Chapter 12

"Who knows?" Tate sank to the chair next to Lucas, ignorant of how his port swirled and splashed in his glass. "MissHaven

seemed quite smitten with me when we spoke prior to dinner. This might finally be the night that she realizes she is in love

with me."

Lucas groaned. Tate thrived on romantic spectacles and dramatic displays, and as with any truly memorable house party, everything

about this gathering contributed to an environment ripe for dramatics. He moved his foot to give Tate more room. "I seem to

recall you saying something very similar at the Hammonds' Lady Day Ball earlier this spring. Except the lady in question was

MissErnest, if memory serves."

"No, no. You're mistaken. That was mere flirtation. This... this is altogether different. But before I get ahead of myself,

I must be practical, for I have a rival. Wainbridge has declared his intentions. A part of me fears I've met my match."

"Come now, Tate. That defeatist attitude doesn't sound like you," Lucas bolstered. "Besides, his fortune is compromised, at

least for the time being. MissHaven, lovely as she is, strikes me as one swayed by that particular attribute."

"Look around, Avery! Does our host not appear to possess a fortune?" Tate swung his arm out wide, once again disturbing the amber liquid in his glass. He lowered his voice

and leaned closer. "No one else is aware of his situation. What's more, MissHaven's family estate is not even an hour from

here by carriage. And unless the gossipmongers are about, she undoubtedly considers him a catch. I daresay he'll swoop in,

woo her, and secure an agreement before any truths can be revealed."

"Well then. You'll have to rely on charm alone," Lucas bantered. "But I'd not commit myself, were I you, for what of MissWainbridge?

She was pleased to see you."

"Now she's a pretty girl." Tate rubbed his chin in contemplation. "And I considered her. I even broached the idea with Wainbridge,

out of respect. He is her guardian, you know. But he opposed it."

"On what grounds?"

"I haven't enough money."

Lucas coughed as he nearly choked on his drink. "You? Not enough money?"

"Ridiculous, I know. The issue is that I have wealth but no title, but Whitaker, on the other hand, will inherit both one

day, so he is infinitely preferable."

Lucas looked over to Robert Whitaker, a robust, squat, florid-faced man clad in a crimson officer's coat and engaged in a

bout of raucous laughter with Mr.Fielding. He was likely a decade the lady's senior. "They don't seem to suit."

"Ah, ah, ah." Tate chuckled, tugging at his cravat until it loosened about his neck. "Need I remind you how attractive money is? It's the most enticing trait one can possess, and it blurs a multitude of sins. But enough of me and my woes, eh? Did you enjoy your conversation with Miss Stanley at dinner? She certainly seemed to."

"I did. I've always liked MissStanley. She's a good sort."

"And she gets more handsome every year, does she not? Those entrancing doe eyes of hers?" Tate whistled low. "Stunning. But

you heard about her father, I'm sure."

"I heard he suffered a banking loss."

"Not just any loss, but essentially his entire fortune! It's all rather recent. I just heard of it myself last week. I'm sure

Wainbridge knew nothing about it when the invitations went out. And yet, see how she's conducted herself? As if nothing has

changed. No doubt she's hoping to contain the news as long as possible, but things like that never stay secret for long. And

speaking of secrets, we've yet to comment on that lady next to Fielding at dinner. She was intriguing, no?"

Lucas stiffened at the reference. He supposed it might have been possible that Tate and MissBrannon had encountered each

other at some point, but if they had, Tate clearly didn't remember.

Tate continued, "I'm told she hails from London, but I've never seen her before. If this young woman is with Mrs.Milton,

there must be something compelling about her. Perhaps she's a relative. Maybe an heiress? Merely a companion? Every party

needs a conspiracy of sorts. She must be here to stir curiosity, because otherwise it is just the same people staring at each

other all day."

Lucas raised his brows. "Did you say conspiracy?"

"Yes. But don't you get caught up in it." Tate pointed his forefinger at Lucas. "We need you to be in full concentration. The better you can do your job, the more money Wainbridge will make, and then the more money we all can make."

Lucas clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. "That's what I appreciate most about you, Tate. Your concern for my future

and well-being."

"I'll make you a bargain." Tate ignored the sarcasm and settled back against his chair. "You do this task, and then we'll

throw all our efforts into finding you a wealthy wife. Then you'd not have to rely on me for your business dealings."

"What would you do then?" Lucas gibed.

"I'd manage."

"What's the laughter about here?" Wainbridge approached, his face flushed and his eyes red, a decanter in his hand. "Am I

missing the jest?"

"Hardly." Tate tilted his head, as if about to reveal a great secret. "We are merely attempting to make sense of the fairer

sex. Have you any advice for us?"

Wainbridge extended the decanter toward Tate and refilled his glass. "Advice? No. But I wish you the very best of luck. When

you solve the puzzle, I expect you to share your secrets with me."

"This is quite a gathering." Lucas lifted his glass, shifting the conversation. "You must be proud to show off Cloverton Hall

at last."

Wainbridge's expression darkened. "It's magnificent. But you know the truth of it. It is hard to celebrate it when it feels

more like a noose than a distinction."

"Well, that's why we're here. In fact, I've already seen many pieces that'll do well for you. Take that decanter in your hand. It's at least a century old. I'd very much prefer it if you set it down instead of waving it around like you are."

Wainbridge snorted. "You can have it and every other dusty relic around here if it will bring in money. Tomorrow I'll show

you the study and the library, and you have my permission to go anywhere in the house you like. Just be discreet. My aunt

would be furious if she knew what we were up to. That woman is destined to be a thorn in my side, but let's not talk of her

anymore. She already influences too many of my thoughts. But for tonight, we make merry."

It would be nice to relax, to truly partake in the festivities, but his father's words echoed in his mind. "No one will trust a man who loses controls of his senses. It takes but one mishap to abolish trust, and once gone, it's nearly

impossible to restore."

Lucas was not here to be pampered and entertained. His responsibilities were very specific and finite, and as such his behavior

had to be different. He'd need to be master of every skill he possessed, for his entire financial future was riding on his

ability to truly earn Wainbridge's trust and oversee any transactions related to the Cloverton estate.

MissBrannon flashed in his mind... again. Her presence here was the one potential stumbling block. He needed to know what

he was up against—the sooner, the better.