The Betting Season (A Regency Season Book) (28 page)

“
Explain to me why you would allow, encourage, or otherwise be compromised by Miss Moira Kirkwood?” Gideon Waite, Viscount Ainsely, asked his former school mate who he happened to run into when he entered White’s.

“
I haven’t the foggiest. I’ve never even met the chit.” Peter Radburn, Marquess Lydell leaned back in his chair. “And can a lady even compromise a gentleman? Isn’t it usually the other way around?”

“
Of course they can,” Gideon chuckled. “It happens all the time. Except, we call it
trapped
. She encourages a stolen kiss in the moonlight, her father appears, and bachelorhood comes to an end.”

“
I suppose so.” Lydell shrugged.

Mr. Jordan Trent pulled out a chair and joined the men at their table. He signaled for the footman and ordered a brandy before he focused on Lydell. “About this bet…”

“
I know nothing about it.” Lydell threw his hands up in defense.

Gideon laughed. Lydell was rather private and the more he tried to go unnoticed, the more society gossiped about him. Of course, it didn’t help that less than a sennight ago all of London learned Lydell needed to find an heiress before the Season was done.

Jordan grinned. “I do.”

Both Gideon and Lydell leaned forward.

“
Fiske and Alston overheard Lady Moira speaking to Lady Hearne before the dowager Lady Hearne took her from Heathfields’ ball last night.”

“
Go on,” Lydell prompted when Jordan paused to take a drink from the glass just set before him.

Jordan glanced at Gideon. “I should have known those two would make an issue of the young woman’s words.”

“
Jordan,” Lydell warned, running out of patience. Gideon had seen these two in similar conversations over the last ten years. The more Lydell wanted to know something, the longer Jordan took in the telling.

“
You were there too?” Gideon asked.

Jordan turned to him. “I was right behind Lady Moira. Her mother had just glared at me. I don’t understand why mothers don’t like me. Have I ever ruined an innocent, spoke cruelly to a young lady? It is very disconcerting to be treated as a pariah when I have done nothing wrong.”

Nothing wrong
. The man was the very definition of
rake
, but what he said was true. Mothers hated him, and young debutants adored him.

“
What did she say?” Lydell ground out.

Jordan returned his attention to the much frustrated Lydell. “Before this Season is out, I will find a gentleman to take me to Scotland, even if I have to compromise him to do so."

“
Good God,” Gideon stammered. “Why the devil would she make such a statement?”

“
I don’t know.” Jordan shrugged.

“
Is it her appearance? Does she think no gentleman will offer for her, so she’d best hie off to Gretna before he changes his mind?” Lydell prompted.

“
No, I don’t think so. In fact, she was rather pretty.”

Lydell sighed with annoyance. “Why was
my
name put in the betting book then?”

“
Her dowry.” Jordan leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Five thousand pounds.

Gideon sat back and whistled. The amount of the chit’s dowry would have every destitute and non-destitute gentleman on her doorstep as soon as the news spread. “Where did you come by this information?”

“
Her brother, Hearne. And he was none too happy after reading the book a short time ago.”

Moira paused at the bottom step to eavesdrop on her mother’s conversation. “I don’t know why Lady Heathfield allowed reprobates like Jordan Trent or that horrid St. Austell in her home. Perhaps having lived in the wilds of Yorkshire all of her life, she doesn’t know any better.”

Both names were familiar. Her mother had pointed out the gentlemen with a strong warning to avoid them completely before Moira found her reputation in shreds. While her mother’s opinion did make the gentlemen all the more interesting, they would never do. Neither was Scottish.

“
I believe the fellows are friends of Lord Heathfield,” her brother offered.

“
Well, the man is married now and should cease associating with such persons.”

“
Trent also happens to be a good friend of
mine
,” her brother continued.

“
The same goes for you. You should have broken ties with that man long ago.”

Moira rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, and calmly walked into the room. “Good afternoon, Alvina and Nyle.”

Her sister-in-law wore a forced grin Moira recognized all too well. It was the same look all of her sisters-in-law adopted when spending above five minutes with her mother.

“
How was your evening, Moira?” Alvina asked. “Did you enjoy your first ball?”

“
The few moments I was allowed to remain were quite pleasant.”

“
You were there an hour,” her mother chastised. “It was long enough for a first appearance.”

Moira poured herself a cup of tea, adding only one sugar since her mother was watching, before settling into a chair beside the one where her brother lounged. She preferred at least three sugars, but her mother scolded if she took more than one.

“
Enough about society,” her mother announced and turned to Nyle. “I don’t understand why you and Alvina do not live here with us. It is the family home. You are the earl. Why rent a small townhouse for the Season?”

Moira could answer that question but bit her tongue.

“
We don’t wish to crowd,” Alvina answered.

“
Crowd? We have six empty bedchambers.”

Windsor Castle wasn’t large enough, if mother was in residence.

“
Besides, I worry that Nyle isn’t taking proper care of you.”

Her brother sat forward. “Mother!”

She leveled her eyes on her son. “Well, she still isn’t increasing, is she?”

Moira choked on her tea and glanced at Alvina, who turned a lovely shade of rose.

“
That is one area of my life I do
not
need your assistance.” Nyle sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“
Ellen is expecting her second child and Ruth her first.”

Poor Alvina looked as if she wished the furniture would swallow her whole after the comparison to Moira’s other sisters-in-law. Their circumstances were what kept them from London this Season as well.

“
Enough, Mother,” Nyle ground out.

Her mother turned to Alvina, and Moira held her cup aloft, too afraid to drink for fear of what her mother might say next. “That is a lovely shade of yellow, dear, but it doesn’t suit you at all. We shall go shopping this afternoon.”

“
I doubt that will assist in begetting an heir,” Moira mumbled into her teacup before taking a sip. Nyle narrowed his eyes in warning.

“
That is very kind of you, but I have already made plans for the day.”

Wilton, their butler, stepped through the door carrying a silver tray stacked with envelopes.

“
Very well then, but we mustn’t put this off.” With that, Moira’s mother stood and accepted the tray from Wilton. “Look at all of these invitations. I knew you would be sought after, Moira.”

Moira resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“
I’ll just take these into the morning room and review them to determine which functions we will attend.” She turned and breezed out of the room. A collective sigh from the remaining occupants followed her disappearance.

“
Your townhome isn’t so small that I couldn’t move in as well, is it?” Moira pitched her voice low on the off chance her mother might overhear her. “You are my guardian after all, Nyle.”

Alvina genuinely smiled. “I would love to have you, you know that.”

“
But,” her brother interrupted, “Mother would visit even more often than she already does, and I don’t wish for my wife to run off to the country without me just to get away.”

“
Why should I suffer alone?” Moira thrust out her lower lip.

“
I’ve suffered more years than you. Simply marry some fellow, and then you can live under his roof.”

Moira grinned. “That is exactly what I plan to do, as soon as I find the right gentleman.”

“
And compromise him, I hear.”

Moira stiffened at the cold, hard tone of her brother’s voice. Rarely did she hear such from him, and it had never been directed toward her. “It was a jest.”
Sort of
. “And said only to Alvina. I don’t know why you should be concerned.” She should have known Alvina would have mentioned her plans to Nyle. Within the first year of their marriage, Moira quickly learned that if anything was said to Alvina, it was being said to Nyle as well.

“
Because my wife isn’t the only one who heard you.”

Moira shrugged. “What does it matter?” She reached forward to pick a cake from the tray.

Nyle leaned in as well. “It matters because your little comment prompted a notation in the betting book at White’s.”

“
I beg your pardon?” Her fingers sank into the moist sponge and her stomach rumbled in anticipation.

“
You were overheard, and one wagered the other. Apparently, dear sister, there are two gentlemen who have nothing better to do than to listen to young ladies’ conversations.”

“
They wagered over me?”

Nyle nodded solemnly. “And the penniless Lord Lydell. The wager involves you compromising the fellow before the Season is done.”

Moria’s heart pounded. What an awful turn of events. “Who is Lord Lydell?” she asked, though she was afraid of the answer. She returned the cake to the plate, no longer hungry.

“
A marquess,” Nyle replied. “So you could do worse for a title, not that I want you compromising anyone.”

A marquess. Honestly, the man’s title meant very little to Moira. “Does he have an estate in Scotland?”

“
Scotland? What does that have to do with anything?” her brother raged.

Alvina reached over and gently touched Nyle’s arm. “It doesn’t matter.”

Maybe Alvina didn’t tell Nyle everything
.

He met Alvina’s eyes and his shoulders relaxed before turning back to Moira. “Lord Lydell does not have an estate in Scotland.”

“
Then I shan’t compromise him,” Moira assured her brother, enjoying the various flushed tones to his skin, and picked up the cake once again.

“
You won’t compromise
anyone
.”

“
Hush, before Mother hears you.” The last thing Moira needed was her mother getting wind of her plans or the scandalous bet in the infamous book. She wouldn’t be allowed out of doors the rest of the Season. “I don’t know the marquess. Why should he be attached to my name?”