"A bit too soon to gloat, Blade. Still some life in the old horse."
Simon eyed his enemy, astonished, in spite of himself. By rights, the man should have been desperate by now. "I congratulate you, Faringdon. You certainly do not have the air of a gentleman who cannot meet his debts of honor."
"I fully intend to meet my vowels, sir. Never fear."
Simon sat down slowly, wondering how in hell the man could be so confident when it was clear he was facing disaster. "I trust you know better than to expect help from your daughter."
"Emily's a good daughter. Always been able to rely on her." Faringdon hoisted his port and took a deep swallow.
"Not this time, Faringdon."
"We shall see." Broderick scanned the room as if looking for other players who might be ready for a game.
Simon watched him. "Does this mean you would not be interested in a bargain, Faringdon?" he asked softly.
Broderick's head came around swiftly, blue eyes keen. "What are you talking about?"
"I am willing to pay off your debts under certain conditions."
Broderick had the look of a hunting hound on the scent of a rabbit. "Good God. Did she get to you, then? Talk you into doing the right thing by me? Knew she would. She's a good girl, she is, just like I always said. Got a real sweet way about her, don't she? Just like her mama."
"This has nothing to do with Emily. This is between you and me, Faringdon. Are you interested?"
Broderick grinned. " 'Course I am. Always interested in a financial proposition. What are you offering, Blade?"
"To pay off your debts in full in exchange for your agreement to accept a position as manager of my estates in Yorkshire."
"Yorkshire." Broderick choked on his last swallow of wine.
"I am breeding horses there and it occurs to me that your one undeniable skill is your eye for first quality bloodstock. You would have to give me your word that you would not return to London or your gaming habits. This would be a position, Faringdon, and I would expect you to work at it with the same industriousness with which you have always pursued gaming."
"You must be out of your bloody mind," Broderick sputtered. "Send me off to Yorkshire to run some damn breeding farm? Not on your life, Blade. I'm a man o' the world, not a farmer. Get out of here. I don't need your goddamn offer of a position. I can take care of my own debts."
"Without the help of your daughter?"
"Who says my daughter won't help me, by God?"
"I do." Simon stood up, disgusted with himself for even making the offer. "That part will not change, Faringdon. Not ever. I will never again allow you to use Emily."
"Bastard. We shall see about that."
Simon shrugged, picked up his hat, and walked toward the door.
It baffled him why anyone was particularly attracted toward the occasional, inexplicable impulse to be forgiving. It was obvious the world did not appreciate such naive qualities and acting on them only left one feeling like an idiot.
Still, Simon was rather glad he had made the crazed offer to Broderick. He made a note to mention his generous act to Emily after the soiree. She would look at him with her customary adoration and tell him how she had known all along he would be generous and heroic in victory. The fact that her father had failed to accept the offer in Yorkshire would be Broderick's problem, not Simon's.
Simon would no longer have to feel the lash of guilt whenever he looked into Emily's eyes.
Yes, he decided as he walked out of the hell, he was already feeling much better. He would like to tell Emily about his good deed tonight but she was frantic with soiree preparations. She would not be able to be suitably grateful and adoring. Much better to wait until the household had been restored to a semblance of calm.
"Emily can relax," Araminta murmured to Simon the next evening. "Her soiree is a brilliant success. The house is packed with guests, the street is clogged with carriages, the buffet is a perfect combination of the exotic as well as sturdy English fare, and the music is of excellent quality. Tomorrow morning everyone will be calling this a highlight of the Season."
Simon nodded coolly as he glanced around the crowded rooms. Laughter and music and conversation hummed through the townhouse. Emily's soiree was, indeed, a stunning success. "Have you seen Emily recently?"
"I noticed her talking to Lady Linton a short while ago." Araminta scanned the crowd. "I do not see her now. Perhaps she has gone to check with Greaves to see that the staff has everything under control. She has fretted over every detail of this evening. It's a wonder she has not collapsed from sheer exhaustion."
Simon frowned, aware of a vague sense of unease. It had begun a few minutes ago and was intensifying rapidly. "If you will excuse me, I believe I shall attempt to find her."
"Good luck. You might check with your butler. He has been keeping an eye on things."
"I will do that." Simon made his way through the knots of elegantly dressed people, pausing occasionally to exchange civilities and acknowledge compliments on Emily's charm as a hostess.
He eventually reached the hall, which was as crowded as the drawing room. He quickly located Greaves.
"Have you seen Lady Blade recently?" Simon asked.
"A few minutes ago, my lord." Greaves glanced around. "I do not see her now. Shall I have one of the footmen look for her?"
The uneasy sensation was getting worse. "Yes," Simon said. "Immediately. I shall check the kitchens."
"I doubt she would be in there, sir." Greaves gave a disapproving frown. "I advised her it would be best if she stayed with her guests and left the staff to see to the replenishment of the refreshments."
"Perhaps she is taking a short rest in the library. I will try there first."
The uneasiness had turned into a strong sense of urgency. Simon let himself into the library, which had been declared off limits to guests, and closed the door behind him.
It was something of a relief to step into the quiet sanctum. Simon saw at once that Emily was nowhere in sight, however, and the urgency crystallized into a genuine sense of foreboding.
He walked to the windows and glanced out into the gardens. There was just enough light pouring from the house to reveal a flicker of shadow near one of the hedges.
Simon froze as he recognized the swirling hem of a familiar dark cloak.
He told himself it was undoubtedly a guest who had gone outside for some fresh air but even as he tried to reassure himself he knew something was wrong.
Acting on instinct, Simon opened the window, threw one leg over the sill, and dropped lightly down onto the damp grass.
A moment later he was slipping silently along in the shadow of the tallest hedge. He caught sight of his quarry a short time later.
It was Emily, he realized grimly. There was no doubt about it. She was wearing her black velvet cloak.
Even as Simon watched, she unlocked the gate and stepped cautiously out into the dark alley. Simon started forward, his stomach cold with dread. He stopped short as a familiar masculine voice rose out of the darkness on the other side of the wall.
"Well, well, well," Crofton drawled contemptuously. "So you managed to pull it off, did you? I hope you have had the good sense to bring me one of Blade's better specimens concealed under your cloak, my dear. I would not want to have to send you back for another so soon."
"There will be no more, Mr. Crofton," Emily said fiercely.
"Oh, I think there will, Lady Blade. Your husband's wealth is a matter of much speculation, but there is no doubt it is considerable. I do not think he will miss one or two more of his odd statues."