How to Beguile a Beauty. Кейси Майклс

      The baron smiled and shook his head. “You’re right again. She should not be involved. Please extend my apologies to her, and excuse me as I tuck my tail between my legs and depart the scene of my latest crime.”

      “Justin, for the love of God—”

      “No, I’m being serious, Tanner. I should have gone directly to my estate in Hampshire, remained there as word slowly filtered back to London that I have returned, and only shown my face after a goodly amount of time had passed. Which is what I will do now.”

      “You’ll leave London? When? I’m sure Lydia would wish to say goodbye.”

      “I won’t be stealing out of town before dawn, Tanner. I’m sure we’ll meet again before I continue my penance in the country.”

      “While wearing a specially made hair shirt from your favorite tailor, no doubt,” Tanner said, which put a smile on his friend’s face.

      “We’ll meet again before I go. Oh, but before I forget. I feel the need to ask a most personal question. Are you experiencing some sort of financial pinch I might be able to help you with, my friend? And feel free to tell me to mind my own business.”

      Tanner looked at him curiously. “Why would you ask that? No, I’m more than well-to-go, thanks to my father’s prudent stewardship. He wasn’t much of a father, but he did hold every penny most dear.”

      “Interesting,” Justin said, glancing toward the ballroom. “So the necklace gracing your cousin’s beautiful neck is not then a part of the famous Malvern jewels?”

      “The emeralds? No, they’re part of the collection. It seemed sensible to provide Jasmine with the loan of a few minor pieces for the Season. Why?”

      “Why? Because they’re—no, I couldn’t be sure without my glass. Does the jewelry reside with her, or with you?”

      Once again, Tanner glanced toward the ballroom. “With me. Justin, are you saying—”

      “The emeralds are paste, yes, that’s what I’m saying, or trying very hard not to say. Very good paste, but paste just the same. Tomorrow at ten, Tanner? I don’t believe I have any other engagements. Most especially after I desert the dear lady whose invitation eased my way in here tonight. Perhaps I’m not a nice man, after all. I’ll bring my glass, just to be certain. But I doubt I am wrong.”

      Tanner nodded mutely, and then watched as the baron made his way down the flagstone, only entering the ballroom at the end of the balcony, close to the stairs, to collect his hat and gloves and be on his way.

      The duke remained where he was for several moments, mentally counting up the pieces of the Malvern jewelry he’d brought with him to town, and wondering if he should contact his solicitor for a more complete accounting of his funds.

      Thomas Harburton had been keeping the journals at Malvern for nearly a decade, even while Tanner’s father was alive. He’d know if the estate was solvent, wouldn’t he? No, best not to ask him, not until he knew what questions to ask.

      “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, the sound of violins intruding on his uncomfortable thoughts. Another set was forming, and Lydia was expecting Justin to come claim her.

      He set off across the ballroom.

      Chapter Five

      JASMINE HARBURTON WAS fanning herself so violently that the crimped ruffling around Lydia’s neckline was actually moving in the resultant breeze.

      “We have become part and parcel to a scandal, Lady Lydia,” the girl said, her eyes wide with what could be horror, or delight. It was difficult to know with Jasmine. “I understand Tanner’s feelings of obligation—Lord knows nobody should know that more than I—but how outrageous of him to foist the baron on us both, causing the pair of us to become the center of so much attention.”

      Then she turned to Lydia and smiled, and it became clear that delight had won out over horror. “Not only is my dance card full, but I’ve had to turn away two applicants. One of them a viscount, the other an earl. I’d say that Papa will be furious when I tell him, but then he may just as easily decide that there is nothing more apt to bring a man up to snuff than to believe he may be replaced. Oh, dear, I’m prattling again. I do that whenever I’m nervous. Oh, I already told you that, didn’t I? I’m so sorry. It takes just the thought of marrying Tanner to set my tongue on wheels.”

      The subject of Tanner, and this assumed betrothal, had been touched on earlier, before the baron’s arrival, before both Lydia and Jasmine had taken to the dance floor with him, before they both had seemed to become objects of considerable attention.

      Lydia hadn’t wished to appear eager to enter into any such conversation then, and she was even more loath to do so now.

      She was, however, curious. Much more curious than she ought to be, she was certain. So where else to begin, but with the obvious?

      “Tanner’s father has been dead these two years and more, I think. Is that correct?”

      Jasmine nodded furiously. “And Tanner has been back from the war for one of them, yes. Well, he was back for a minute, but then someone let Boney off his leash, as Papa says it, and he was gone again. In any event, his mourning period is most decidedly over. Papa said that’s why he didn’t ask for my hand that first year, which is understandable, what with his father only barely tucked into the mausoleum. And then Bonaparte did his flit and had to be dealt with—oh, I keep saying that, don’t I! I’m so sorry,” she said, snapping her fan shut and putting her hand on Lydia’s arm. “Tanner told me about your fiancé perishing at Quatre Bras. A Captain Swain Fitzgerald, I believe he said. Such a lovely Irish name. How terrible it all must have been for you.”

      Lydia didn’t bother correcting the young woman. After all, in her mind, the captain had been her betrothed. “Thank you.”

      “Oh, Lady Lydia, you’re so gracious. And I’m such a muddlehead.”

      “Lydia, please, Jasmine. We needn’t be quite so formal.”

      Jasmine clapped her hands to her bosom. “We’re crying friends? Oh, how wonderful. I have so few friends here in town that I must declare I’ve been woefully lonely. Thank you, thank you.”

      Really, the girl was sweet, and faintly silly, and perhaps even tiring. But Lydia believed her heart was pure. Besides, she had to admit to herself at least, the subject of Tanner and his dragging feet when it came to the matter of a proposal to his third cousin interested her. Quite a bit.

      “You’re welcome. And, now that we’re getting to know each other better, perhaps you’ll explain why you’ve taken your cousin in such dislike.”

      “Dislike? Oh, no, no. Tanner is the best of good fellows, really he is. I should be very honored, flattered—all of that—if he was to ask for my hand, make me his duchess.”

      “Oh,” Lydia said softly.

      “If I wanted to be his duchess, that is. But I don’t.” Jasmine looked out over the ballroom and then leaned close to whisper in Lydia’s ear. “My heart lies elsewhere.”

      Lydia’s own heart performed another of those disconcerting small flips in her chest. “It does?”

      Jasmine nodded furiously, her dark curls bouncing. “Papa doesn’t know, and he’d be furious if he did. And Tanner is so honorable, and, Papa says, duty bound to honor his father’s last wish.”

      “Yes,” Lydia said, sighing. “Duty bound. Tanner takes such promises quite seriously.”

      “But that’s just it, Lady—I mean, Lydia. Tanner promised his father nothing. It was Papa who promised to tell Tanner of the promise. Oh, it’s all too complicated. All I know is that sooner or later Tanner will bow to the inevitable, as will I. He fights it, I fight it, but we are doomed to marriage. I’m already wearing his