Queen of my Hart - Emily Royal Page 0,2
another daughter,” Alderley said.
“Have you taken leave of your senses, old chap?” Strathdean asked. “I’ve known you for over twenty years. You have two children—a son and a daughter.”
“I have three children,” Alderley said. My natural daughter is my firstborn. Her harlot of a mother blackmailed me into recognizing her as my own.”
“Surely, you’re jesting!” Stiles said.
“I’m perfectly serious,” Alderley replied. “And now I can reap my reward in lieu of the expense of her keep. Thank the devil I’ll no longer have to waste any more funds on her.”
Elizabeth had gone pale with rage. “Papa!” she cried. “Tell them you’re jesting! I’ll marry Hart to preserve your reputation. I am happy to sacrifice myself—for you. And nobody need mention that bastard again!”
A volley of tutting resonated around the room at her coarse expression.
Hypocritical creature! It was she who’d suggested the scheme to extort her father’s funds in order to secure his overt blessing on their marriage. Yet now, she was playing the martyr!
“Elizabeth, I won’t throw you away on that uncouth brute when I have someone far more expendable,” Alderley said. He turned his gaze to Dexter. “You wouldn’t dream of going back on your word, would you, Hart? Imagine the damage it would do to your reputation! What other contracts might you be willing to break?”
The man was right. In a roomful of men—existing and potential investors—Dexter had signed a pledge. There was no going back without losing his reputation. And for a banker, reputation was everything.
Alderley struggled to his feet and held out his hand. Though Dexter longed to slice it off with a steak knife, he had no choice but to take it.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Hart,” he said. “I trust you’ll find satisfaction with your purchase. I’d call it the perfect match, but would argue that even the bastard daughter of a viscount ranks above the grandson of a blacksmith.”
***
“Celebrating already, Hart?”
Dexter looked up from his brandy. His friend Harold Pelham stood before him, a broad smile on his face.
No, Dexter was most certainly not celebrating.
His plans to marry himself and his siblings to titles had been destroyed. Dorothea was too old to consider a respectable union that didn’t stink of desperation. Delilah had fallen pregnant out of wedlock. As for Daisy—that horse had already bolted.
“May I join you?” Pelham asked.
“It’s a free country,” Dexter growled. “A man can come and go as he pleases.”
“Not in Whites.” Pelham settled into a chair. “Fortunately, some havens exist to give a man sanctuary from the rest of the world.”
“Are you here to escape the world, Pelham?” Dexter asked. “Or do you seek sanctuary from your wife?”
Pelham let out a laugh. “The secret to a successful marriage is each party having a haven in which to be themselves for a few hours, rather than one half of a couple. Of course, you’ll soon learn this yourself, won’t you, Hart? We should toast your good fortune.”
Dexter sighed. “News travels fast.”
“Most men win cash in a wager,” Pelham said, “though Stiles won a horse last Season at the cast of a die. But I know of no man who managed to win himself a wife.”
“I’d have preferred the horse.”
Pelham laughed. “I’m sure you’ll ride the woman just as well. Though, if I’m permitted to be honest, I’d say you’d be hard-pressed to find happiness shackled to the honorable Elizabeth Alderley.”
“I’m not marrying Elizabeth.”
“Aren’t you betrothed to Alderley’s daughter?”
“Elizabeth has an older sister.”
“There’s a brother in the army,” Pelham said, “but I know of no sister. Surely she’d have had her come-out by now?”
“It seems Alderley has a natural daughter,” Dexter said.
“You jest.”
“Unfortunately, not.”
The humiliation at being bested still stung. Alderley had played a longer game than Dexter thought him capable of, revealing his piece on the chessboard when least expected.
“It seems he tucked her away in some obscure little village,” Dexter said, “to be brought into play when he had use of her.”
“Have you met her?”
“No,” Dexter said. “With luck, I’ll never have to.”
“You’d be excused if you refused,” Pelham said. “Alderley’s on shaky ground if he takes out a lawsuit.”
“It’s a matter of honor,” Dexter said. “I signed an agreement in front of some of the most prominent men of London society to wed Alderley’s eldest child. With a business founded on reputation, I cannot risk breaking the promise I gave my signature to.” He drained his glass. “My only hope is that she’ll do me the honor of jilting me at the altar.”
Pelham let