He handed one to Baldwyn and raised his own in toast. “To
your engagement, Paisley. May she be everything you need.” Montmouth gulped the
contents of his glass and laughed once more. Baldwyn eyed the amber liquid in
his glass before tossing down his whiskey drink as well then lifted his glass
to request another.
His host shook his head with a smirk and took the glass from
Baldwyn’s grasp. “I think not, Paisley. After all, a gentleman should be
altogether alert when meeting his future wife.”
“I’d rather be foxed when the assault ensues.” Baldwyn scanned
the room once more looking for some worthy place to hide.
As if reading his intent, Montmouth said, “There’s no good
place to hide in here, Paisley. Your grandmother will find you if she has to
bring in the dogs.” He stepped toward the door. “I have to see to my
newly-arriving guests. Feel at liberty to search out a more worthy concealment…
but do stay out of my whiskey.” With that, the Duke of Montmouth disappeared
through the doorway, leaving Baldwyn to wallow in his apprehension.
He didn’t linger. Eventually, his grandmother would come
looking for him. It would be far wiser to keep moving, throw the bloodhounds
off his scent. As he entered the corridor the music from the ballroom drifted
into the hall. Baldwyn cringed. He would have to dance with her. She would
probably trip him.
How he longed for the serenity of his estate in Scotland. Of
course, in that moment, he longed for the serenity the war on the Continent
could provide.
Baldwyn stepped into the ballroom and glanced around the
room. More guests were arriving by the minute. The dowager duchess was nowhere
to be seen. His eyes fell on the balcony doors on the far side of the room. A
perfect place to hide. No one would yet be there so early in the evening, not
with the weather so bitterly cold.
He began his trek through the room, nodding and offering
brief polite pleasantries to the few guests he encountered in his path. He
could hide there, wait for Lord Marks and his daughter to be announced, and get
a good look at the girl before being forced into her company… for life. If
nothing else, it would give him an illusion of some control in the arrangement.
“Paisley!” A familiar voice drew his attention from his
destination. Baldwyn turned to find himself face to face with an old family
friend. One with whom he had spent many a night carousing about the town back
in those old days past.
“Rawlings!” The sight of his old chum comforted him
somewhat, making him think of simpler times. No responsibilities. No demands.
No betrothals.
“You just missed a fair bit of excitement!” Rawlings
appeared to be entertained still. Amusement danced behind his dark eyes.
“Oh? What did I miss?” There were hardly enough guests here
for a mouse in the kitchen to cause a rumpus. At any rate, there seemed to be
no evidence of anything out of the ordinary now.
“The dowager duchess discovered Banbury on the balcony with
Lady Katherine. The look on his face! I’ll never forget that sight as long as I
live.”
It took a moment to fully absorb the information. Surely not
even his grandmother would be capable of two forced betrothals in one evening.
A knot formed in his stomach. Even if he had entertained thoughts of escaping
her schemes, the old woman would find a way to trap him. Just as she had
apparently done to Benedict, his cousin. Perhaps he had shown signs of less
than full cooperation.
Baldwyn would have to step prudently. Avoid balconies, dark
corners, and above all, Lord Marks’ daughter. If Benedict Devlyn, the Devil
Duke himself, could be ensnared — a man of legendary prowess, who was always
rumored but never seen to be ruining some girl, could find himself caught in a
woman’s trap — what hope was there for mankind?
“Where is he now?” Baldwyn scrutinized the growing crowd. If
what Rawlings said was true, Benedict would need a shot of that whiskey.
“Somewhere collecting the remaining fragments of his
dignity, no doubt,” Rawlings answered with laugh.
“I suppose I had better seek him out and see to his wounded
pride.”
“Right. And I must dance with Lady Rawlings before she
becomes entrenched in gossip with her sister. It’s good to see you, Paisley.”
He bowed slightly and sauntered toward the refreshments where his wife stood
conversing with the Duchess of Tempest.
