To Con a Gentleman (Dalton Family 1)

“Betrothed!” Mrs. Gardener exclaimed after Carver finished introducing Rose. “Good heavens! But, my lord, we saw you not three weeks ago in town and you did not mention any sort of attachment.”

Mrs. Gardener put Rose in mind of an overripe hog dressed in ruffles, snorting her disappointment at having been denied a juicy apple. There was no doubt that Carver was the apple and the matchmaking mama had hoped to snatch him up for one of her two daughters, both of whom were looking daggers at Rose.

The eldest daughter, Miss Gardener, was certainly beautiful with her tall and trim yet curvy form, and blonde locks piled softly upon her heart-shaped head. Rose wondered if Carver thought Miss Gardner beautiful, even though he claimed to find her annoying. She didn’t look to be in her first blush, but had such a unique beauty that Rose was sure the ton would have seen fit to give her a nickname such as the Incomparable or the Unattainable.

“Did I not?” said Carver in the tone that Rose had come to know as the precursor to a sarcastic comment. “Forgive me. How thoughtless of me to not have discussed my marriage intentions with you in the middle of Bond Street.” Carver shook his head made a tsk noise that forced Rose to bite her cheeks to keep from laughing. “Very shabby of me indeed.”

The rotund Mrs. Gardener did not look amused. She shot her beady brown eyes at Rose. How fitting that the pig woman’s eyes really did look like mud. “And pray tell, Miss Bellows, where are you from?” She all but spat the words.

“Bath, ma’am, where I reside with my uncle,” Rose said with a soft smile that she hoped would only make the woman angrier. Maybe if Rose was cunning enough, she could get the woman to really snort.

“And just who is your uncle?” If Mrs. Gardener’s eyes narrowed any further, they would completely close. “I have a few friends in Bath. Perhaps he and I are acquainted.” Unlikely.

Rose smiled, not feeling the least bit ruffled by the question. There were few things as enjoyable to her as getting to spin a new tale on the spot. It made her heart race and blood pump in her neck. She was good at lying. Definitely not a noble ability, but an enjoyable one nonetheless. “My uncle is Mr. John Bellows. Do you know him, ma’am? Although, I highly doubt it since he often suffers with the gout and has unfortunately become something of a recluse.”

“John Bellows, you say?” said Mr. Gardener, sparking up with his bushy eyebrows and booming voice. “Ah! You know, I do believe I am acquainted with the fellow!”

Rose held back a smile. “Are you really, sir? How wonderful!”

“A very tall gentleman, isn’t he?” A picture of Uncle Felix’s short round figure flashed into Rose’s mind, leaving her hard-pressed not to release a laugh. “I dare say I met the man when I was taking the waters myself! A nice fellow, indeed! Was kind enough to give me a very thorough recommendation of the best sights to visit during our stay.”

Poor Mrs. Gardener looked as if she had just been offered a leveler. Evidently, the woman had been hoping to find some major fault with Rose’s family connections that would justify a snub. But thanks to her husband’s high praise of Rose’s fictitious uncle, the lady was forced to keep her pouty mouth shut.

She decided that was the very moment to further prove her eligibility to the Gardeners. And although the duke and duchess had never asked outright, she knew they had been harboring the same thoughts. “Oh yes, that must have been him. Uncle John is everything kind and hospitable. Even while plagued with such a dreadful affliction, he never fails to smile.” She sighed. “I must say it breaks my heart to see him set down from what he really loves.”

“Oh, and what is that?” asked Mrs. Gardner, her expression skeptical. Rose could feel Carver’s eyes on her, too.

“His work,” she said. “He wouldn’t like me saying it, but Uncle is a marvelous businessman. One does not acquire a fortune such as his without having an impressive mind.” Rose tossed a rueful smile to Carver, “I am almost fearful that Lord Kensworth has offered for me only out of the rumors of what a benevolent guardian my Uncle has been.” Her words came out playful and bouncy and not at all like her own personality.

But Carver played along. “You wound me, my love! I would have been grateful to marry you even if you were a thief.”

Rose’s eyes snapped to Carver’s and held his gaze for entirely too long, but she was unable to look away. Was she mistaken, or?—but no he couldn’t have been serious. And yet, something in his tone sounded remarkably honest. Rose decided that Carver was a better actor than she had first given him credit for and pushed his words from her mind—at least until later when she was free to dissect them in private. Which she definitely would.

The eldest Miss Gardener’s slithery voice brought Rose’s thoughts back to the present. “And is that where you and Lord Kensworth first became acquainted? In Bath, that is?” The look on her face somehow conveyed to Rose that she was not asking out of interest, but rather fishing for an opportunity to put her down in some way.

Rose raced back in her mind to all of the stories she had already told Carver’s sisters. “No. We first met last season in London, but were fortunate to further our acquaintance in Bath during Lord Kensworth’s visit.” Rose kept her smile impassive and only hoped fear wasn’t showing on her face. She knew Carver had not been home to Dalton Park for several years, but didn’t know if his family had spent the summer months in London. If they had, they would know straight away that she was lying. She glanced around the room and noted that only Mary was sitting close enough to overhear, and she looked to be attending a different conversation. Rose relaxed.

“How odd that I don’t recall seeing you last season. I usually have a very reliable memory,” the young lady smiled prettily, but Rose did not miss the challenging glint in her eyes. Why was she pushing those questions? It was more than looking for a set down. Apparently she sensed a scandal, as well as an opportunity to free up Carver for herself.

“Odd indeed.” Rose matched her smile and gave a slight shrug, hoping that would be the end of the interrogation. It wasn’t.

“And Bath? I must say, I’m most surprised to hear that Lord Kensworth would ever venture to visit such a place!” It was amazing the lady could see anything with her nose stuck so far into the air like that. “I confess that I’ve always found it excessively dull for my tastes. Did you not find Bath society a dead bore, my lord?” Rose did not like Miss Gardener. Not one bit. And it wasn’t because she was jealous of the woman’s milky complexion and pale pink, voluminous lips. Or the nagging thought that maybe Carver found the woman equally stunning. It was that she represented every member of Society who had ever cast Rose aside as a disgusting street urchin unworthy of help.

Carver smoothed over some of her bitterness when he smiled and said, “I could never be bored in Daphney’s company.”

Dinner did not prove to lighten any tensions. Mrs. Gardener only continued to pepper Rose and Carver with questions as Miss Gardener—the little minx—continued to look at Carver through her excessively long dark lashes. Mr. Gardener seemed to be thoroughly bored with the whole party and did not attempt to control his wife’s impertinent questioning at all.

Rose found it interesting how proper and refined the noble family was when company was present. Gone was the excited energy and joyful hum of conversation from the previous night. Instead, the ladies were somber and polite and the gentlemen all held an authoritative air. Not unkind. Just different. Rose liked the idea that she had been able to see the family as they really were.

It wasn’t until the second dinner course was complete that Rose felt

she could truly relax. After what felt like an agonizing amount of time, the Gardener females abandoned their interrogation of Rose and begrudgingly allowed the conversation to be steered toward different topics. The eldest Miss Gardener however, rarely took her eyes off of Carver. Why that filled Rose with the desire to take hold of Carver’s hand and rest it right on the table for everyone to see, she would never know. Maybe she was simply invested in the role she was playing. Still, it was an odd urge and one she’d never felt before.

“Mr. Gardener—,” the duke spoke from across the table, drawing everyone’s attention. “What ever happened with your valet? I heard about the scandal from my man and I must admit I’m curious to know how it all ended.”

The plump Mr. Gardener groaned. “Devilish business, Duke. Had to send him off and haven’t been able to find a single reliable replacement. I’ll be dashed if I employ another crook.”

Rose’s eyes shot up and her spoon full of turtle soup fell back into the bowl. “What happened?” she asked before her brain could tell her mouth to keep shut. Rules of proper society were very strict. A lady speaking up across the table to enquire about a conversation between two gentleman was forbidden. But it was too late to retract her breech of propriety.