Almost an Angel (23 page)

"You are the most beautiful woman here tonight."

Carolly laughed, her heart soaring at this simplest of compliments. "Surely you can think of something a little more original, James. What about my eyes? Do they sparkle like diamonds? Or are they the eyes of a lunatic?" She smiled up at him, giving herself up to the music, letting the feel of his powerful thighs spin her into a universe all their own. Heaven could not feel more perfect, and she was grateful when he let her revel in the moment. But all too soon, he spoke again, his face lined with gentle concern.

"Has it been so very bad for you?"

She blinked, unwilling to be pulled back to reality. Especially not when he drew her deeper into his embrace, sliding his hand in a sensual caress along her waist.

"I could talk to him, if you wish," he offered.

She was confused. "Talk to who? Garrett? My uncle? Or do you mean every man who tries to take advantage of my madness—or perhaps every woman who is spiteful because I am moderately attractive?”

She felt James tighten his hold on her, as if he could protect her from every careless or intentional evil in the world. "All of them. I would speak for you against all of them." His words were a vow, and she treasured him for it. But there were some things even he could not change.

"I can handle Garrett," she said. "As for my uncle, he seems to delight in warning all my potential suitors that I am mad as a hatter. The others seem merely jealous because you bought me the most stunning gown in the room. Truly," she lied, "nothing pains me."

He spun her in a tight circle, letting his cheek rest, however briefly, on her temple before letting her slip back into the required distance between partners. "I meant I will speak with your uncle."

Carolly shrugged. "It will not help. He sent me away as soon as he assumed guardianship."

James frowned, his expression suddenly pensive. "Carolly, what do you know of . . . Caroline's inheritance?”

Carolly thought back, at ease with the question despite the awkward phrasing. "I don't know. My family had a pleasant home, nice clothing, plenty of books and . . ." Her voice trailed away. Caroline's father had been a minister of a poor parish. Not a chance that the collations could have sustained them, especially since her father gave away almost as much as the tithes brought in. There must have been money outside of his benefice. "I . . . I suppose my father must have had some sort of family money. An inheritance of some kind. Do you suppose I did, too?"

"You have no other relatives? Other than the baron?”

Carolly shook her head. "None."

"Then your uncle now controls everything." James's voice was flat, but she understood his implication.

"You think he has deliberately prevented me from marrying, even put me in the asylum, so he can keep my money?"

The dance was ending, and they were forced to stop. As Carolly pulled reluctantly out of his arms, her body still seemed to spin with the dance while her mind reeled from her thoughts.

"James—"

"Hush. I will speak with him."

She touched his arm. "Can I not come with you?”

He shook his head and led her back to her chair. "Not this time. You may confront him later. I promise." Then he touched her cheek, his eyes warm. "Rely on me."

She smiled, feeling unaccountably reassured. "I shall." She watched with a surge of happiness as James bowed over her hand, whispering into her palm.

"We will speak more tonight," he said. Then he was gone, heading toward the card room where her uncle was no doubt gambling.

Carolly sighed, feeling bereft despite the joy that still lingered from their dance. But she barely had time to register her feelings before Garrett appeared by her side and pressed a glass of champagne into her hand.

She turned to him out of politeness, but her thoughts were still on James. "Thank you," she murmured. "But I think I would rather have lemonade."

"Nonsense, Caroline," he said, gently lifting the glass to her lips. "You must drink this." He leaned closer to her. "Then you must follow me outside."

The champagne tasted sweet as he forced it to her lips, the liquid spilling into her mouth as she tried to move away. "Garrett!" she exclaimed as some of the drink spilled down her dress.

But he ignored her protest, lifting her hand and trying to draw her to the open doors which led to the garden. "You must come."

"Garrett—"

Suddenly he was hissing anger as he bent to her ear. "Do you want to make a scene in front of James's guests? Come immediately."

"But—"

"Now!" Then he stood, releasing her hand before striding out the door.

Carolly looked around, noting more than one guest had watched their little altercation, and she smiled wanly in their direction. They already thought the worst of her, she knew, and was suddenly seized by a feeling of recklessness. Why not make the situation complete by following Garrett? He obviously had something important to tell her. No doubt there was some difficulty with the food or guests. Maybe a fight.  Any number of possibilities sprang to mind. The only way to find out was to go.

Or, she thought, her courage growing by the second, she might be able to lure him into confessing his infamous plans.

With an impudent smile aimed at any of the snobbish guests who dared to disapprove, she squared her shoulders and sauntered out into the garden.

***

James did not search long for Caroline's uncle. Baron Handren had previously announced his distaste for dancing, no doubt because of his size. His only other interests were eating and gambling, and given that the midnight buffet had already been consumed, the man would no doubt be in the card room.

He was. In fact, the baron sat at the center of a small group of gentlemen, smoking a cigar, regaling the company with a story of his niece's mad escape from the asylum.

It was enough to make James strip off his glove to challenge the boor. But reason soon asserted itself. A duel would not serve his purposes. He could not keep Carolly and flee the country at the same time. Reining in his temper, he called for a deck of cards and settled into a chair at the baron's table.

"Good evening, my lord," the man bellowed congenially. "Come to share some of your excellent brandy?" He lifted his glass and drained it.

James smiled, pleased to see his guest in such good spirits. He would take great delight in squashing them. "Actually, Baron, I have come to challenge you to a game of piquet. Care for a hand?"

The man frowned. "Piquet? Don't mind if I do. Shall we play a monkey a point?"

James smiled at the high stakes. Normally he disdained such play, but tonight he had an ulterior motive. "Done," he responded firmly. Then he passed the deck to the baron for the cut. Around them, gentlemen began to gather, intrigued by the sight of their host playing cards. James simply smiled at them, encouraging as much of an audience as possible. He began his campaign moments after dealing their hands.

"Caro is quite fond of you, you know. She tells me you have been exceedingly kind since her parents' deaths."

The baron puffed on his cigar, his ruddy face beaming with pleasure. "Such a dear gel. Pity she's such a queer noddy."

James felt his insides clench at the slight to Carolly, but forced himself to remain cool as he played a card. "Yes, well, she seems to think highly of you." He looked up, noting his opponent's shrewd card play for all that he sometimes acted the buffoon. "In fact, she said you have been quite a successful investor, and I must agree. Your small baronetcy cannot bring you much, and yet I hear you spend a large portion of your time in London, always dressed in the best, always generous with your funds."

The baron looked up, his large face registering surprise at James's compliments. "Well, I have the knack, you know." Then he grinned. He drank merrily from his now refilled brandy glass before confiding, "My father rarely had two sous to rub together. But I don't mind telling you I made three times what the old man gave me. Three times."

"Amazing!" James collected the cards for the next deal. The last hand had split evenly, but as he dealt again, he let his gaze wander over the gentlemen who either openly watched their play or lounged nearby. "I understand you manage a number of investment groups. Why, I would not wonder but some of your investors are here today."

"Four of them, actually." The man spoke loudly, preening even as he nodded to two of his clients.

James lifted his cards, making a pretense of studying them as he noted which of his neighbors had been taken in by this braggart. "Well, then I must consider myself the most fortunate of fellows."

Handren frowned as he played a card. "I don't follow you."

"I hesitate to mention it thus." James leaned forward as he spoke, and the baron was quick to follow suit, anxious for whatever news James might confide.

"I am the soul of discretion, I assure you," said the baron, his breath foul in James's face.

"Of course," James responded, drawing back the slightest bit. "I am sure I can count on you." He made sure to speak just loud enough for the nearest gentlemen to overhear. "Caro and I intended to approach you more properly, but I find myself unable to contain the news." He paused for dramatic effect. "She and I are betrothed."

The baron nearly choked on his own shock. "Betrothed? But she is mad!"

James leaned back, noting with pleasure the whispers already spreading the news throughout the room. "Mad?" he said. "Nonsense. She merely has an unorthodox sense of humor. Which was earlier misdiagnosed."

Handren clutched his cards, nearly crumpling them as he spoke. "But she has fits."

James played his card, his movements becoming slower and more casual as he relished the scene. "Fits? None that I have ever noticed."

"Terrible ones. Horrible to behold." The baron was shaking to the point that his flesh seemed to quiver all about him. "I am sure you would not want to be witness to such a thing. And think of your children."

James merely smiled. He
had
been thinking about children. Quite specifically and for a while now. "I have come to realize," he said, allowing a secret smile to curve his lips, "that Caro would make an excellent mother. She has, in fact, done wonders for Margaret. And I believe our children would benefit from a solid imagination and a lively sense of humor."

"Y-you cannot be serious!" sputtered the baron, echoing the murmurs of stunned surprise circling through the room at that statement. James ignored them.

"I recall," he continued to the room at large, "that I myself once pretended to be a bat for an entire month as a child. I caught insects and tried to sleep upside down. Nanny was most horrified," he remembered with a grin. That, of course, had been the best part. "And Thomas," he said, remembering one of his childhood friends, "wanted to be a polar bear. Went about roaring and capturing maids. Freddie wanted to be a horse, running circles in a field with his favorite colt. I believe he even slept in the barn that entire year." Then he raised his voice, making sure his words carried throughout the room. "I have never seen any signs of madness in Caroline," he said pointedly. "In fact, I would take it as a personal insult were anyone to suggest she was anything but the picture of health and sanity."

The baron blinked, his large face sallow. "But she thinks she is an angel. Your cousin Garrett said so himself."

James grinned. "And so she is. The angel of my heart."

"But—"

James collected his last tricks, noting his opponent's game had deteriorated most dramatically. "In any event, the banns shall be posted on Sunday."

Handren nearly bolted out of his seat. "What?"

James perused his cards. "Needless to say, she shall never see the inside of Boorstin again."

His opponent was no longer listening, was not even playing his cards. Apparently, the baron's mind was focused elsewhere. Perhaps he wondered where he might find the funds for Caro's dowry in three weeks' time.

"Baron? Are you quite well?"

The man came back to reality with a sick gasp. "What?"

"As I was saying, because of your financial skills, I believe myself the most fortunate of fellows to be joining your family." The man could only gape as James continued, taking great joy in pounding the last nail in the lout's coffin. "Caroline's dowry has no doubt tripled under your excellent management."

Handren never picked up his cards for the next hand. Instead, he poured himself some more brandy, his hand visibly shaking. "Well, as to her dowry," he muttered, "I am afraid I, um, did not, in fact, invest her funds . . ." His voice trailed away, and James happily took up the slack.

"Ah, kept it in a separate account? How prudent of you."

The man was sweating now, his shirt points wilting almost before their eyes. "Ah, well, as to that . . ." he said.

"No matter." James waited a moment. "I shall be quite content with her original dowry."

The baron straightened in his seat, seemingly intent on his cards as he latched on to James's idea. "Original dowry? Oh, but that was quite small. Almost nothing, you understand."

"Truly? How odd." Handren misplayed, and James picked up the next five tricks. "In fact, I had quite a different impression." He played his next card with an indifferent shrug. "No matter. I am sure Mr. Oltheten will have an exact estimation of her inheritance."

Handren's fingers were almost white as they gripped his last card. "Mr. Oltheten?"

"Why, yes. He is the solicitor who handled Caro's parents' estate, is he not?" James assumed it was the same man who'd responded to his previous inquiries.

The baron dropped his card and gulped the last of his brandy. "Oltheten. Yes, yes, of course."

"Excellent." James actually allowed himself to grin as he delivered the killing blow. "I have already posted a message to my solicitor in London. I am sure he will contact Mr. Oltheten immediately."

"Immediately?" Handren echoed weakly.

"I am sure of it." He stared hard into the baron's pig-like eyes, knowing now his fears were correct: Caroline's uncle had spent her dowry. He had no doubt locked her in Boorstin just to keep control of her money. But James would get every penny of her inheritance back if he had to ruin the fat fool to do it. Then he would gift her with it on their wedding day.