How to Entice an Enchantress (3 page)

“Oh, I know quite well. She sees me as an older, decrepit neighbor who harshly pressed her father for the repayment of a loan, forcing her sister to sell herself in marriage.”

“You sound very certain about that.”

“I am; she told me so in those exact words.”

Oh dear. This is going to be much more difficult than I imagined.
Margaret sighed. “That’s not good news.” She hadn’t expected Dahlia to harbor a grudge once her sister was happily wed. “Surely you’ve seen some
softening in her demeanor since her sister’s wedding?”

“You don’t know Dahlia if you think she will soften her feelings toward anyone she believes has insulted her family. She’s very protective of them. Ridiculously so.”

“Surely she knows that Sir Balfour was at fault for asking for such a loan to begin with?”

Charlotte nodded. “
And
for pretending he wanted the funds for his daughters, as he told you when he first borrowed the sum?”

“Which was a lie,” Margaret continued. “For he spent it on expanding his greenhouses and buying more roses.”

“It doesn’t matter what he did with the funds, or if he lied,” Kirk said firmly. “Dahlia’s protective of her family, right or wrong. Now she won’t speak to me, won’t answer my letters, won’t even look in my direction when we meet. It’s as if I’m dead to her.”

Charlotte bit her lip and looked at Margaret. “Oh dear.”

Margaret thought the same thing, but she wasn’t about to give up before she’d even begun. She absently patted the pug closest to her foot, a thought striking her as she straightened. “Lord Kirk, perhaps I can rectify whatever ill Miss Dahlia thinks by simply telling her the truth—that you pressed for the loan at my request.”

“You can’t tell her a damn thing.”

“And why not?”

“Because then she’d want to know why I agreed in the first place—and you cannot tell her it was because I wished your help in securing her affections. If her guard is high now, imagine what it would be if she knew that?”

He was right, blast it all.

He added, “We are stuck, your grace. We cannot admit the truth.”

Margaret tried not to let her dismay show. “It’s a minor problem. I shall think of something to smooth this over, never fear. Meanwhile, there are other issues to be addressed.”

“What other issues?” Kirk rubbed his knee and Margaret noticed how long and beautiful his hands were, like those of an artist or a violinist.

“If you wish to attend my house party, then you need to brush up on your society manners.”

“On my— No. That’s not necessary.”

“Oh yes. I promised you a way to win Miss Balfour, and that is part of it; you will learn to be a gentleman.”

His jaw firmed. “You are making this unnecessarily complicated. What I want is simple: marriage to Miss Dahlia Balfour.”

“And to get that, you’ll have to relearn all that you’ve forgotten in the way of manners.”

His mouth was white with fury. “I cannot countenance this.”

“You’ll have to.”

“May I remind you that I was married once before? Elspeth never noticed my manners.”

“Elspeth was not Dahlia Balfour, whom you’ve already said is a romantic.”

Charlotte leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Pardon me, but you’re a widower?”

“My wife died on our return from India seven years ago,” he said shortly.

Charlotte clicked her tongue in sympathy. “Did she die from a spider bite? There are over twenty types of spiders in India.”

Margaret looked at Charlotte. “How would you know about spiders in India?”

“There was an article about that very thing in
The Morning Post
last week.”

“There was no spider.” Kirk’s voice crackled with impatience. “My wife and I were sailing back from India when a fire broke out on the ship. We didn’t realize it, but in addition to our luggage, the ship was carrying kegs of gunpowder.”

“How dangerous.”

“And illegal. I found out later that the captain had hidden the kegs on board to make additional money and didn’t wish to pay the port tax. Thus they were not declared on his manifest, damn his greedy black heart.”

Margaret’s heart tightened at the bleakness in Kirk’s voice. “It should never have happened.”

“It is history,” he said shortly. And yet he looked furious, as if he’d like to kick history right in the shin. “I’m fine with my life now.”

“You mean you were until you met Miss Balfour,” Margaret said.

He started to disagree, but after meeting her gaze for a long moment, he added, “It’s odd, I’ll admit it. I’d met her many times before, you know. She’s my neighbor and we must have ridden past one another a hundred times without really paying each other the slightest heed. But this time—” He shook his head, a faint hint of wonder in his dark eyes.

Charlotte clasped her hands before her. “Yes?” she encouraged. “This time?”

“The Balfours have been my neighbors since before I wed at the age of eighteen, but I’d never had much contact with them. The girls were much younger than I, and once I married, I rarely saw them. And after the accident—” He shrugged.

“You didn’t see anyone after that,” Margaret guessed.

“Not intentionally. One day my butler was ill, so I took the carriage to pick up some books I’d ordered. As I was coming out of the postal office, I ran into Dahlia. Literally. I was so piled with parcels that I couldn’t see over them, and . . . well. There she was.”

Margaret and Charlotte exchanged glances. There was a deepening to his lordship’s voice that couldn’t be denied.

He rubbed his knee absently. “I’d seen her before, of course, but we’d never done more than nod at one another. But when she saw the books in my hands, her eyes lit up like—” He lifted his hands. “I can’t describe it.”

“That sounds promising.”

“It sounds
romantic
,” Charlotte said.

“It was indeed promising, but it was
not
romantic. All that moment did was show me that here was a person—a woman—who shared my passion for reading. I’d never had that, you know. Elspeth never read.” He shrugged. “Anyway, we started talking about books we liked, and which authors we enjoyed. Odd as it sounds, we stood there in the street for two hours, quoting poetry and discussing stories we’d both read.” He turned a bemused look to Margaret. “It was as if, in opening a book together, we discovered ourselves between the pages.”

Margaret nodded.
Goodness, he is head over heels. And yet he doesn’t realize it.

“Oh my,” Charlotte said in a breathless voice. “That sounds just like one of my novels.”

Kirk frowned. “Pray don’t make this into something it’s not. Dahlia and I have a lot in common. We both like to read, we love poetry, and we enjoy the same music, as well. I invited her to borrow whatever books she might wish from my library. I have an extensive collection since books were my only companions for those empty years.”

“So you share a few common interests. That’s a beginning, I suppose,” Margaret said cautiously. When Charlotte sent her a surprised look, Margaret flashed her a warning look.

Kirk didn’t seem to notice. “Dahlia was in raptures when she saw my library and she couldn’t stay away. She began to visit weekly and we’d talk about whatever
book she’d read. Once, while she was there, I convinced her to play the pianoforte I’d brought from France as a wedding present for Elspeth. Dahlia’s amazingly talented.”

“She sounds perfect.”

“She’ll do. She is pleasant to look upon, loves books, dislikes random conversation, and can sit for hours not uttering a word whilst reading.” He nodded, almost to himself. “She will make a suitable bride.”

“Suitable?” Charlotte almost stuttered over the word. “Is that all you can say?”

Kirk boldly met her gaze, though his face was slightly flushed. “It’s enough.”

There was a stubborn note to his voice that said far more than he was able or willing.

Before Charlotte could answer, Margaret said, “I see.” She rather thought she did, too.

He raised a brow. “So you’ll assist me as you’d promised when I agreed to press Lord Balfour for that cursed loan?”

“Of course, but I must be plain. While I will do what I can to assist you in making a case for Miss Dahlia, you must make an effort, as well.”

“An effort? To do what?”

“Whatever I say.” She tapped her chin with a finger, her gaze never wavering. “Fortunately, you have an amazing amount of potential.”

Charlotte tilted her head to one side, regarding Kirk from head to toe. “
Unrealized
potential.”

Margaret followed Charlotte’s expert gaze. While
Kirk didn’t adhere to fashion in any way—his brown coat and trousers were at least a decade old in style—he was very neatly dressed, his neckcloth knotted about his throat, the ends tucked into his brown waistcoat, his boots firmly placed upon the ground. There was a solidness about him that a woman could appreciate.
An older woman, yes—but perhaps not a younger one. No, if he wishes to woo Dahlia Balfour, he will have to gain some polish.
“We must get him a tailor,” she told Charlotte.

“New clothes, definitely,” Charlotte murmured. “And some proper boots.”

“And someone to teach him to tie a neckcloth.”

“Oh yes.” Charlotte reached down and picked up a pug, then plopped him in her lap, though her gaze never left Lord Kirk. “Can you dance?”

“With this?” He gestured toward his knee. “No, damn it.”

Charlotte tsked. “Such language.”

“He’ll have to work on that, too,” Margaret said thoughtfully, her mind racing as she made a mental list. “And his address, for he’s rude as a—”

“That’s enough.” Kirk grasped his cane and struggled to his feet, his face set. “I did not come here to be insulted.”

“No, you came to be transformed into a man worthy of a beautiful woman—one you believe is clearly out of your reach.” Margaret waited until her words had sunk in. “She’s lovely.”

“Yes.”

“And lively, as well, if she’s anything like her sisters.”

“Very much so.”

“And intelligent—”

“She’s everything, damn it!”

“Then you will have to be everything to her.”

His fingers were white where they gripped the handle of his cane. “What the hell was I thinking, to come here? I should have admitted the truth, that she’s not for me, and just be done with it. But oh no. I
hoped.
” He laughed bitterly, and then walked toward the door. “I’m a fool.”

Charlotte exchanged a surprised glance with Margaret.

“Lord Kirk,” Margaret called. “Please. Just one question, and then you may go.” When he didn’t pause, she added, “For your mother’s sake.”

He stiffened, but stopped. After a moment, he turned back to face them. “Yes?”

“I know this may seem rude, but how old are you?”

“What’s that—” At her raised brows, he grimaced. “I turned twenty-eight a week ago.”

“That’s all?” Charlotte exclaimed. “I would have thought—” She caught his dark gaze and flushed. “I mean, twenty-eight is a
lovely
age.”

“No, it’s not a lovely age.” Margaret stood and walked toward him. “It’s the age of a man who should be settled and married.”

His eyes blazed with anger. “I’m finished with this conversation. I’m sorry I wasted your time.” His scowl grew blacker with each word, the scar menacing. He started to turn back to the door.

“Since you don’t wish to win Miss Balfour’s regard, then you won’t mind if I turn her attention elsewhere.”

He froze in place as if suddenly nailed there. When he slowly turned, his face was a mask of frozen fury. “
You
will turn her attention elsewhere?”

He really had the most amazingly beautiful eyes, sherry brown and thickly fringed. Looking at them made her think of his mother, and the memory stiffened Margaret’s resolve. “We’ll need two months of your time.”

“Two months? For what?”

“To teach you the basics of seduction, of course. Or courtship, if you prefer to call it that.”

“It will also take that long to order your new wardrobe,” Charlotte added. “That coat—” She wrinkled her nose.

Kirk looked down at his coat. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s out of fashion and ill fits you,” Charlotte answered without pause. “Worsted is a horrid material for a coat, and your cravat is a mere knot, rather than a properly tied arrangement. But even more distressing than your clothing are your manners.” Charlotte smiled kindly. “They could use a little polish. Actually, they could use a lot.”

“I’m surprised you allowed me in your presence.”

“You’re a friend of her grace’s. I had no choice,” Lady Charlotte pointed out fairly.

Lord Kirk’s lips thinned. “Is there anything else I must change?”

Margaret looked him over. “Your hair.”

He looked exasperated. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“It’s far too long for current fashion. It’s a bit aging.”

“I am my age, madam. I cannot change that.”

“You look thirty and seven, perhaps even forty.”

He started to turn back to the door and Margaret called out, “Leave if you wish, but know this: Miss Balfour has already accepted an invitation to my Christmas Ball. She will attend my house party for the three weeks beforehand, and she will not leave unattached.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I do. I shall see to it that she receives at least one offer for her hand in marriage, if not more.”

“You would work against me?”

“While I genuinely wish you to succeed in your endeavors, Miss Dahlia is also one of my godchildren, and I wish to see her happily and well settled. She knows that I invited her to my house party for the express purpose of assisting her in making a fortuitous match.”

He fixed an incredulous gaze on Margaret. “She specifically stated that was the reason she’s coming here? To make a match?”

“Lord Kirk, she’s twenty years of age; if she waits much longer, she’ll be upon the shelf. When I invited her and assured her that she would receive at least one palatable offer, I thought you were serious about wishing to win her. Believing in your steadfastness, I committed
myself to that end. So you can see that I cannot rescind my offer merely because you are getting cold feet and refuse to make an effort to win her attention, much less her hand in marriage.”