Merton inclined his head and looked grim. He was a handsome lad and a slender one, but Duncan's practiced eye registered the fact that it would be a mistake to assume that he was therefore a weakling. That youthful physique looked very well honed indeed, and the face had character. "Ah, Merton, well met," Duncan said. "You are just the man I would have been seeking out later today." He had not thought of doing so until this very moment actually. It was a while since he had made any formal marriage offer. But though Margaret Huxtable must be several years older than this brother she had brought up almost single-handed, it was surely the decent thing to do to meet formally with him to discuss marriage settlements and all the other business surrounding an impending marriage offer. "Later today is a little /too/ late, is it not," Merton asked him curtly, "when the question has already been asked and answered and word spread among half the /ton/? And announced in the morning paper?" "Announced in the paper?" Duncan asked in astonishment. "More or less," Merton said. "On the gossip page, anyway." Extraordinary. And it /must/ have been the military officer with the weak chin. No one else could have seen him and Miss Huxtable talking with each other and thought of spreading the rumor that they were /betrothed/. Duncan would not mind having a word or two with Major Dew.
How was Miss Huxtable holding up this morning? he wondered. Were circumstances playing into his hands and almost forcing her into accepting him? If the /ton/ believed that she was betrothed to him – and clearly it did, or /would/ once it had read the papers this morning – she would cause herself some embarrassment if she cried off. On the other hand, marrying him was going to bring her scandal. He was not the /ton/'s favorite son.
Miss Margaret Huxtable, it seemed, had trapped herself somewhere between the devil and the deep blue sea. "I would have said no a thousand times over," Merton said while Moreland loomed, silent and menacing, "if you had done all this properly and spoken with me privately first. I would /still/ say no if the answer were mine to give. Unfortunately, Meg is not subject to my will. She is her own person and can answer for herself. I do not like you, Sheringford." Duncan raised his eyebrows. "As far as I remember," he said, "we met for the first time a few moments ago, Merton. You form impressions with great haste." "I do not like men," Merton said, "who abandon their brides to private heartache and public scorn and run off with lawfully married ladies instead. I do not like such men at all especially when they are contemplating marriage to one of my sisters. And I do not need any prolonged acquaintance to form such an opinion." Duncan inclined his head. "We are beginning to attract attention," Moreland said.
The hall was large enough and wide enough that they were in no danger of blocking the progress of other gentlemen as they arrived or left. But heads were indeed turning their way – and no wonder if the Tindell ballroom had been as abuzz with gossip as Duncan imagined it must have been – and if the gossip writer had made as juicy a morsel of the story as gossip writers usually did. And now here was he, the notorious Lord Sheringford, in company with Miss Huxtable's brother and brother-in-law, all of them looking as solemn as if they were attending a funeral. Yes, of course they were attracting attention. "I promised Miss Huxtable last evening," Duncan said, "that I would call upon her at Merton House this afternoon. If I may, Merton, I will speak with you there first." Merton nodded stiffly, and Duncan bowed to the two gentlemen and went on his way.
He would have left White's without having gone farther than the reception hall, but sheer pride prevented him from crawling away now.
Besides, he wanted to read what had been written about him in the papers. He proceeded upstairs, where he was greeted by a number of gentlemen. Indeed some of the greetings were jovial and even raucous and accompanied by much back-slapping. Among a certain crowd, it seemed, he had established himself as one devil of a fine fellow.
And then he read the description of himself as a jilt and a wife-stealer.
Both perfectly true.
And he read that he had been presented to the friend who had come to the rescue of Miss Huxtable as her betrothed.
It was indeed Dew who had betrayed her, then. /Again/.
Duncan would definitely want a word with that particular military officer.
There was, he learned before leaving the club after an early luncheon, a wager written into the betting book on whether or not he would abandon /this/ bride at the altar. The odds were heavily in favor of his doing so.
And this afternoon he would be making Miss Margaret Huxtable a formal marriage offer, which she might well feel compelled to accept now. He would be left with thirteen days in which to present her to his grandfather and arrange a wedding by special license.
His freedom was going to be bought – /if/ she accepted him, that was – at a high price.
Though freedom was not the issue, was it?
Toby was.
6
MARGARET'S first instinct after seeing the paper was to retreat to her room, crawl back into bed, and pull the covers up over her head. Perhaps by the time she emerged the whole sorry episode would be ancient news and someone would have murdered his grandmother or married his scullery maid or ridden naked along Rotten Row or done something equally startling with which to distract the fickle attention of the /ton/.