Daring Deception Part 1

Daring Deception.

Hiatt, Brenda.

Frederica was so angry. How dare he betroth himself to her an advertise openly for a mistress!

"It is the outside of enough that you've hired a ... a fancy woman in the first place, lord. But that you would actually prefer children to result from such a union.

She headed for the library door.

"I believe I've heard quite enough, Lord Sea brooke," said scathingly over her shoulder.

With two long 'strides, Lord Sea brooke himself between her and the door.

"Miss Cherrystone, I'm not sure what have in your bonnet, but I beg you to sit and hear me out. I'll not have you scandal about the streets of London have been at such pains to keep this quiet."

CHAPTER ONE.

GAVIN ALEXANDER, lately 6th Earl of Sea brooke, observed the growing dismay on the face of the young man before him and sighed. He should have known his own incredible luck over the past few hours was too good to be true, and so it apparently was. The lad couldn't pay up.

"I'll accept your vowels, of course, Chesterton," Lord Sea brooke said brusquely. Frustrated as he was, it was not in him to humiliate the boy publicly.

"You may redeem them later in the week."

Sir Thomas chewed his lower lip, glancing quickly about at the interested spectators who had gathered to watch the final stages of the evening's deepest game, before meeting his opponent's eye.

"Might I have a word with you privately, sir?" he asked in a shaky undertone.

Sea brooke inclined his head, masking fierce disappointment with the lightly amused nonchalance that came so easily now after years of practice.

"You've all had your entertainment,"

he said to their audience.

"Our terms of payment can be of no interest to you whatever." Though there was nothing overtly threatening in either words or tone, the crowd of gentlemen melted away at once.

"I--I seem to have a problem," stammered the young baronet as soon as they were alone. He raked agitated fingers through his thick shock of fair hair as he stared despondently down at the table, unable to meet the other man's eyes. "You don't have the means to pay your gaming debts. Yes, I had gathered that." Sea brooke's voice was cold now. He had needed those winnings so desperately!

"You realize that I could have you barred from White's for playing under false pretences."

Sir Thomas's head came up at once.

"It was no such thing!" he declared hotly.

"The Chesterton fortune is every bit as extensive as I said. I just don't exactly... have access to it at the moment. It is tied up in trust, you see." A flame of renewed hope sprang up in Gavin's breast.

"But the money is yours?"

"Yes, yes, of course! Well, mine and my sister's, anyway. The terms of m'

father's will were rather ... irregular." Lord Sea brooke thought he detected a certain bitterness in the lad's voice.

"My share will more than cover your twelve thousand pounds, but my allowance won't make a dent in it. In fact, my pockets are practically to let till next quarter." The despair was back in his eyes, and Sea brooke felt his brief hope wither.

His circ.u.mstances were becoming increasingly desperate.

Despite his lack of a t.i.tle, Major Gavin Alexander had cut quite a dash in fashionable London, especially with the ladies. The slight limp his war injury had left him seemed to make him an even more romantic figure in their eyes. His leisure hours had been spent in amus.e.m.e.nts reputable and disreputable, and his near-notoriety gained him entry into places few n.o.blemen frequented.

This latter had made him particularly useful to the wartime government, though he could no longer serve in combat.

Never precisely wealthy, he had managed to live well enough on what the War Office paid him--until recently.

When the news reached him that his Uncle Edmund, a virtual stranger due to a longstanding feud between the 5th earl and Gavin's late father, had succ.u.mbed to a fever, the new Lord Sea brooke had been both stunned and elated. Giving notice at Whitehall, he had at once travelled north to his new holdings, where another shock awaited him: instead of the tidy fortune he had been led to expect, his uncle had left him a mountain of debt.

Gavin sold off the un entailed lands to pay the mortgages, and depleted his own savings, but still there were bills unpaid.

Never one to rapine, he had eventually returned to Town and lived much as he ever had.

Turning out the tenants to take up residence in Sea brooke House, he managed to keep up a pretence of wealth so as not to be denied admittance to the better clubs, where his chief hope of salvation lay. He did have one other: as Lord Sea brooke, he found himself in even greater demand by the Town's hostesses--and their daughters.

After the skirmishes of the spring, Napoleon had finally, irrevocably, been defeated, effectively eliminating C_ravin's position with the War Office.

Already his credit was beginning to run out; soon the mamas of certain heiresses would get wind Of it and warn their daughters away from him. And now he found himself saddled with a new responsibility, one that honour would not allow him to shirk and that made the recoupment of his finances absolutely essential.

When the young buck before him had come into White's looking for a game, boasting of his broad estates and vast fortune, Sea brooke was not the only one who saw him as a wonderfully plump pigeon, ripe to be plucked. While the others had been mainly amused by the young man's airs, however, Sea brooke had perceived in him the miracle he so desperately needed. Now it appeared that he had given thanks prematurely.

"And when, precisely, will you have control of your portion of the trust?"

he asked with more resignation than hope.

"Not till I turn five and twenty," replied Sir Thomas dolefully, poking at the cards before him with one forefinger.

"Nearly four years. Frederica gets hers when she marries, but at the rate she's going that may well be even longer. Surely there must be some way to break this d.a.m.ned trust. A debt of honour, after all..."

"Your sister is unmarried?"

asked Lord Sea brooke casually, seized by a sudden inspiration born of dire necessity.

"Tell me about her."

Miss FRED~ RICA CHF. gI'EI{rON Was having an extremely trying day. She had been wakened before dawn by the shrieking of a housemaid, only to discover that the silly girl's hysterics were precipitated by nothing more than the sight of one of Frederica's pet mice. The maid was new, and had not yet grown accustomed to her mistress's unusual menagerie.

On coming downstairs, Frederica had found that someone had neglected to latch the scullery door, and one of the Angora goats had come into the kitchen.

Cook was furious and threatening to give notice, and by the time Frederica had soothed him, her peac.o.c.k, Fanfare, was screaming loudly for his breakfast. An hour later, the steward appeared to inform her that the late summer rains had ruined the barley crop. Mrs. Gresham, the aging housekeeper, was in a sour mood after being wakened by the peac.o.c.k and aroused Cook's are in turn by suggesting the porridge was lumpy. Frederica managed to smooth things over between the habitual combatants, pacifying Mrs.

Gresham with one of Cook's puff pastries in place of the reviled porridge.

Then the accounts had to be gone overand Frederica found that she had made an error last month that necessitated re figuring two complete columns.

After mining three pen nibs, hunting down the housekeeper's missing keys and separating two young kitchen maids who were pelting each other with flour, Frederica finally retreated to the little back parlour with a tea tray, determined to have an hour to herself to recover her spirits and energy. She had taken only one sip, however, when yet another interruption occurred.

"Good afternoon, Freddie." A familiar figure appeared without warning in the doorway.

Though the young man standing there possessed blond hair, while Frederica's curls were the colour of brightly polished copper, there was a sire11 ilarity between the two that marked them at once as brother and sister.