. The weight of today’s events was becoming a stinking sack to carry around. He didn’t want to break the news to Oscar that he really was getting married, just not to the Lady in the betting book. No one had bet on that possibility. He leaned his palm against Oscar’s office door and breathed slowly. It didn’t help. His pulse was leaping like a foal in spring excited by a gust of wind. A few more breaths almost worked. It was time to face the music. He pushed the door open and as expected, Oscar sat behind his desk while his sister Jane sat on the green chaise longue with one arm resting around the shoulders of another woman who he recognised as Miss Moreton.
“Go away, I’m busy.”
“Oscar.”
“It’s Mr Mardin to you.” Oscar was properly mad at the idea that Ambrose might be getting married.
“Mr Mardin, I’ve come to talk to my sister, Lady Jane Bennington.” His sister raised her head at that.
“Ambrose. How did you find me?”
“You left a note saying you’d gone to book club. I’m not sure how you knew about this place, but I guessed you might be here.”
Jane flushed. “Mary and I have always wanted to come here.”
“And you are most welcome.” Oscar turned away from him, smiling at his sister. Seeing him smile at Jane and not at him stabbed him in the heart, twisting around and smashing his heart into a raw mush.
“I have some pertinent news.”
“No one wants to hear that you won your bet at White’s.” Oscar’s bitter tone surprised him. It took him a little while to remember that he’d bet on himself. Goddamn it, he’d have to pay that out quickly before he looked like he wasn’t paying his gaming debts, which gave some credence to Lord Bricknell's accusation of poverty. Huh. This quick marriage wasn’t going to help that either. This was becoming too complicated and fraught with too many political outcomes that he didn’t have the stomach to deal with, but he’d have to because he was the Earl and it was expected of him.
