The Bridal Contract (Darrington family Book 3) (3 page)

Daniela happened to peer up just then. Moisture spiked her long lashes and streaked her cherub cheeks. Though her chin quivered and the noise she produced echoed in the previously quiet room, compassion washed over him. He’d had a happy and wonderful childhood, full of love and affection and all the adventure his heart had needed. Who was he to deny this little one a decent start at her own?

He scrawled his signature on the few papers before his common sense could talk him out of it. The sand had barely had time to help the ink dry before Mrs. Blaine yanked the documents from the table then deposited them in her bag. “What else do I need to know about the girl?”

“There is nothing to know. Children don’t come with instructions, Mr. Darrington. From what I was able to coax out of the girl, she rarely saw her mother. Spent most of her days playing with the few other children in the immediate area or with an older woman who watched her most times. You knew her mother. At least that’s something.” She made her way to the door just as Susan returned with the tea things.

“Won’t you stay for a bit of refreshment?” Oliver asked, though he couldn’t wait to be free of the dour woman. “Please,” he tacked on as an afterthought. Playing at niceties would be what Felix would have done.

“No, thank you. I have a schedule to keep.” Mrs. Blaine swept into the hall with the still-sobbing Daniela following at her heels.

Oliver uttered an apology to Susan. He increased his pace to catch up to Mrs. Blaine. “What do I feed a child? Where shall she sleep? This house isn’t fitted for the younger set.” The questions tripped off his tongue. “Dear Lord, what about schooling?” Even worse, what would his mother say once word of his stunt leaked out to London? He groaned. The potential for scandal hit him hard in the gut.

Have I done the right thing?

“You’ll sort it out, Mr. Darrington. Good day.” She wrenched open the front door, waving off Oliver’s assistance at the same moment a liveried messenger, no doubt from his mother, arrived, his hand raised as if to knock.

The young man tipped his hat. “Special letter from London, my lord. For you. My orders were to deliver it as soon as you moved in.” He handed over the missive.

“Thank you. Would you like to enjoy refreshment?” Oliver murmured as he struggled to hide his shock.

“I’d better not, my lord. Mrs. Darrington wouldn’t like it.” The messenger nodded then took his leave. Both he and Mrs. Blaine cleared the gate at the end of the walkway the same time.

“I want to go!” Daniela cried as she ran down the sandstone bricks toward the gate, which Mrs. Blaine closed firmly behind her.

Oliver heaved a sigh. Should he go after the child? Perhaps if she managed to manipulate the latch? He ripped open the letter and a curse left his mouth when he spied his mother’s signature at the bottom. One phrase leaped out. “I demand you join me in London so you can pay a proper visit to your mother.”

What else could go wrong, and it not even noon?

Chapter Two

Miss Eloisa Hawthorne tapped the end of a pencil against her chin as she stared at her sister, Helen, or more to the point, stared in her general direction but didn’t see her. All her energy went into formulating a reply in letter form to the dissolute lord who had the gall to think he’d marry Helen a month hence.

“What are you thinking?” Helen asked from the foot of Eloisa’s bed. The girl had pulled up her feet and tucked them beneath her while she made herself cozy with a book in hand.

“How best to eviscerate Lord Everly and his intentions in this letter but be clever enough that he won’t be certain I have.”

Helen frowned. Her pretty brown eyes reflected sadness. “You know that won’t matter to Charles. He’s adamant this union occur.”

“Our brother is desperate, plain and simple.” Eloisa tossed aside her pencil and notebook. “Just because he needs to cover his enormous gaming debts doesn’t mean he should essentially sell off his youngest sister to a veritable pig of a man.”

“Or any man for that matter,” Helen rejoined.

“Exactly.” Eloisa shivered. Lord Everly was an earl of some influence. However, he was also a fat pig of a man, known as much for his gluttonous ways as he was for a deplorable temper and horrible treatment of anyone who served his needs. “I wonder if this plan was Charles’ idea or if Cecilia concocted it.” It was no secret that her sister-in-law disliked anything that took the focus from her. Having two other women under her roof hadn’t settled well.

“Who can say?” A note of finality crept into Helen’s voice. “What’s done is done.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Her skirts twisting beneath her, Eloisa scooted down the bed, until she could put an arm around her sister. “I promise you won’t need to be that man’s wife.” Though how she’d accomplish the feat, she had no idea.

She peered at Helen and couldn’t help but grin. Just turned nineteen, the girl possessed a lithe figure, sparkling brown eyes and thick, brown hair the color of coffee. She was as different from Eloisa as day was to night. Eloisa touched one of her blonde-brown curls and sighed. Where Helen was taller than average girls and held an air of the passion of the Mediterranean, Eloisa would forever be petite in height and as pale as any Englishman. Obviously, Helen had taken strongly after their mother’s Italian heritage.

“You deserve more than Charles is handing you.” Eloisa shook her head. Their brother’s gambling had gotten worse since the family moved from London to Brighton three months ago. Charles hated the seaside town, hated being away from the bustling metropolis, and perhaps that was how he dealt with it. But to think the answer to his problems was to trade Helen for coin?
Bah.
She’d lost respect for him in that moment. “Too bad there are only a limited amount of honorable, decent men in this world.”

Helen uttered an unladylike snort. “Spare me another speech about how much a paragon your dead fiancé was.”

Grief speared her heart as it always did whenever Peter was mentioned. “I cannot help that I loved him grandly. That feeling likely won’t fade.”

“He was your first love. That may have been grand, but I doubt he’ll be your only love. You’re allowed to let yourself care for another.”

“What do you know of love? You’re but a child.”

“I had a couple of romances.” Her sister’s smile turned enigmatic. “In fact, I’m flirting with one now.”

“Botheration, child.” Eloisa shook her head. “Don’t be naughty.”

“Don’t be a stick in the mud. Being naughty is half the fun.” Helen bounced off the bed. When she turned to her sister, her eyes blazed with hope. “Second chances can be especially sweet, sometimes stronger than the first. You should live again.”

“I’m living quite well, thank you.” Her retort sounded on this side of prudish. Second chances were fine indeed, though she’d always carry his memory deep in her heart. No doubt Peter was the reason she’d never actively encouraged suitors. She’d achieved the age of nine and twenty without finding another man who set her insides aflame. Yes, she’d done her fair share of flirting at routs and parties. One couldn’t just lock oneself away indefinitely, but she’d promised Peter she would only love him and that was the end of it. “None of it negates the fact I do miss him.”

“Dearest sister, I say this with the utmost affection, I think you miss the idea of being in love. It’s been years. Time to seek out comfort with another.”

Oh, the viewpoints of the young. “I’m not sure anymore.”

Melancholy washed over her. Had he lived, they would have married two years ago, just before Christmas, but the Peninsular War claimed his life. A sad smile touched her lips. In one of her fond imaginings, she liked to dream they’d had a child. It wasn’t that great of a stretch. Warmth invaded her cheeks. She’d laid with Peter the night before he’d gone off to war, promised him everything that night, but fate hadn’t followed through. That fact had had to be carefully hidden. If not, she’d be branded, and that would have been worse than what really had happened. Though here were times she wondered what life could have been. That coming together hadn’t resulted in a child, and perhaps that had been for the best. If it had, she’d have a daily reminder of what she’d lost; but on the other hand, a living memento would have been nice when missing him grew unbearable in the alone times.

“I suppose you’ll always miss him. I can scarcely recall his features myself, but then, I was still in the schoolroom when you courted.” Helen twirled around and her sky blue skirts flared about her shins. “Imagine the possibilities of a new love.”

“I’d rather not, thank you.” Eloisa slid from the bed then walked to the window. She pushed open the glass and leaned out enough to catch the gentle breeze. “I’ve too much to attend to and don’t wish for the distraction of a suitor.” Besides, if she did find herself in love with another, would he want her still when he discovered she wasn’t as pure as the driven snow?

“That’s what you always say,” Helen replied with a decided pout in her voice. “I’m in the mood for a right good party. I want to order a fine gown and wear jewels in my hair. A new engagement on your part would be just the thing.”

This time Eloisa rolled her eyes. “If you don’t leave me in peace, it’ll be your engagement we’re celebrating, and I’ll wager no amount of new gowns or fripperies will take the sting out of this ill-fated match, even if Charles did have the coin for such extravagances.” Another thread of panic wrapped around her spine. Her baby sister was too young, too sweet and too vital to waste on Lord Everly. “I’ll think of something. Never fear.”

“You always do.” Helen hugged Eloisa’s back. “I’m sorry you’ve had to beg off your duties at the lending library to take care of this.” Her full lips tilted downward with a frown. “I know how much you enjoy that position.”

“Mr. Dunderson wasn’t best pleased when I asked to be excused again today, but he told me to come back when domestic affairs were settled.” The older gentleman had given her the position shortly after she and her family had arrived in Brighton. It would be the height of bad form to disappoint him, and she did so enjoy keeping the books categorized just so. She glanced back at the bed and her notebook. Yet she couldn’t fail her sister either. “I’d like to hope for a dose of brilliance for that letter.”

Helen squeezed her shoulder. “You’re ever so clever. You’ll think of something. I hope.” Her voice wavered on the last bit.

“I’m planning on it.” Except, a bizarre cacophony of sound drifted to her ears through the open window. Nothing would be accomplished with that noise. She cocked her head. “Do you hear that?”

“What?” Her sister stood beside her and looked outside.

“That!” Eloisa gestured toward her neighbor’s town house to the left of theirs “It sounds like,” she pursed her lips, “like a child crying.” The discordant noise came again, only louder and in the most disheartening manner, as if the poor little’s heart was breaking. “Sobbing, actually. Grief-stricken, possibly. Or perhaps confused. Scared, definitely.”

“I wasn’t aware our neighbors had a child,” Helen mused. “I was told by the baker’s son this morning the owner had only returned today.”

Eloisa abandoned her contemplation of the house next door to gape at her sister. “The baker’s son? That’s who you’ve set your cap for?”

Rosy color crept into Helen’s face. “He’s a sweet man and I enjoy his company, such as it is every morning when I buy pastries for us all. It doesn’t mean I’ll marry him.”

“I should hope not. A baker’s son with no prospects won’t be able to support you in the life you deserve.” She returned her attention to her neighbor’s house. A messenger entered through the gate and ran lightly up the walkway. Moments later, a knock sounded and the low buzz of male voices drifted to Eloisa’s position.

“The life I deserve is to be loved and to give that emotion in return, no matter where it’s found,” Helen murmured from beside her. “That’s what anyone should want for their lives. There really is nothing else.”

Oh, she’d been that young and idealistic before, which was why she needed to save her sister, especially since this would be no love match. Life simply didn’t work like that, but Eloisa kept her own council. It wasn’t her place to crush her sister’s dreams. Instead, she glanced down. The messenger exited the garden at the same time as a drab woman in a gray suit. Seconds later, a little girl with masses of black, curly hair raced over the cobblestones while sobs emanated from her.

“There
is
a child!” She leaned out the window again. “Who lives there now? I vaguely remember Charles saying something about it belonging to the Darrington family, but they haven’t been down to Brighton in years.” Their neighbor on the other side, the Marquess of Ravenhurst, hadn’t been in residence in years either, so to have activity in such close proximity was rather odd.

“The Darringtons still own it. I think it’s the younger son who’s returned.”

The younger son. What the devil was his name? She wracked her brain. Oliver perhaps? “Well, someone has a child, and she’s upset and quite loud.” Letter writing wouldn’t commence with that racket. “I’m going over there.”

Helen chuckled. “And do what? Scold the child for making noise? Lecture the adults for letting a child loose?”

“I’m not sure, but I will know when I arrive.” She scooted away from the window.

“I’m sure the Darringtons won’t be bossed like you’ve done me,” her sister called in a sing-song voice as Eloisa dashed out then down the stairs.

“I don’t boss,” she muttered as she let herself outside. “I don’t even manage. I just see an easy way of fixing a problem,” she said aloud while she quickly stepped through her own gate. Seconds later, she’d traversed the walkway leading to the Darrington house. In a twinkling she manipulated the gate’s latch and entered their garden.

The little girl she’d seen before was no longer in sight, but the front door to the town house gaped open, and from the sound of things, chaos reigned inside.

Eloisa shook her head, as if that action would suddenly quiet the storm. The closer she came up the cobblestones, the louder the discord grew as well as the anxiety crawling over her skin. She’d never met any of the Darrington clan, had never encountered them while in London and her knowledge of them only consisted of repeated stories and innuendo. Perhaps it was the height of gauche to arrive uninvited, but the noisy situation must be dealt with.

When she reached the doorway, she stepped over the threshold and assessed the situation. “Oh, dear heavens.” Two older people stood in the entry, looking at sixes and sevens, with the woman holding the crying child in her arms. Another man, younger than the first, stood off to one side, spectacles balanced at the end of his nose while he read a letter. He seemed oblivious to the discomfort of the others in his party. Obviously, the situation wouldn’t be resolved until order was restored. “I beg your pardon, but can someone tell me what’s happening here?”