Chapter Three

 

“Dear God, my life is defunct. I have gone blind.” Holden Bradshaw, son and heir of the Baron of Blightsworth, groaned as he grasped his head in his hands to ease the pounding. Perhaps the rumors were true; the Almighty had finally seen fit to take away his sight as penance for his many years of carousing and debauchery.

Pushing back the heavy mop of dark hair from his face, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he groaned against the brightness of the light that streamed through the window, causing the pounding in his head to intensify tenfold.

He clamped his eyes shut once again as his mind went back to the night before. He had attended a gathering at the home of Mr. David Banner, his closest friend and confidante, which quickly turned into a night of gambling and heavy drinking. It appeared, if his empty pockets could be any indication, that Holden had done poorly in the former, but the pain in his head said he had done well in the latter. He gripped his head once more. Perhaps too well at that.

From what Holden could remember, David had invited a woman of questionable morals and reputation, and Holden, not wishing to be left out, spent a goodly amount of time speaking to her. Luckily, she had her eyes set on David and not on Holden, which may have saved him from waking with the woman sharing his bed this morning.

At least he had made it to his bed.

A rap on the door sent a jolt of pain through his temples. “Enter!”

The door opened, and the family butler, Carson, entered. A large man for a butler, he possessed a stomach that tested the limits of the fabric and buttons on his livery. “Your father has sent me to remind you of the meeting you were to attend today in his study.”

Holden moaned as he sat up in bed. “Meeting?” he mumbled. Then he recalled his father requesting to speak with him today. “That is not to start until noon.”

“Begging your pardon, but noon was an hour ago,” Carson intoned. “What shall I tell your father?”

“I will be there momentarily,” Holden replied, annoyed at the man’s clear contempt for him. How dare he act as if he could be contemptuous of the future Baron of Blightsworth!

The butler bowed and left the room, closing the door with a loud bang behind him. Of course he would do that, the despicable oaf!

Upon standing, Holden wobbled on weak legs. His throat was parched and his stomach rumbled—at least it was from hunger and not the urge to sick up—but he would wait to eat after speaking to his father. He could not afford to anger the man more than he likely was already.

As he dressed, Holden thought of the many meetings his father held with him. Most were to chastise Holden for the decisions he made in life, ending with Holden promising to mend his ways and walk on the straight and narrow.

He splashed cold water on his face from the wash basin, which help to wake him but did nothing to ease the battering inside his skull.

Once he had stomped into his second boot, he left his room and walked down the hallway of Ramada Estate, the home over which he would one day reign. Although it was not as large as many homes of the ton, the decor reflected that its occupants spared no expense. Oriental rugs lay on the floors of various rooms, paintings his father collected during his military days adorned the walls, and the finest porcelain graced the mahogany tables, even in the corridor down which he currently walked.

Once at the wide staircase that led to the main floor, Holden paused to close his eyes. Each step caused the pain in his head to worsen, and by the time he reached the bottom step, he had to grip the banister to keep from falling from dizziness. His father’s office was not ten paces from where he stood, but even thought of taking those steps felt like an eternity of agony. Yet he had little choice but to make the journey, as short as it was, and he pressed forward.

The door to the study was open and his father looked up from his chair behind a massive oak desk that took up a good portion of the room. The man was fifty years of age with a head full of silver hair and a stern frown that never seemed to leave his face. His military background made him far stricter than anyone Holden had ever known. David certainly had not been forced to endure the stringent upbringing Holden had.

He almost chuckled. What good had that done him? Once he was old enough to choose his own life, he had moved as far away from his upbringing as he could.

“I see my son has chosen to rise before sunset,” his father said, his voice tinged with annoyance. “Thank you for gracing me with your presence today, even if it was not at our appointed time.”

“My apologies, Father,” Holden said, closing the door behind him. “I was up late last night going over numbers in my head.”

His father snorted at the outright lie as he rose from his chair to come around and lean against the front of the desk. “And what numbers would you be considering that would keep you awake so late?”

Holden grasped the first thing that came to mind. How could he not have had an excuse in place before he arrived? It was not as if these conversations with his father were uncommon. “David inquired about the possibility of doing business with me.”

His father’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? And what type of business would that be?”

“Sheep. Many sheep.”

His father smiled and motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk. It was clear by the look on his face that he believed not a word of Holden’s lie. “Sit.”

Holden did as his father bade and looked at the man as he leaned against the desk.

“I realize the sheep business is not one you…”

His father raised a hand, and Holden bit back the remainder of his words. “Lord Banner no longer deals in sheep,” he said with a sigh. “Nor does his son. They lost a large amount of money in the wool trade years ago, and Banner has refused to engage in the business since. But you would know that if you simply paid attention to what is going on around you.”

Damn, David thought. How could he have not known this? Aloud he said, “David tricked me, then. Thank you for your wisdom, Father. I shall be wary of him in the future.”

Rather than placating his father as his words had done in the past, they infuriated the man to the point that he leaned over and grasped Holden by the lapels of his coat, pulling him from the chair. “You have made a fool of me long enough,” he hissed. “Now, you will listen to me and heed my words!”

Holden stared wide-eyed at his father as he lowered himself back into the chair. The man had berated him often in the past, even threatened to disown him, but never had he used violence to make his point.

In the past, they had been quite close. In fact, Holden had once thought him a friend as well as his father. However, when Holden’s mother died five years earlier, his father had become the sullen and angry man before him now.

With a calming breath, Holden said, “I am listening.”

“Good,” his father barked. “For far too long I have given you rein to make your own decisions. However, the late nights of gaming and drinking have become all too common.”

Holden went to speak, to defend his actions, but his father gave him a harsh look that caused Holden to hold his tongue.

“Men are welcome to partake in such things, but only when they have completed what is expected of them. Does your friend David not enjoy a game of chance and hunting?”

“He does,” Holden replied. “I join him in such activities, as well.”

His father snorted again. “I am well aware that you do. Unlike you, however, David works very hard to grow his father’s estate. He focuses a large portion of his time on his work, so he is able to enjoy the more recreational pursuits later. When he finds a worthy bride, he will provide her with the life every lady deserves, and she will stand at his side with pride because of it. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Holden considered what his father had said—thinking was difficult in his delicate condition—and smiled. “I do understand. When David marries, I am to speak positively about him in the presence of his wife so she knows he is a worthy husband.”

“You imbecile!” his father shouted, and Holden shrank back into his chair. “No! I do not care about him or his wife; I care about you. The games of chance, the hunting excursions, the womanizing, all of it will stop from this moment on until you find a worthy bride!”

This broke away any lingering fog in Holden’s brain. “A bride?” he asked in astonishment. “You want me to marry?”

“Indeed. You will not remain unmarried for much longer. In nine days, we will host a party. However, you will not spend the night speaking with your friends as you are wont to do. Instead, I will be watching to see that you introduce yourself to every eligible woman who attends, and you will request permission to call on them. Every single one of them.”

Holden slunk deeper into his seat. “Should I also ask the maids?” he murmured.

“What was that?” his father asked with a glare.

“Nothing, Father,” Holden replied.

He was not yet ready for marriage. Or to be a suitor or to court for that matter. There were too many parties to attend, and the London season was not far off. “Perhaps I should…” Holden paused. No argument would get him out of this situation, not when his father was this set in his decision. What he had meant to say was that he should wait until the season began, where he could find the right woman at the many balls and parties given. Yet the words would do him no good, so he changed what he meant to say. “…find a worthy woman at the party,” he finished in a resigned tone he could not hide.

“Indeed you will,” his father said. “I have already informed Lord Thrup. His daughter Caroline will be in attendance.”

“Caroline Thrup?” Holden asked in horror. “The woman is a gossip like her mother. She is boring and apparently spends the majority of her days doing embroidery.”

His father glared at him once again. “She is without a gentleman and you are without a lady. However, worry not, for if you ask to call on all the eligible ladies who attend, you will have options from which to choose, is that not so? You should be glad I am not arranging a marriage for you.”

Holden stifled a sigh. “Yes, Father,” he muttered.

He looked down at the floor as shame overwhelmed him. How often had he disappointed his father over the years? Even when he was not engaged in sordid activities, his father saw nothing but what Holden did wrong, which was why he chose to enjoy his life. “I am sorry to have let you down again.”

“Then show me how to behave like the gentleman you are,” his father said. “And not the fool you have become.” He gave Holden a dismissive wave, and Holden dragged himself from the chair.

Closing the door to the study behind him, he let out a sigh. He would do as his father bade, but the man had to have been exaggerating about asking every woman at the party. Therefore, he would ask a handful if he could send a card. Perhaps if he did call on several over the next few weeks, his father would be appeased and allow Holden to do what he loved—to enjoy himself in guilty pleasures as a man should.

***

The following day, with a head much clearer, Holden completed an order for a new coat at the most prestigious tailor in Rumsbury. The shop was his favorite because every story he told, including the tale he was telling at the moment, was met with admiration and awe.

“Of course, as always in such matters, I told the lady I could not marry her no matter how large her dowry was,” Holden said, to which the tailor, Mr. Matthews, nodded in appreciation. “A woman must be a companion to whom a man can confide.” He chuckled. “Not that any gentleman should seek advice from the weaker sex, of course, but rather as a person he can trust with whatever secrets he may hold.”

“You are quite right as always, my lord,” Mr. Matthews said in his nasally tone. “As for your new coat, I can have it delivered by next Wednesday.”

“So soon?” Holden asked in surprise.

“But of course, my lord. For you, I will see it receives the utmost attention.” He placed the measuring tape back in its box. “Will there be anything else with which I can assist you?”

“No, I believe that will be all. Thank you.”

Holden left the shop, light of step and ready to face the world. He glanced around the village square. In one week, he would be hosting a party, in which he would be forced to find a woman of whom his father would approve. One thing was certain; that woman had to be someone other than Miss Thrup. Spending even the shortest amount of time with her in the past had proven to be quite disagreeable. So much so that he could not imagine spending his remaining years with the woman. No, his father would not pressure him into marrying any woman, but especially not one the likes of Miss Thrup.

The last thing Holden wanted to do was give up all the activities he enjoyed. Gambling, hunting, drinking, these were what held his attention. Of course, women did, as well. The thought made him chuckle; none of the women with whom he spent his time would be acceptable to his father. Marriage was for the weak-minded, and if he desired a kiss or other forms of affection from a woman, he preferred to find one without the hassle of marriage.

The door to the dressmaker’s shop next door opened, and Holden almost groaned as Miss Caroline Thrup exited. The woman wore a yellow dress with matching ribbons on her hat, but none of that kept his attention. Behind her was another woman, one of great beauty, in a blue dress with a modest neckline and few frills. Dark hair showed beneath a fashionable hat, and even from this distance he could make out crystal blue eyes when her gaze met his.

“Mr. Bradshaw,” Miss Thrup said in that singsong voice that grated his nerves.

Holden pretended not to hear her as he turned in the opposite direction. He might find the woman’s companion interesting, but Miss Thrup was annoying enough to wish he could be far, far away.

Unfortunately, Miss Thrup was not about to allow him to leave without speaking to her. He could hear the clicking of her boots on the footpath before she tapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Bradshaw?”

He could no longer act as if he did not hear her addressing him, so he stopped and turned to offer the women his best smile. “Forgive me,” he said with a bow. “I am afraid my mind was on business, as it always seems to be these days.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Miss Thrup, it has been far too long since we last spoke.”

“At least a year,” the woman replied. She then turned to her companion. “Mr. Bradshaw, may I introduce a dear family friend, Miss Rose Skylark.”

“A pleasure,” Miss Skylark said. Her voice was as melodious as the bird for which she was named.

At least this encounter will not be a complete waste of time, he thought. “Miss Skylark, the pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, earning him the boon of seeing her blush. Then an idea occurred to him, and he returned his attention to Miss Thrup. “I am pleased we met, for I was going to send an invitation. Yet, here you are before me. How fortuitous! You see, I will be hosting a party at Ramada Estate and I wonder if you would like to attend.”

As expected, Miss Thrup beamed. “I would be honored to attend, but I am currently staying at Scarlett Hall as companion to Rose. I could not possibly attend while my friend is left behind.”

“Scarlett Hall?” Holden asked, turning to Miss Skylark. “A very fine home, indeed. Please, send Lady Lambert my best wishes.”

“I will,” Miss Skylark replied, her cheeks turning a delectable shade of pink.

Holden glanced up at the sky. Had the sun become brighter suddenly? He felt flushed and desperately desired a glass of water. “Then both of you are invited. I most certainly would like to learn more about you, Miss Skylark.” He noticed the scowl on Miss Thrup’s face, so he quickly added, “And to speak of old times with you, of course, Miss Thrup. As a matter of fact, a friend of mine mentioned you just last week. He had nothing but high praises for you.”

“For me?” Miss Thrup asked, excitement ringing in her tone. “May I ask who?”

Holden smiled. “We shall talk about it at the party. I will send the invitations today to Scarlett Hall. I hope you will both attend.”

Although both women nodded, only Miss Skylark’s attendance mattered to Holden. A woman as beautiful as she would not only please his father but make his friends jealous, as well. They would be wishing they had met her first, and judging by her innocent smile, she would be easy prey for garnering a kiss if he so desired. It did not matter if she refused, for he would brag of conquering her even if he did not. Who would question him, especially when the woman was an unknown?

“I look forward to your attendance,” he said with a bow. “Please, forgive me for rushing away, but I am finalizing the purchase of a new home in London.”

This made the women grin. Was that envy he saw etched in their features? Good.

With that, he walked away. Perhaps his father’s idea of speaking to every woman was not so bad after all. Had this encounter not gone quite well? As a matter of fact, the more he dwelt on the idea of seeing Miss Skylark again, the more it appealed to him. The woman would be a wonderful conquest indeed.