A Little Bit Sinful. Adrienne Basso
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you remembered,” the earl remarked as he swirled the generous portion of amber liquid in the glass Bianca handed him.
“I have an excellent memory,” Eleanor said, wishing she had the nerve to ask for a drink for herself. She rarely drank spirits, except for an occasional glass of wine with dinner. Yet she had a sinking feeling that this afternoon she was in need of a dose of false courage.
“Memory is a most unappealing trait,” the earl said as he sat down. “Especially in a woman of your years, Eleanor.” Raising the glass to his mouth, the earl downed the contents in a single swallow.
“You haven’t journeyed all this way for a drink,” Eleanor snapped, angry at the sting of hurt his words produced. Despite her best efforts, he still possessed the power to wound her. “Is there something specific you wanted?”
“I have come to take Bianca to Town,” the earl announced. “‘Tis high time she was properly presented to society.”
Bianca gasped with delight, clasping her hands together in glee. “London? Truly?”
Eleanor frowned in puzzlement. “The Season has already begun.”
“No matter,” the earl replied. “Things always start off slowly. All the truly important balls and soirees are yet to come.”
“It will take weeks to get ready,” Eleanor said. “Bianca needs clothes, as well as instruction in deportment, etiquette, and dancing.”
The earl waved his hand dismissively. “She needs only a single outfit to travel to London. We shall commission a wardrobe once we reach Town. As for the rest of it, I assume that you have taught her proper behavior. Are you now saying that you have neglected her all these years?”
Eleanor bristled at the unfair criticism. “I have done my best, given my limited knowledge. You might recall my time in society was rather limited.” The earl favored her with a wry glare as if he needed no reminder of it. Eleanor felt herself start to shrink into her seat. John Tanner had left the estate two weeks before she went to London to embark on her disastrous Season. Heartbroken, she had gone through the motions, not caring that her plain looks and subdued personality had rendered her nearly invisible.
With a shake of her head, Eleanor pulled herself upright. She refused to apologize for the past.
“Fortunately, Bianca possesses both beauty and wit,” the earl said. “She will be a smashing success, I am certain.”
What was this all about? Apprehension churned in Eleanor’s stomach, along with a healthy dose of fear. If their father’s honest intention was to introduce Bianca into society, why had he waited so long to let them know of his plans? Why had they not been given time to prepare? Even under the best of circumstances, it would be difficult for the provincial Bianca to make a success of it.
“I am sure Bianca will enchant everyone,” Eleanor said cautiously. “Though her success would be guaranteed if she were allowed the proper time to prepare. Why not present her next Season?”
“And miss out on this year’s splendid crop of eligible bachelors?” The earl walked to the sideboard, poured himself another generous dose of brandy, then sat on an upholstered chair. “No, I’ve made up my mind. She will go now.”
Eleanor felt another jolt of fear. The reason for the earl’s haste was clear—he wanted, nay, he needed, to find a husband for his youngest daughter. As soon as possible.
That must mean his finances were in worse shape than usual. Eleanor was well aware of the two outstanding mortgages on the estate, the back pay owed to many of the servants, the accounts to various merchants that went unpaid. Normally the earl juggled his funds in such a way that each was paid just enough to keep the more aggressive creditors at bay.
Something must have changed. Eleanor wished she had the nerve to ask him what had happened. Yet even knowing why the need for funds so suddenly arose would not alter the earl’s plans.
He was going to arrange a marriage for Bianca to whomever he could make the best deal with, the deal that most benefited himself. He most certainly would not allow anything as petty as his daughter’s personal feelings toward her future husband to deter his decision.
Poor Bianca. A chill feeling of dread crawled up Eleanor’s spine. Bianca’s sweet innocence was no match for the manipulating earl. Eleanor turned toward her sister and the dread escalated. Bianca was smiling with delight, completely unaware of her fate.
“We shall have the best time,” Bianca exclaimed. “Aren’t you excited, Eleanor? It’s been many years since you’ve been to Town.”
“Eleanor?” The earl turned a disparaging eye upon his oldest daughter. “Bianca, I have come to bring you to Town, not your sister.”
“Not Eleanor?” Bianca’s face crumbled with disappointment. “Why won’t she be coming with us?”
“She is not needed,” the earl said dismissively.
Eleanor bit the inside of her lip, trying to remain as outwardly serene as possible. The earl did not engage in arguments with his daughters. He dictated and they obeyed. Yet with the proper approach, he could be persuaded.
“But of course Eleanor must come,” Bianca declared, her voice shaking with emotion. “I shall be lost without her. Please, Papa?”
The earl briefly glanced at Eleanor. She forced herself to lift her head and stare at his stiff shoulders, refusing to be reduced to an insignificant afterthought. Bianca needed her and therefore Eleanor wanted very badly to go to London. But she would not beg.
Yet with each passing moment of silence, her fear heightened. What would become of her sweet sister if she were not there to oversee things? What manner of man would the earl choose for his youngest daughter? Eleanor shuddered. She had no confidence in their father’s judgment or motivation.
“If you bring me, I can serve as both companion and chaperone,” Eleanor said quietly.
“Please say yes, Papa,” Bianca implored, hurrying across the room. She sank gracefully to her knees in front of the earl’s chair. “I cannot manage without her.”
Though it pained her to watch her sister subjugate herself in such a manner, Eleanor kept silent. Finally the earl raised one eyebrow and leveled a haughty, disapproving look at his eldest daughter.
“If it pleases you, Bianca, then of course your sister may come along,” he declared in a cool, languid voice. “Provided she makes herself useful.”
Peter Dawson’s fingers moved with elegant ease as he deftly shuffled the deck, then cheerfully dealt the cards. Sebastian, seated across from his friend, disciplined himself to appear calm and relaxed. After all, this was merely a friendly game of cards among gentlemen. Suspicions would surely arise if he appeared too anxious or agitated.
The Duke of Warren’s ballroom was crowded and stuffy, making the card room a haven for the gentlemen needing a respite from the dancing and conversation. There were five of them seated around the table, but only one man truly interested Sebastian—the Earl of Hetfield. His prey.
It had taken Sebastian two weeks of careful planning to reach this point. He had returned to Town a few days after his grandmother’s funeral bent on revenge, only to discover the earl was not in Town. Frustrated, Sebastian had spent his days waiting anxiously for the earl to return, honing his already impressive sword skills and perfecting his keen shot.
Then finally some good news. The earl had returned to Town four days ago. Assuming he would soon be out in society, Sebastian had visited three different events tonight in search of him. It was somewhat of a surprise to locate Hetfield at the duke’s party, for it was far and above the most respectable entertainment of the night.
“Cards, gentlemen?” Dawson asked.
Sir Charles declined, Lord Faber took one. The earl took two, then drew on the stub of a cheroot. He looked younger than Sebastian had imagined, and to be fair, far less