4. An Emboldened Man

Meanwhile, back in the pink room

After the young lady’s departure from her room, David Engleston held his breath as he listened to the fading conversation between the woman he now thought of as ‘my sweet’ and her uncle. In an attempt to hear better, he opened the door and surreptitiously glanced out. The last words he heard were, I expect Lord Engleston is an excellent catch.

He leaned his head against the adjacent wall, his heart pounding so hard, he could hear his pulse in his ears.

Bless her heart,he thought.

In desperate need of air, he took a deep breath and let it out, aware of a wonderful floral scent that seemed to suddenly surround him.

Her scent.

He sniffed, determined to catch as much of the sweet air as he could.

Then realization set in, and he grimaced.

His sweet’s uncle was Richard Copper, Earl of Penhurst. Dicky.

He had wondered why the earl would think it so important David be betrothed by the end of his stay at the Soho Club. Why he would make mention of it over cards with Lord Huntley.

But why did Huntley find it so amusing?

David dipped his head. “I suppose I deserve that,” he murmured to himself. At his age, he really should be married. He should have already started his nursery. Fathered an heir and a spare, shyness be damned.

He dared another glance out the door, and finding the corridor empty, he stepped out of the pink room and closed the wood panel as quietly as he could manage. The floral scent of his sweet once again surrounded him, and he inhaled softly.

Marian.

The earl had called her ‘Marian’ when he had knocked on the door.

Pausing at his room—he thought it best he take a quick look in a mirror to be sure he was still presentable—David was about to insert his key into the lock when Marcus Smith-Jones, Viscount Huntley, emerged from the next room down the corridor.

“There you are,” Marcus said, obviously surprised to see David. “I was beginning to think you hadn’t made the trip.”

“Oh, how do, Huntley?” David managed, his nervousness returning when he remembered they weren’t supposed to be using their real names. “Have you been here long?”

“Oh, all day,” Huntley replied. “And you?”

Deciding he didn’t need to go back into his room after all, David stepped away from his door and shrugged. “A half-hour, I suppose.”

The viscount jerked his head back. “Well, what’s kept you?” he asked as the two headed for the stairs. “We had a wicked game of whist going on in the card parlor.”

Remembering the reason for Huntley’s visit to his room, David decided to forego temerity in favor of vexing the viscount. “Oh? Well, I would have come down sooner, but I wished to spend some time with my betrothed.” He angled his head in Huntley’s direction as they made their descent and realized it was fortunate they were nearly at the bottom of the stairs.

Marcus, Viscount Huntley, stumbled. His arms flailed as he was forced to turn his body and take several quick steps in the middle of a stair runner before landing on his bum. His feet ended up on the next step down, which meant his knees were bent and spread wide. The distinctive sound of tearing fabric had the man grimacing. Given his pot belly and thin limbs, he looked like a frog with his back leaning against a log.

“Good God, man, are you all right?” David asked in alarm. He reached out a hand to help the viscount.

Marcus stared up at him in disbelief. “Ha! I could swear I heard you say something about your betrothed,” he said as he struggled to stand. Even with David’s assistance, it was a moment before the viscount was put to rights.

“I did, actually,” David replied, feeling rather emboldened.

His brows furrowed, Marcus stared at him a moment. “Well, who is she? What’s her name?”

David drew his head back so his single chin became two. “No names. Remember, we’re in the Soho Club.”

About to put voice to a protest, Marcus couldn’t when David headed toward the card parlor. Huffing, Marcus brushed a hand across his behind in an attempt to determine how much damage had been done to his breeches. Deciding his topcoat tails would hide the evidence of the tear, he hurried to catch up to the baron.

David paused on the threshold, a most delicious excitement making him grin when he spotted his betrothed sitting across from Richard, Earl of Penhurst. In a room filled with gentlemen wearing dark topcoats and garish waistcoats of various colors and a few rather conservatively dressed women, Marian shone like a gold foil-backed diamond. She had a deck of cards in one hand and her gaze on a set of three cards she had dealt to the earl.

His shyness nearly returned when she glanced up and gave him a brilliant smile. “Oh, my dearest,” she blurted as she dropped the deck of cards to the table and stood.

David gave her a matching grin and hurried to take her hand to his lips. “Oh, my sweet. You look lovelier than when I last saw you,” he gushed as he bowed, well aware that Marcus watched from the threshold. As for the others in the room, well, he hadn’t noticed there were four other tables of card players engaged in games of whist until the noise in the room died down somewhat at his sudden appearance and declaration.

Across the table, Richard’s eyes rounded as David kissed his niece on the cheek. “Engleston? What the?—?”

“Remember, no names,” David interrupted as he raised a finger in the direction of the earl, his gaze never leaving Marian’s. “We’re at the Soho Club.”

Richard scoffed. “I don’t care where we are. You’ll unhand Miss Copper this very instant.”

Miss Copper. Marian Copper, David reasoned, still holding onto her warm gloved hand. In the brighter lighting of the card parlor, he discovered she was prettier than he remembered. Fairer, too, her features soft and set on a heart-shaped face with translucent skin. Her hair, which had appeared brunette upstairs, was highlighted with strands of gold and mahogany that shimmered under the room’s chandelier. “I must say, I’m thrilled you are the uncle of such a fine creature as my sweet,” David responded. “Are you also her guardian?”

One of Richard’s brows furrowed in suspicion. “I am indeed,” he answered slowly.

“Oh, good. Then let us make this betrothal official, shall we?” David went on, emboldened enough to complete the niceties. “Will you give me permission to marry your niece?” He was aware of his sweet’s mouth rounding although her gaze never left him to see that her uncle had settled back in his chair and splayed his fingers on the felt tabletop.

“Well, now that all depends,” Richard replied slowly, well aware Viscount Huntley had returned to the chair he had occupied earlier. A quick glance in his direction proved he was experiencing as much disbelief as he was.

“On what?” David asked, finally diverting his gaze from Marian to regard the earl with an arched brow. Richard’s attention was on his niece, though, and she tore her gaze from David to stare back at him.

“Indeed, on what?” she asked in dismay.