Heartless (47 page)

Adam was cynical, unforgiving. This coldly calculating nature was something Levi could not entirely comprehend, his own nature being wholly bent toward pleasurable pursuits.

Of course, the Earl of Greville had his own set of ne’er-do-well associates. His acquaintances numbered a few odd rattles, some of whom were whispered about in every corner of every ballroom in every home of the upper ten thousand.

“Please, Bri?” Levi asked, turning suddenly.

“Oh, very well!” she conceded against her better judgment. “But I warn you, Vi, this is the last time. If you find yourself in this kind of trouble again, you will just have to marry an heiress.”

Levi’s eyes widened in genuine horror. She might as well suggest that he go around to Tattersalls auction and pay the most he could for the lamest nag available. She might as well suggest that he join the dandy set, sporting patricides and elaborate cravats. She might as well suggest he go to Brooks’s merely to watch the play instead of betting himself—which, of course, was the whole reason he was having his current problems.

“Marry an heiress?” he said, all the horror he felt reflected in his tone. “Maybe I should just slap a glove across Hart’s face.”

“Don’t be silly, Vi. Lord Hart-less would kill you. A wife would never behave so irrationally.”

She failed to understand what really bothered him about marrying an heiress. There was a dearth of passable females doing the Season and Levi was very particular when it came to bedding a woman.

“Here!”

He found a bankdraft for fifteen thousand pounds shoved into his hands. He looked up, his dark brown eyes wide with surprise. “I only asked for ten.”

Bri’s full lips tightened into a grim line. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, my lord. Consider it an early birthday present. Possibly your last.”

Since he’d just received five thousand pounds from her to cover his debts a few months past, he knew she was emphasizing that he was forming a habit. She indicated with a stern expression that it would be in his best interests to nip it in the bud.

He hated it when Bri started ‘my lording’ him. He knew she was angry when she included his second name in her diatribes, but when she started ‘my lording’ him, he knew she was about to explode. And lately she had been especially tetchy. He blamed impending motherhood for that.

With a hurried thank you, he shoved the draft in his pocket just as Adam walked into the room.

“Hello, Adam,” Levi said with the most innocent of expressions.

Adam, of course, cynical creature that he was, was instantly suspicious. Levi could tell. Club gossip would have informed the baronet of his relative’s pending insolvency. Adam would realize Levi’s need for money. The logical conclusion from there was Bri.

Instead of accusing his cousin-by-marriage or his wife of anything, Adam just smiled and shook Levi’s hand. Pulling the younger man closer, Adam whispered, “Last time.”

The steely note of warning was unmistakable. Levi swallowed hard and nodded. Adam released him and turned glowing eyes on his wife, gesturing that she be seated for the latest
on dit
concerning Lady Fitzjohn’s spaniel and an unfortunate young man to whom the dog took particular exception.

Levi decided not to linger. He wanted to get the duns off his back as soon as possible.

“Oh, Levi,” said Adam, smiling. Levi paused in his flight and turned around slowly, one brow raised in silent inquiry. “I have recently made the acquaintance of a personable young woman of considerable fortune on the lookout for a handsome husband. I suggest you think very carefully of courting her favor.”

*****

Before he knew it, and only three weeks after Bri’s—and Adam’s—warning, the Earl of Greville found himself heavily in debt again.

Agitated and worried beyond belief, Levi took himself off to visit the one person who never seemed to mind that he was usually in dun territory, his mistress.

Raven received him as usual, her unbound midnight hair swirling about her as she turned to greet him. Levi barely saw her, his thoughts wholly occupied with his monetary troubles.

“Levi!” She stretched out her hands in greeting, accepting Levi’s chaste kiss on her fingers.

He gave her a half-hearted smile, dropping down into a chair. Under normal circumstances, he’d never have behaved in so rude a manner. A gentleman would never sit while a lady still stood. Lady or not, Raven deserved more respect.

Raven sat, motioning for the maid to fetch tea. She waited.

When the minutes stretched, she cleared her throat. “What has caused your brown study, my lord? Perhaps speaking of it will help.”

Levi sighed. His mistress was more than just a mistress. She was a friend, a confidante. He supposed it was only natural that he confess to her how incredibly stupid he’d been.

“I am in dun territory again.”

She wasn’t surprised. Her tone was mildly concerned. “How bad is it this time? Can you come about?”

“I doubt very much that I can. I have pondered all my options. I see no clear course of action.”

“What of Bri?”

Raven, in an unprecedented twist, enjoyed a close friendship with Levi’s cousin Bri. They particularly enjoyed scandalizing Society by appearing together in public, often for the daily promenade through Hyde Park.

What so titillated the masses was the fact that Raven was once under the protection of Bri’s husband, Adam.

The maid returned with tea, leaving mere moments later. Raven served, adding a generous dash of good Irish whiskey to Levi’s cup. He took it from her, his fingers closing tightly around the delicate china.

“I cannot importune her again, Rae. Adam has threatened my life should I dare to ask. I begin to think Adam’s suggestion as the only answer.”

“What did Adam suggest?”

Levi focused on her, saw the way her dark eyes were trained on his, awaiting his response.

“Marriage,” he said shortly.

Levi was surprised by the range of expressions that crossed the beautiful woman’s face. Shock, betrayal, a little anger and ultimately, resignation. She said nothing, however, and Levi couldn’t help but wonder why.

“An heiress, to be precise,” he added.

“Of course,” she murmured. “How soon must this be accomplished?”

He shrugged. “Soon. I plan to attend all the balls and parties I can. Even Almack’s.” He couldn’t repress the shudder that racked his large frame. “Lord, how I loathe the marriage mart.”

Raven stood, moving close. She held out her hand. “You appear to need a distraction, my love.”

Levi smiled, taking her hand and drawing her down into his arms. “You know me so well. If life was just, we could marry, my exotic beauty.”

Chapter Two

Lord Greville’s search for a bride had begun in earnest by the time Miss Aurora Glendenning arrived in Town for the Season. She was seen entering her establishment in Mayfair with an odd procession of servants.

Along with what was obviously a ladies’ maid, there was an old man with graying hair and a rigid bearing that one would assume was the butler. Just after him was an equally aged footman and cook. Then there was a youngish woman in plain servants’ garb, leading a small girl by the hand. The little girl was of angelic appearance with bright blond curls, sparkling bluish gray eyes, and a cherubic face.

Miss Glendenning herself was petite and blond with strange turquoise colored eyes and a neat figure. Everyone said the fashion for blonds was exploded, but no one seemed to have informed Miss Glendenning of that fact. She was beautiful.

No one knew the young woman; everyone wondered about her. An older woman had arrived with her. No one assumed she was Miss Glendenning’s mother since the woman did not resemble her in the least. She was obviously an employee of some kind, a companion, perhaps. Her devotion to her young mistress was plain to even the most casual observer.

The only person who actually knew Aurora was Verena, Lady Connor Northwicke. She had met her often. The girl came from a family rich as Croesus who had lived on the estate next to her father, the Earl of Carstairs. The two girls were of an age and had been drawn together by strange circumstances that neither were privy to. It was just a feeling they had had about each other.

Apparently, Aurora had fallen on somewhat hard times after the death of her parents.

Verena had heard of her parents’ deaths. It was close enough to a year ago that no one would care if she came out of mourning a few weeks early to enjoy the Season. Verena did wonder, however, why Aurora would come to Town with her lack of funds. Was she looking for a husband?

Connor and Verena Northwicke—technically the Marquess and Marchioness of Beverley although they did not make use of the Duke of Denbigh’s second title—had decided to “do” the Season that year. Of course, their children, one-year-old twins Rhys and Juliana and nearly three-month-old Damien, came with them. Verena never left her children. She preferred to be their mother instead of following the tradition of letting them be raised by nurses and nannies, then governesses and tutors before packing the boys off to school and university and sending the girls to a finishing school before selling them to the highest bidders on the marriage mart.

Verena would have stopped in to welcome her only childhood friend had baby Damien not developed a cough. Nearly all her days—and nights—were spent with him in the nursery much to her husband’s chagrin—and sexual frustration.

*****

Lord Connor took himself off to his clubs more often than usual. Several times he happened to see Levi playing cards with his cronies and more often with that snake Percival Winters.

“Levi, fancy meeting you here,” Connor commented ironically one evening after Verena had sequestered herself in the nursery. The young lord settled himself morosely into the chair just vacated by the earl’s friend, Lord Delwyn Deverell, younger son of the Duke of Traverhurst. Lord Delwyn apparently had somewhere else he needed to be. And quickly, too, if his nervous glance and swift pace were any indication.

Connor smirked and turned a feral glare on Winters who actually had the gall to remain in the same room with him. “Are you not wanted somewhere, Percy?” he drawled.

Levi watched all of this with wide eyes. He appeared surprised, possibly scared to the casual observer. Upon closer inspection, one might notice a suspicious brightness in the earl’s eyes as Levi was in fact trying very hard not to laugh.

He actually didn’t like Winters. He only played with the man since he was always available. It was satisfying to see him taken down a peg. He was too toplofty for his own good. The man didn’t even possess a title!

Winters growled something too low for Levi to hear but Northwicke grinned. “I would love to call you out, Winters. What say you and I step over to Jackson’s and go a round or two? I would prefer a more worthy opponent, but you’ll do.”

Percival Winters rose with as much dignity as he could muster under such an insult and stomped out of Brooks’s Club, barely remembering to pause for his hat and stick. Levi let one snicker escape.

Northwicke’s glare suddenly turned on him and Levi had to force himself not to shrink back into his seat. Eden Farnsworth tossed a nervous glance between the two men and hastily took his leave. Levi and Northwicke were left alone at the table.

“Care for a drink?” Levi offered. His brow furrowed slightly. “Look like you could use one.”

Northwicke wordlessly accepted the glass of burgundy that Levi pushed across the table. He stared hard at the earl until Levi squirmed involuntarily. Satisfied, Northwicke quaffed the wine in his glass and smiled congenially at his companion.