“They say that the Duchess of Westminster will be hosting a ball in just a few weeks’ time,” Aunt Josephine said, as though continuing with the conversation she and his mother had been having. “You know that will be the social event of the season.”
“Autumn isn’t a very interesting season, though, is it,” Joseph’s mother replied. “The true season does not start for many months still.”
“Yes, but one must entertain oneself wherever possible,” Aunt Josephine argued. “I believe the Duchess of Westminster knows that, which is why she is planning this ball at such an unusual time of year.”
“Well, from what I understand, the poor thing must host events such as this whenever she can,” his mother said, then went on to whisper, “She has spent so much time in confinement since marrying Westminster.”
The two women laughed, the light of scandal in their eyes.
“And that after His Grace already has eleven children from his first marriage,” Aunt Josephine whispered. “Some of whom are older than the current duchess. It would be a horrific scandal, were the Duke of Westminster not one of the wealthiest men in England.”
“I hear tell that he is the wealthiest man in England,” Joseph’s mother said. “He made his fortune in land development, you see. A very profitable enterprise indeed.”
Joseph had heard enough. He had no interest in listening to his elders gossip. He had no interest in who was the wealthiest man in England either. The only thing that interested him was bringing Montrose down and proving himself worthy in the process.
He threw down his serviette and stood, nudging back his chair. “If you will excuse me, Mama, Aunt Josephine. I have business to attend to this morning.”
Both women blinked at him.
“Business?” Aunt Josephine asked.
“What business could you possibly have, dear?” His mother frowned.
Joseph tried not to take the innocent question as a slight. “I am not a child, Mama,” he said. “Nor am I one of those idle young noblemen who fills his day with nothing but sport and spending time at his club. I have ambition, ideas.”
“Yes, of course you do, darling,” his mother said, smiling at him. “Go along and engage in your enterprises, then.”
It took all of Joseph’s patience not to bristle outwardly at his mother’s patronization. He bowed to her and to his aunt, then turned and left the room. As he fetched his hat and coat from the closet in the hall, he tried to tell himself that they only treated him as they did because he was the youngest. His mother was likely clinging to the feeling of motherhood or fighting off the sadness of all of her brood having grown into men. He could not hold it against her.
And yet, that sort of treatment chafed in the extreme.
He attempted to walk it off, leaving the house and striding briskly through Mayfair toward St. James’s. What he truly needed to do in order to prove his mettle and save the family was to confront Montrose outright and demand to know what the man’s business was interfering in that of the Rathborne-Paxton family still. Had Montrose not extracted his pound of flesh? The man had all but bankrupted the family. He had bought up all of Joseph’s father’s gambling and speculation debts, called them in, and drained the family coffers.
He had nearly ruined the Rathborne-Paxton family name by exposing all of Lord Vegas’s evils to society as well. That was where his brothers’ plan to marry wealthy but socially unacceptable brides had come from. If Joseph and his brothers destroyed their family’s reputation themselves, then Montrose would have no fuel for the fire he intended to roast them all with. So far, that mad plan had worked. It had also enabled Joseph’s brothers to marry women they truly loved—Sam marrying his mistress, Dean marrying a notorious actress, and Francis marrying an Indian princess.
Joseph had serious reservations about the part he was expected to play in that enterprise. Yes, he could see that the scheme was effective. The Rathborne-Paxton family had indeed become a center of gossip in the last several months. Paradoxically, however, that had merely meant his mother was invited to every social event of any importance so that London’s high and mighty matrons could pump her for new and scandalous stories. And while the fortunes that his brothers had married into had helped restore the Rathborne-Paxton family coffers, they hadn’t gone quite far enough.
That was where Joseph was meant to play his part. Because whether he liked it or not, his bride had already been chosen for him—implicitly rather than explicitly. In the game of wealthy but unsuitable brides, there was one undisputed champion, and that woman was—
“Joseph!”
Joseph shook himself out of his thoughts as his journey took him to the edge of St. James’s Park and glanced around at the sound of his name.
“Hello, Joseph!” The garish cry came once more. “Yoo-hoo! Joseph Rathborne-Paxton!”
The heat of embarrassment—and something else he would rather not think about—flushed through Joseph as he turned and spotted the somehow larger than life figure of Miss Ellen Garrett several yards deeper into the park. The enigmatic woman wore a day dress of the most shocking color blue he’d ever seen. For whatever reason, she did not wear a hat on her unruly blonde hair. Worst of all, she quite literally jumped up and down as she waved her arms at him trying to attract his attention. Everyone in that part of St. James’s Park was staring at her and sniggering.
Miss Ellen Garrett. Cattle baron’s daughter from Haskell, Wyoming in the wild American West. Worth a small fortune. Crude, unrefined, and irresistibly beautiful. The woman that everyone from Francis to Miss Garrett herself expected him to marry.
Every emotion Joseph had stirred at the sight of her, making him feel like a sideshow at a carnival, where a volunteer was chosen from the crowd and asked to touch a metal ball that shot static electricity through them and made their hair stand up. Miss Garrett turned to her sister, who was with her—though Joseph wouldn’t have put it past the wild young woman to wander through London’s royal parks alone of a morning—said something briefly, then ran toward Joseph with unseemly haste.
“Joseph!” she called out again before she reached him. “You’re looking very well this morning. The sunlight suits you.”
“Miss Garrett,” Joseph said with a polite smile and a nod, clasping his hands behind his back.
The gesture was necessary, because Joseph was overcome by a mad impulse to grasp the odd woman and pull her into his arms. He couldn’t help but feel as though she needed his embrace to hold her still for three seconds on end. Not because he wanted to feel the shape of her body against his or, heaven forbid, kiss her, or anything like that. Certainly not. His feelings for the woman were purely businesslike. She had a fortune and she would be a clever embarrassment for the Rathborne-Paxton family, thus reducing the chances of Montrose targeting them further. The way his heart raced and his trousers felt tight had nothing at all to do with Miss Garrett’s bright, open smile, or the sparkle in her deep, blue eyes as she gazed at him.
“What brings you to St. James’s Park this morning?” she asked breathlessly, taking Joseph’s arm as if they would stroll on together, even though he hadn’t offered it.