A False Proposal Read online

  Hugh got to his feet and raised his voice a notch. “Think what you like, but you owe it to him to find out what he wants. He is your father, after all.” He bit out the words.

  Much to my everlasting regret. “I owe him nothing,” Adam said, “nor you.” He stepped closer to his brother and with satisfaction noted they were now of equal height. “The two of you make me sick. You can tell Father I won’t be coming.”

  Hugh lowered his voice and seemed to be making an effort to rein in his temper. “Be reasonable, Adam. I know you have your differences, but he’s getting on in years. What harm can it do you to pay him a visit and find out what he wants?”

  Adam should insist the old man visit him in London. But, no, that would never do. The last thing he needed was his father here, carrying on with his usual antics, as Adam was about to launch a political career. And his mother would be furious. No, it was out of the question.

  Adam quickly reviewed his calendar for the week. There was to be a dinner party at his mother’s townhome a few days hence, where he intended to announce that he wished to stand for Commons. He’d arranged a private meeting with Jack Linford at White’s tomorrow, to ask his friend to support him in his bid for one of the seats in the borough of Haslemere, in Surrey, where both families maintained country homes. Adam’s father, in fact, lived there year round. It would do no harm for him to ride down and test the waters, see what his parent knew about the political climate, if anything. By all accounts, one of the current MPs was a drunk who rarely attended the sessions. He was sponsored by the other titled lord of the borough, Sir William Broxton, a baronet. Could be trouble there if Adam couldn’t persuade him he needed a new man. Jack would know more, and so might his father.

  “Haven’t got all night, brother. What’s your answer to be?”

  Reluctantly, Adam said, “I’ll do it, but I have things to attend to here before I can leave.”

  “I’ll get word to Father.”

  “No,” Adam insisted. “I prefer you leave that to me, since I don’t yet know when I can get away.”

  “As you wish.”

  “How long do you plan to remain in town?”

  “A few weeks at a time, with trips home in between. No idea how long it will take to find a bit of muslin…er, bride.”

  “So I shall see you at Longmere?” Adam asked.

  “Possibly.”

  Adam carried the candle back to the sideboard and snuffed it. He opened the door to the corridor and, after ensuring it was empty, said, “Until then.”

  Hugh strolled toward him. “Oh, you shall see me long before that. Deborah told me of your political aspirations. She invited me to the dinner she’s giving in your honor. I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

  Adam cringed. If he weren’t so fond of his mother…well, what he might do to her didn’t bear thinking about.

  Chapter Five

  Adam’s mother, Deborah Grey, waltzed into the breakfast room wearing a royal blue morning dress of merino wool. Although she had recently celebrated her fiftieth year, she was still beautiful. Adam threw down the copy of the Times he’d been perusing and rose.

  “Good morning, dear,” she said, kissing her son’s cheek.

  “Mother,” he said, inclining his head. “Did you sleep well?” He poured her a cup of chocolate while a footman filled her plate with bacon, ham, eggs, and toast. Which she wouldn’t eat one-quarter of.

  “Oh, I was up half the night reading Sense and Sensibility, worrying about those Dashwood girls. And then when I knew I simply must get some rest, there was nothing for it but to drink a glass of sherry. That made me sleepy.” She smiled charmingly at her son.

  He broached the topic he knew would be awkward for them both. “I ran into Hugh at the Mainwaring ball last night. What a shock that was.” He shot Deborah a sardonic glance.

  Her finely arched brows knitted. “I am sorry, Adam. I wanted to tell you he was in town, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it.”

  “At least he’s not staying here,” Adam said. When his mother, innocently sipping her chocolate, didn’t answer, he rattled his newspaper and said, “Mother?” using his most ominous tone of voice.

  “What? Oh, no, dear. He’s taken lodgings. You know I would never ask him to stay with us.”

  “But you did invite him to the dinner tomorrow night. Without checking with me first.”

  Deborah winced, sputtering a bit over her chocolate. “He is my son too, darling! And he wishes to be wed. I can’t help feeling that a wife might help him to control some of his…baser impulses.”

  “Just so. On the other hand, he could quickly bring his wife to ruin by subjecting her to the sort of thing you ran away from.”

  Deborah hung her head, and Adam immediately felt guilty about throwing that in her face. He knelt by her chair and put his arms around her. “There, there, Mother. Forgive me. It’s only that I cannot conceive of Hugh with a bride. I see only a life of misery for the poor girl.”

  Now his mother was crying, dash it all. Little sobs escaped her lips, and it was entirely his fault. “Don’t cry, Mother. You’re not to blame, after all.”

  “I should have stayed.” Gulp. “I could have provided a stabilizing influence.” Gulp. Hiccup. “But your father—”

  “Do not reproach yourself, Mother. You couldn’t have saved Hugh from taking up Father’s ways. God knows, I’m grateful you had the wits—and money—to escape.”

  Gradually Deborah’s sobs tapered off, and she dabbed at her eyes with a serviette. Adam returned to his chair and poured himself more coffee. “Father wants to see me. Did you know?”

  “Certainly not!”

  “Don’t fuss, Mother. I didn’t think you did.” Adam related the gist of his conversation with Hugh. “Care to hazard a guess?”

  “I haven’t spoken with your father in ten years, Adam. I’m afraid I can provide no enlightenment. But a word to the wise. Don’t be so foolish as to trust him. Whatever he wants will be in the guise of your best interests, but I’ve never known him to have anyone’s best interests at heart other than his own.”

  “Does he have a heart, then?” Adam lifted a corner of his mouth. “I’ve never been sure.”

  Deborah’s expression was pained. “A very black one, I’m afraid.”

  Adam took up his newspaper while his mother nibbled at her eggs and toast. “When is your meeting with Lord Linford?” Deborah asked between bites.

  “This afternoon. You did send round the dinner party invitations?”

  “Of course, dear. And we must decide whom to invite to the house party, as well.”

  Adam frowned. “House party?” What is she up to now?

  “I know we discussed it. A house party in Surrey would be quite the thing to…to become better acquainted with certain ladies. And you will need to have a presence in Haslemere, in any case.”

  “‘Better acquainted with certain ladies’? Really, Mother, even you can do better than that.”

  She raised a hand, placating him. “Never mind. We’ll discuss it later. Allow me to tell you who will attend the dinner.” When Adam nodded, she reeled off the list. “Viscount Linford, Cassandra, and their cousin, Miss Ashman. Linford’s fiancée, Jenny, and her parents. Elizabeth Morgan and her mother. And Hugh, of course.”

  She cut him a sly look. “Hugh seeking a bride reminds me, Adam, it would do you no harm to think about taking a wife. Political men need hostesses, you know.”

  He shrugged. “They do. But they don’t have to be married to them.”

  “That’s why I invited that lovely Elizabeth Morgan to the party. Now, there’s a beauty for you!”

  Somehow Adam had missed the name in his mother’s recitation of the guests. “You invited that child? I danced with her last night at the Mainwaring’s ball. She has little wit and less conversation.”

  “Well, she’s being touted as this season’s Incomparable. You should pay attention.”

  “She’s eighteen! Maybe younger.”
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  “I heard you danced with Lady Leonora, too, and so I took the liberty of inviting her as well.”

  “You heard wrong, Mother. I did not dance with her. I cannot abide that woman.”

  “Oh, come now, Adam. She’s quite stunning and wealthy besides. Politics requires money, you know. And that’s the other reason we need to carefully consider whom to invite to the house party.”

  Adam sighed. Perhaps his wish to stand for Parliament was misplaced. If he had to curry favors from the likes of Leonora, he didn’t want any part of it. After he’d secured Jack’s support, though, he was quite sure he could handle any unexpected expenses. He’d rather not have to ask his friend for money, but he’d no idea of what a campaign cost.

  “My, my, the gossips have been busy, haven’t they?” he said. “Since the ball was last night, how could you possibly know whom I danced with already?”

  “Darling, you know the servants have their own network. Lucy told me everything while dressing me this morning.”

  “Did she neglect to mention Cass Linford? I did dance with her.” Adam debated whether to ask his mother about Cassie’s broken engagement. He’d rather get the truth from Deborah than press Jack for it. Before broaching the subject, he sipped his coffee and cleared his throat.

  “I wonder, Mother, if you’re familiar…if you know why Cass never married? I believe she was once engaged.”

  “Why, yes, of course. Everyone knows.”

  Everyone but me. Adam waited, gritting his teeth but determined to remain silent until his mother decided to elaborate.

  “I suppose you were out of the country when it all happened. Such a dreadful thing. Only think of the agonies that poor, dear girl suffered. Remember when you were children and—”

  Adam’s temper flared. “Mother!”

  “Oh, sorry. Yes, well, her fiancé killed himself. Right in front of God and everybody. It was at Drury Lane. I believe Othello was on the bill. Cassandra and Lord Bentley, you knew him, didn’t you? They were strolling during the interval, and he suddenly drew a pistol. I didn’t see it, but those who did said he brandished the weapon at Cassandra, as though he meant to shoot her, then turned the gun on himself.”

  “So there were actual witnesses?”

  “Well, now that you ask, I’m not certain, but that was part of the story that circulated.”

  Christ. “He might have killed her!” Adam moderated his voice before going on. It wouldn’t do to have his mother thinking he was overly concerned about Cass. “When did this happen? And why did he do it, for God’s sake?”

  “Let me think. It happened during her second, maybe her third, season. A few years ago, now. I believe it was shortly before you sold your commission and began your sojourn on the Continent.” She lifted a brow. “The Earl of Wilton, Bentley’s father, gave it out that he’d changed his mind about marrying, that Cassandra was somehow to blame, but everyone knew the truth.”

  “Which was?” Why did he have to pry everything out of her?

  “He had vowels out all over town. In Dun territory so deep, he could never get out. They say he was addicted to faro and hazard.”

  Adam tried to summon up an image of Lord Bentley, but they’d never really been friends, merely acquaintances. The other man had been titled and several years his senior, and they’d never done more than run into each other around town now and again. During his wild days, when he and Jack had frequented one gaming hell or another, he recalled seeing Bentley in some of those establishments. He couldn’t imagine a union between him and Cass.

  “I don’t think Cassandra left Linford House for two years, except to travel to Haslemere. It was said she preferred rusticating there, but her brother finally forced her to return to town and to society. In hopes of a marriage for her, you see.”

  “I’d no idea,” Adam said thoughtfully. He cringed when he thought about the cruel way he’d taunted her about her single state. Christ, if he’d only known. Had she loved the man? What pain she must have endured. And what a prize fool he was. He’d meant to apologize last night, but after Hugh made his appearance, he’d forgotten all about it.

  He would beg her forgiveness the next time he saw her.

  …

  Adam drove his curricle to White’s, on St. James Street, and found Jack seated at a table not far from the bay windows, personal domain of Beau Brummell. He wasn’t present today; nevertheless, no one else dared sit there in case the man himself arrived. Adam found it annoying, rather than amusing, as some did.

  The two men shook hands and Jack signaled a waiter. After ordering wine, Adam said, “You must be wondering why I requested this meeting.”

  “I admit you’ve sparked my curiosity. Although after what you said when you drank tea with us, or maybe I should say, after what Cass pried out of you, I would wager it has something to do with a seat in Commons.”

  “You would be correct.” Adam scrutinized his friend, trying to gauge his expression. He wanted to be taken seriously. If Jack felt the same as Cass, his bid would be finished before it began. “I want the other seat in Haslemere. I don’t think I can manage it without a show of your support with the electors.”

  Jack gave him a wry grin. “What electors?”

  Adam grimaced. “That bad, is it?”

  “The freeholders exercise their franchise privilege, but as you well know, the Haslemere members are elected by the grace of Sir William Broxton and myself. They’re influence seats. Have been since Queen Elizabeth’s time.”

  Adam flung out his arms. “Which is precisely why we need reform!”

  “Don’t rip up at me,” his friend said, showing Adam the palms of his hands. “I agree. I simply don’t want to be bothered to bring it about. That’s why we need men like you in Commons.”

  “You intend to support Halliwell again?” Adam asked. He thought this was the case, but needed to be certain.

  “Afraid so, old man. He’s smart, works hard, and pays attention to the good citizens of Haslemere. To the extent that he can.” He paused a moment. “What do you know of Sir William’s current man?”

  Adam barked a caustic laugh. “Not much. I’ve heard he’s doddering, in his cups much of the time, and an absentee Member for the most part. I think he is a relation of Sir William. It’s my hope the old boy is ready for retirement, but of course I’ll need to persuade Broxton to support me.”

  “Isn’t he a friend of your father’s? Speaking of whom…does he know of your plans yet?”

  Adam took a long swallow of brandy before answering. “Their friendship is a longstanding one, but I don’t know if that’s still the case. And no, my father does not know anything about my plans.”

  “What do you think his reaction will be?”

  “I’ve not seen him in many years. I imagine he has little or no interest in politics, and I’m quite sure he’s badly neglected his tenants. That won’t sit well with town folk. What little authority he may once have exercised can no longer be counted on.”

  “Well, somehow you’ll have to convince the Baronet you’re the man for the job.”

  “Your family wields the power and influence. If Broxton knows I have your support, that would be a strong inducement for him to let me be the one to replace his current man. Would you be willing to write to him on my behalf?”

  “Of course. I’ll do so immediately. By the way, did Hugh’s sudden appearance at the ball have anything to do with your political ambitions?”

  Confiding in his friend wouldn’t matter, he supposed. “None at all. It seems my brother desires a leg shackle. My father’s idea, apparently.”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “Worries me,” Adam said. “As you know, he’s very much the same man as my father. But there’s more. He says Father wants to see me. Hugh claims he doesn’t know why.”

  Jack nodded. “Before I lend you my support, I suppose I should ask where your politics lie. Here we sit in a stronghold of Tory ideals. You’re a member here, as am I.”


  “In the spirit of honesty and truthfulness between us…I fall into the liberal Tory camp. Since the Tories hold the power at present, I thought it politic to put my name forward for White’s. You and I both know the old place is more a gambling den than anything else.” As Adam spoke, his gaze roved around the room. A few solitary men sat reading papers; others socialized in small groups. But it was no secret that the majority of those who frequented White’s could usually be found in the rooms dedicated to hazard, whist, and faro.

  Jack quizzed him. “We’ve already established you’re for reform. What about Catholic emancipation?”

  “I favor both, but they’ll be a long time coming, in my opinion. First and foremost, I’d like to see an end to the damned war. It’s been going on far too long, draining the Treasury and killing so many of our young men. We’ll never get anything accomplished here at home until it’s over.”

  “I’m with you on that,” Jack said.

  Adam carried on. “And we need to revise the Poor Laws, to make things a bit easier for people living at subsistence level.”

  “Good man. I agree with you on all those issues.” Jack dropped his gaze momentarily, and when he looked up, Adam could tell that he was trying to prevent a smile from slipping out. “And what about women’s rights? Cass will want to know your stand on that.”

  “Of course I support women in their bid for autonomy and education. You can tell your sister that.”

  “What’s come between you two?” Jack asked, frowning. “I would haul you over the coals for being downright rude to her the other day, if she hadn’t been the same to you.”

  “I didn’t mean…I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was ill-mannered of me. I’ve always been fond of Cassie. I still am. But sometimes she provokes me.” He thought of how she’d provoked him at the ball. To the point he’d found her practically irresistible.

  Jack guffawed. “As her brother, I quite understand. Say no more.”

  He didn’t understand, in fact, but Adam wouldn’t disabuse him of the notion. “We made our peace with each other at the ball last night,” he said, not looking Jack in the eye.