Page 7 of Tempting a Lonely Lord (The Rakes of Mayhem #6)

Stephen stormed from the drawing room, his emotions swirling like a tempest. He glanced back at the scene behind him.

Bella laughed at something cute the little boy had said.

Grandmother Harrington was laughing and fawning over both guests.

Even his mother—who was normally reserved—was animated and enjoying a cheery conversation with Viscount Dudley and the young boy.

The stark contrast of their merriment to his own inner darkness only deepened the churning in his gut.

It felt like they were living in two different worlds—he lived in one plagued by burdens only he understood.

He had squandered another small fortune on the baron, a man known for his ability to read a room and predict his opponents’ weaknesses, a man of extreme wealth and a mysterious past. Word in London was that the baron’s fortune rivaled that of the richest peers.

The only reason Stephen had gambled today was to win back some of his losses.

But his strategy once again had come up short.

He couldn’t recall ever succeeding against the baron—except, perhaps, at a few very early hands.

That was years ago. Every time Stephen tried to win, he just fell deeper into debt.

At first, he had hoped to reverse his luck to prove to Miles that he was worthy as a man, something he’d never felt when compared to his honorable brother.

Since his brother’s death, Stephen had hoped his mother would have turned to him for advice on financial matters.

Which would have given him access to her considerable fortune.

But no—she trusted the family solicitors, the sons of the old codgers his late father and brother had always relied upon.

And that left Stephen with little more than a title and mounting frustration.

If only he had pursued his painting, as his brother had encouraged him to do for years.

When he returned from the Napoleonic Wars, having seen things no one would want to see, he should have taken time to do something that would help soothe his spirit.

Painting could have helped. Had he taken his brother’s advice, he might have achieved success by now—enough to secure the financial independence he so desperately craved.

But instead, he had succumbed to the irresistible vices that had shadowed his life: wine, women, and gaming. Or more precisely in his case, cards.

This time, he had even tried to avoid the temptation of the free-flowing liquor—a lavish indulgence generously provided by the baron.

All the food and drink one could desire, and then some.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind—perhaps the baron had plotted against him.

But he quickly dismissed the idea. He’d never accuse the baron of such a scheme.

Stephen was many things, but a coward he was not, and blaming others for his troubles would be beneath him.

Regret coursed through him as he recalled the last words he’d exchanged with his brother—shortly before Miles’s untimely death. They’d had a heated argument over his gambling losses and excessive drinking.

Even then it had been too late to stop. His debts had already mounted to such an extent that the only solution was to keep playing and hope to win.

Alas, his losses had been the only consistent thing in his life.

The baron would be arriving soon, and the only thing he had told Stephen was that his debt had risen to a level that he now needed further concessions to cover his bills.

Stephen could feel the weight of the baron’s demands on his shoulders. He needed a plan… and he needed it now.

A tap at the study door sounded, and Garrett stepped inside. “My lord, Baron Darkmoor has arrived. Shall I show him in?”

Damn! He needed a few more minutes to think.

Unfortunately, he had nowhere to put Darkmoor.

He couldn’t leave him waiting in the drawing room because his mother was entertaining Dudley and the boy.

And he certainly wouldn’t have Garrett use his mother’s parlor.

She was very strict about the use of that room.

His brother had always let her have her way.

And now wasn’t the time to get into a row with his mother over who was in charge.

Swallowing, he said, “Show him in, Garrett.”

A few moments later, the baron strode in. Garrett bowed and closed the door behind them.

“May I offer you some brandy, baron?”

“I appreciate the offer, Bridgewater, but I’ll get right to the point,” the baron said, seating himself in the cordovan leather chair across from Stephen’s desk. “Your debt has gotten to the point that I must demand a larger payment on it. Or call in the entire amount.”

“I… I see,” Stephen said, hating the tremble in his voice that betrayed his anxiousness.

He had anticipated this, but still, hearing it out loud caused his insides to quake.

If Darkmoor called in the debt, how in the blazes would he cover it?

He didn’t have two farthings to rub together.

Stephen cleared his throat. “I must speak to my man of business. It may take a few days.” Hopefully, that might buy him some time.

“I would advise you not to wait,” the baron said in a smoothly sinister tone. Reaching out, he picked up a small miniature of Bella sitting on the corner of Stephen’s desk.

Stephen had planned to remove his brother’s personal effects from the desk but had forgotten.

“Your niece?” the man asked.

“Yes. That’s Bella,” Stephen said with a gulp. The man had a strange glint in his eye.

“She is already out in Society, no?” Darkmoor queried.

“Yes… but she has been in mourning for her father,” Stephen said.

“Ah! Her father. I knew the former Lord Bridgewater. Never set foot in my establishment. A very responsible and respectable gentleman. He would have generously provided for his daughter. Perhaps her fortune could be your gain.”

Stephen didn’t miss the insult and was appalled at the direction the conversation was taking. He could not steal from his niece, not even to save his own skin… could he?

“He did, and even though I am her guardian, I do not have access to the funds her father set aside for her.” He hoped that would end the conversation.

“Then you might have to sell an unentailed property. May I suggest you come up with a solution to your dilemma, as I will be calling your debts due in two weeks,” Darkmoor said.

“But you can’t. I… I mean, surely there is an amount we can agree on in the interim,” Stephen said, frustrated at the way this man made him feel.

“And my niece owns…” He realized what he was saying and closed his mouth, suddenly angry that his father and brother had left him out of their business dealings.

He was the second son and should have been included in the various duties and holdings of the estate.

While his late brother had left everything secure, it was under the helm of the blasted solicitors.

“Ah. Perhaps we are onto something. I assume your niece owns this property.”

Stephen was surprised that Darkmoor had guessed correctly, but nodded, thinking if he opened his mouth to speak, he would dig a deeper hole.

“And she comes of age… when?” Darkmoor demanded.

“When she turns twenty-one, according to my brother’s will,” Stephen said, suddenly realizing where this might be going.

“I’ve had the pleasure of seeing your niece in the village. A rare beauty. And quite spirited, from what I have observed.” Darkmoor smiled broadly. “A man would be lucky to have such a splendid young woman as a wife.”

A chill went up Stephen’s spine. He knew full well what the baron meant.

“I would like to marry her. I will court her, and we shall become betrothed. My ball is perfect for the beginning of our… relationship.”

“No… that won’t do. She intends to marry for love,” Stephen said. When he saw the scowl on the baron’s face, he wished he hadn’t.

“No, it will do. I will woo her first, of course. But once we are married, perhaps I will forgive some of your debt—depending on the value of her dowry,” Darkmoor said.

“The house is not part of her dowry,” Stephen blurted.

“Ah… but when she weds, whatever she owns becomes the property of her husband.”

Stephen had seen the paperwork. It specified that the house would belong to Bella, whether she married or not.

But he held his tongue. “Only if my niece agrees,” he said.

He couldn’t bring himself to force her against her will, if there was anything he could do about it.

What a mess. Now he was dragging everyone he loved into the same hole he had dug for himself.

“Then I must make sure she falls under my spell.” Darkmoor smiled that predatory smile once more as he got up from the chair.

“I will hold off on demanding full payment. We will work on the betrothal, instead. Do we have an agreement?” The baron held out his hand and, shocking himself to his core, Stephen gripped it.

~*~

The next morning

The town of Dover

The black lacquer Bridgewater carriage pulled up in front of the Sweet Shop, and a small group disembarked.

Bella was excited and a tad nervous. She had never met a gypsy before.

She looked down at the adorable boy who had insisted on being her escort.

Master Michael Dudley had been a delightful companion as they drove into town from the manor house—and was full of questions.

“Do you think the lady will be here, Gwand-mare?”

“Honey, I think so,” Lady Harrington said, giving a gentle pat to his golden curls.

. She rents a room at the back of Abernathy’s Tea Shop.

That is where she tells her fortunes. I thought she might come here for her midday meal.

This is where I encountered her last. Let me ask the proprietor.

If she’s not here, he may know where to find her,” Lady Harrington said, giving a gentle pat to his golden curls.

“We are glad you and your brother joined us today.”