"Looks like I shall be collecting that bet after all, since you've made little headway with her sister. I'm surprised you've not snatched her away from Sundridge by now."
"Sundridge! Was John Campbell at the masquerade?"
"No, I don't recall seeing John."
"I have _never_ seen him with Elizabeth Gunning. He wasn't dancing attendance on her at Almack's and at the king's New Year reception he escorted Buccleuch's daughter, Lady Mary."
"Before he went up to Scotland, John was completely enamored of Elizabeth. Trust me, James, I know when a man desires a woman."
Hamilton smiled inwardly. It whet his appetite to think of stealing the prize from his arch rival, Campbell, but he said repressively, "Half of London's male population, including the king, are enamored of Mistress Gunning, but my dealings have found her to be both shy and innocent. A far cry from other females I could name."
George colored, remembering Maria's eagerness in the conservatory. Then he sobered. She hadn't yet been eager enough to yield all, even after a proposal of marriage.
Hamilton eyed his friend shrewdly. It was obvious he hadn't yet plucked the flower or he'd be demanding his money. Saturday's all-night gaming session had proved far more productive than the masquerade ball. It had put Jack Gunning in debt to him for seven thousand pounds. But Hamilton knew he had no time to lose if Campbell desired her and if he was to win the wager with Coventry. Since losing was not in his repertoire, win he must, and win he would.
Bridget rushed Maria to the Bond Street _modiste_ shops to equip her trousseau. She would open accounts for the soon-to-be Countess of Coventry so the bills would be paid by the earl once they were married. Emma went along to help carry their immediate purchases.
As soon as they departed, Elizabeth decided to return the black feathered gown and mask to Peg Woffington. The costume was an excuse to talk with Peg, since she was so much easier to converse with than her mother. Elizabeth walked the short distance from Great Marlborough Street to Peg's house in Soho Square.
"Elizabeth, my darling girl! I was just in the mood for a good gossip. Come and have some tea and we'll have a cozy natter."
"Thank you so much for the lovely costume. From the very beginning, I don't know how we would have managed without you."
"Well, obviously the costume did the trick for Maria, although I believe Bridget did a little prodding with her magic wand," Peg said with a wink. "My hat is off to your mother. She has pulled off a miracle! One down, one to go, my dear girl, what about you?"
"Well, there is someone I care about," Elizabeth said softly.
"Do tell! Or is it a secret?"
"It's sort of a secret. I haven't said anything to Mother yet. Actually, I want to see what you think before I say anything."
"Poor child. Bridget has you under her thumb."
_You know that she bullies me because I am not her favorite._
Peg poured the tea. "I am extremely flattered to have you confide in me, Elizabeth."
She took the cup and explained, "He isn't an earl like Maria's fiancé, but he is titled. He's a lord!"
"Really? Are you going to tell me his name?"
"It's Sundridge ... Lord Sundridge," she said breathlessly.
"Sundridge?" Peg put her head on one side. "But Lord Sundridge is John Campbell."
"Yes, that's his name! Do you know him?"
"My dearest girl, all the world knows him." Peg's expression turned serious. "I don't want you to be hurt, Elizabeth. He cannot possibly return your affection seriously."
_I have more than his affection. I have his love_. "Why not?"
Peg got up, went to the bookcase, and pulled out a thick volume of _Burke's Peerage_. She leafed through it. "Here it is. John Campbell is the heir of the Duke of Argyll; the Marquis of Argyll, Kintyre, and Lorn; the Earl of Argyll, Campbell, and Cowal; the Viscount Lochow and Glenilla; and the Baron of Inveraray, Mull, Morven, and Tyrie of the Kingdom of Scotland. He will be heritable keeper of Dunstaffnage and Carrick, and heritable Master of His Majesty's Household for the Kingdom of Scotland."
"Argyll?" Her hand shook; the tea spilled into its saucer.
"His father is the Fourth Duke of Argyll. John Campbell will be the Fifth Duke of Argyll."
Elizabeth set the cup down; her face drained of all color.
"John Campbell will have to marry someone with as much wealth as Charlotte Boyle and a great deal more blue blood. You mustn't expect a proposal from him, Elizabeth. Dalliance perhaps, but marriage, never."
"It cannot be the same John Campbell," she said through bloodless lips.
Peg's finger moved down the page. "John Campbell, Baron Sundridge of Combe Bank, County of Kent, eldest son and heir of the Duke of Argyll." She glanced up. "Are you all right, my dear?"
"Yes ... yes. I must be going. Thank you for--"
Somehow, Elizabeth found herself outside on the street. She took in great gulps of fresh air to keep from fainting. She knew she needed to sort out her tangled emotions, but as her footsteps carried her toward home, her thoughts were in disarray, her feelings were in chaos, and her assurance had completely vanished.
For the next two days she withdrew inside herself to a place where no one could hurt her. The swirling vortex of wedding plans swept up her mother and sister to such a degree that they did not notice. Then flowers arrived without a card.
Bridget handed them to Maria. "These are from your bridegroom."
But Elizabeth knew the narcissus and white hyacinths were from John. His message was clear. _I cannot live without you_! How foolish she had been to doubt him. Her heart ached with longing to see him, so when her mother and Maria went for an afternoon fitting of her bridal gown, Elizabeth gathered her courage and set off for Half-Moon Street. She was oblivious to the stares a lady walking alone in Mayfair received. It was a two-mile walk and by the time she arrived the afternoon light was fading from the sky. There was enough light, however, for her to recognize Lady Mary Montagu and her aunt as they left John's town house. Her doubts came flooding back, but she resolutely pushed them away as she lifted the door knocker. A servant opened the door and stared at her.
She blushed. "Elizabeth Gunning to see Lord Sundridge."
His eyes widened. "Forgive me, Mistress Gunning ... your beauty--"
John came to the top of the stairs and, when he saw who it was, came down at full speed. "Elizabeth! Come up." He urged her forward with a firm hand at the small of her back then closed the door. "You should not be visiting me alone, in daylight." He sounded like a military commander issuing orders.
"But it's perfectly acceptable after dark when none can see me?"
"Not then either." He took her cloak, laid it aside, and tried to take her in his arms. "I'm only thinking of your reputation."
She stepped aside. "Yet it's perfectly acceptable for Lady Mary Montagu to visit you?"
"She had her aunt, the Countess of Carlyle, with her," he explained. "I take it for granted you know what is acceptable."
"Just as you take for granted that I know you are the son and heir of the powerful Duke of Argyll?" Her voice held an edge.
"Elizabeth, everyone knows my father is Argyll. Surely you--"
"Everyone except poor naive Elizabeth Gunning." She lifted her chin and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "Naive enough to think you intended marriage when you asked me to come and live with you at Sundridge." Her heart stopped while she waited for his avowal that indeed he _did_ intend to make her his wife.
"My own love, you have all my heart! But marriage is impossible because of my familial duty." He reached for her hands.
"Don't you dare touch me." She spoke with regal _hauteur_, as if she were delivering the lines of a play. She paced across the room then swept around and pierced him with an accusing stare.
"I'm good enough to _bed_ but not good enough for an Argyll to _wed_!"
In the rustling sapphire taffeta, tossing her glorious golden hair about her shoulders, she had never looked
more beautiful to John nor more desirable. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and master her. He had the urge to push her down on the rug before the fire, mount her, and ride her. He knew a need to have her yield to him and tell him she loved him. Her challenge was irresistible. He reached out and dragged her into his arms. "Damn it, Elizabeth, I know you don't have a castle in Ireland. I know you are dirt poor and that this is all a _charade_!"
She stilled in his arms. "And if I did live in a castle and was exactly who I say I am, would you marry me?"
"You know I could not."
"Then your remark was unnecessary, ungallant, and bloody unkind!" She drew back her hand and slapped him hard across the face. Violence was against her nature. She had never hit anyone in her life, save this man. And she had struck him twice. She tried to pull away, but he grasped her wrist and held it securely.
"Sweetheart, I mean you no dishonor. I adore you! I will give you anything you desire if you will come and live with me in Kent."
"And be your gray lady, waiting endlessly at the window while you lie to your aristocratic wife, Lady Mary?"
Her arrow pierced his heart. He loosened his fingers from her wrist. "Forgive me, Elizabeth." He waited for her words: _There is nothing to forgive, John. I love you_. But the words did not come.
"Do you realize what the date is?" Bridget had stayed awake into the small hours, waiting for Jack to return from gambling. At his blank stare, she answered her own question. "It is the month of February. February! Our lease is up on this house at the end of the month and no money to renew it!"
Jack thought of all the markers he had given Hamilton and felt trapped. "We'll manage somehow. Maria is marrying money."
"The wedding isn't until Easter, when Parliament has its recess. It comes early this year in March, but the lease is up in February! Where on earth will we hold the wedding? If the bailiffs put us out on the street, there will be no wedding!"
"We'll wait until the first of March, then visit the leasing office and convince them that we want to renew for another six months."
Bridget didn't look convinced. "There is no problem paying for all the wedding finery. I've opened accounts in the Countess of Coventry's name, and George will pay the piper. Maria is urging him to buy them a mansion here in London. His ancestral home is in Coventry, unfortunately. He owns a town house in Bolton Street, adequate for a bachelor but not for a countess and family. Perhaps if he buys a place soon, we can have the wedding there."
"It is not customary for the bride to be married from the groom's home," Jack pointed out dryly.
"Nor is it customary for the bride to be wed from the debtors' ward at the Fleet, which is where we could be by Easter!"
Jack sent up a silent prayer that Bridget stayed in ignorance of just how much in debt they really were.
A few days later, Bridget was both surprised and delighted when she opened the note from James Douglas, Duke of Hamilton. It was an invitation for her and Jack to join him for dinner at his home, which overlooked the park at Grosvenor Place. She had no idea they would be the only guests, assuming his friends would be there.
Jack wasn't as delighted as Bridget and tried to get her to send their regrets. His efforts were in vain. On the appointed night he had no choice but put on his formal attire and beard the lion in his den, though he feared that, with Bridget on his arm, he would be between the lion and the lioness. The pair of carnivores would separate flesh from bone and devour his carcass.
When they arrived at the magnificent Hamilton House on Grosvenor Place and Bridget realized they were the only guests, she was overawed. Though she had been in opulent homes before, such as Devonshire House, she had been part of a crowd and found it easy to blend in.
Tonight was different. It was like starring in the lead role of a play that had only three actors, with the spotlight on her.
Bridget squared her shoulders, pasted on a confident smile, and sipped the expensive sherry Hamilton poured for her. When they sat down to dine, she replied to his small talk as best she could, dropping such names as Princess Augusta. She mentioned the princess's invitation to a Valentine's entertainment at Leicester House, to bolster her self-esteem. Bridget found Hamilton intimidating with his square, stocky build and pouched hazel eyes that made him look both shrewd and calculating. She wanted to throttle Jack, who was more interested in whiskey than conversation. He was as much use as a chocolate teapot!
Hamilton, like a spider, watched the couple who dined with him as if they had just entangled themselves in his web. He took perverse pleasure in their struggle with conversation and ornate cutlery and in their suffering through long silences of course after course. He assessed Bridget from behind hooded eyes. Her breasts were full, her mouth generous. She was no lady, but that's what would make her a good fuck, if she wasn't such a dominant bitch. He waited until dessert before he made his move. "You are no doubt on tenterhooks wondering what I want." He watched Jack squirm.
Bridget affected a laugh. "Not at all, Your Grace."
He hid a smile. "I want your daughter's hand in marriage."
_Christ Almighty, if we 'd only waited a few more days, she could have been a duchess instead of a countess_! "Your Grace, Maria is betrothed to the Earl of Coventry. You must have missed the wedding announcement in yesterday's newspaper."
His look and his tone were sardonic. "I have no interest whatsoever in your daughter _Maria_."
Bridget sat stunned as a bird flown into a stone wall. _Elizabeth ... he wants to marry Elizabeth_! She noticed that Jack's attention had finally been dragged from his glass. Her inborn expedience came to the fore. Hamilton was without doubt the wealthiest man with whom she would ever have personal dealings. And he wanted something that she had. Naturally, Bridget would let him have her, but at her price. She sensed his acquisitive nature and guessed he wanted to trump his friend Coventry in the bride game. "Elizabeth is very young, Your Grace. Perhaps an engagement... a long engagement," she suggested.
"Out of the question." His eyes were hard as agates; his tone implacable. "I wish to marry immediately."
"Your Grace, we have the expense of our elder daughter's wedding," she hinted. "The cost is high."
"Elizabeth's wedding will cost you nothing. It will be private and must be kept secret until it is _a fait accompli_. I'll deposit funds in your name--held in trust of course until the wedding."
"What is the figure you have in mind, Your Grace?"
"Three thousand pounds."
Bridget knew she would be a fool not to bargain. "Only three?"
He looked her directly in the eye. "Do not push me, Mrs. Gunning. I am prepared to cancel your husband's gambling debt to me of seven thousand, bringing the total to ten thousand pounds."
Bridget schooled her expression, but her thoughts screamed inside her head. _You whoreson, Jack Gunning! Your brains are in your cock and always have been. As usual, it's left up to me to be the man of this family! Once my assets are snatched away from me by marriage, I'll be out on the bloody street again_. She smiled at Hamilton. "The great honor you do my daughter almost persuades me, Your Grace. But as I said, she is extremely young to leave the nest. My daughter and I are very close. I do not believe she could manage without her mother just yet."
Hamilton, smelling victory, tossed back his brandy. "This house is immense. I have not even been inside the north wing in five years. What better caretakers could I ask for my young bride?"
Once the two main players had settled things to their mutual satisfaction, Hamilton sent the couple home in his carriage.
"I'll deal with you when we get home, Jack Gunning. In the meantime I don't want Maria to learn of her sister's miraculous good fortune just yet. It will obviously rankle her that Elizabeth is about to become a duchess, and I don't want Maria upset. Besides, she cannot keep a secret and the duke demands secrecy. As a matter of Fact, I don't think we should tell Elizabeth just yet either. Not until he's put that money in our names."
"What if Elizabe
th doesn't want to marry James Hamilton?"
"Don't be ridiculous! And don't you dare put odd notions into her head--she's odd enough. This is the golden opportunity of a lifetime, for all of us! We don't need to worry about renewing that wretched lease now. In fact, we don't need to worry about anything, ever!" Bridget, about to smile, changed her mind. "No thanks to you, Jack, you feckless bastard!" As the carriage turned into Great Marlborough Street, her face lit up. "By Jupiter, this solves the problem of Maria's wedding. She can be married from the new Duchess of Hamilton's mansion!"
Elizabeth had been silent and withdrawn since the devastating scene with John, and finally Maria noticed. "There's no need for you to sulk because I've received a proposal of marriage and you haven't. We've always known I would marry first."
"Oh, Maria, I feel only happiness for you. I believe George is a true gentleman. I'm sorry I've been in a wretched mood, but it has nothing to do with you. It's a personal matter."
"Ah, then it must be about John Campbell. George told me about the rumor that he is expected to wed Lady Mary Montagu."
_I don't give a damn_! Elizabeth told herself fiercely. _Then why does it feel like a sword has been plunged into your heart_? her inner voice asked.
"Oh, and speaking of weddings," Maria enthused, "I have decided you shall wear pink as my maid of honor. When you go for your fitting, you'll die of envy when you see my bridal gown. It has a train and a veil like a cloud of mist. I have to run. George and I are going to look at mansions. I'm taking Emma along to make sure my eager bridegroom keeps his hands to himself."
With Maria out of the house for the afternoon, Bridget decided the time had come to apprise Elizabeth of her glorious future. "Come and sit down. Your father and I have some unbelievable news to tell you."
Elizabeth sat and cast a wary glance at her father. Bridget's announcements sometimes had a way of making the earth tremble.
Bridget took center stage. "You may or may not be aware that your father and I were invited to dine with the Duke of Hamilton a few days ago. The magnificence of his mansion on Grosvenor Place surpassed my expectations. You can imagine my curiosity over why we had been invited, but I never could have guessed the reason in a million years." Bridget raised her hands dramatically, like a magician producing a rabbit from his hat. "James Douglas, Duke of Hamilton, asked us for your hand in marriage!"