Page 10 of Redemption of a Marquess

“She hopes to finance a school by marrying a wealthy gentleman who will promptly die and leave her his money.”

Stirling looked sharply at him. “Are you serious?”

“She confessed the plan herself.”

“Well, the girl is industrious.”

“She is silly,” Valan said.

“Perhaps, but there are worse plans. Speaking of which, I hear you intend to visit London for an extended stay.”

Valan shook his head. “Nae, I try to have as few plans as possible. Where did you hear that?”

“Chastity told me, if I recall.”

Valan cast him a sidelong glance. Sir Stirling James wasn’t known for engaging in gossip—though plenty of gossip surrounded the man who more and more people referred to as The Marriage Maker.

They reached the balcony steps, ascended, then entered the ballroom. They stopped just inside the double doors and Sir Stirling scanned the crowd.

“Chastity probably took Miss Matheson to the ladies’ retiring room,” he said. “We will likely not see them again for some time.”

“More likely, I will not see Miss Matheson again,” Valan said.

“Unless she finds herself a rich old gentleman,” Stirling said.

Valan laughed. “I wish her luck.” His gaze caught on a tall man talking with two others. Cold uncoiled in his gut. At last, the evening had gotten interesting.

“I met Lord Gordon yesterday at a luncheon,” Stirling said. “He’s just returned from England after being away for...” Stirling looked at Valan.

“Eighteen years,” Valan finished for him.

The curtain on an alcove a few feet to the left of Lord Gordon parted and Lady Chastity and Miss Matheson stepped out. Gordon turned toward them, said something to his companion, then took three steps to the alcove. He bowed over Lady Chastity’s hand. She made introductions to Miss Matheson. Gordon lifted Miss Matheson’s hand. Valan noticed the extra seconds Gordon held the girl’s hand.

“Lord Gordon is no’ an elderly gentleman with only a few years left,” Stirling said. “Miss Matheson would do better if a man took her on as his ward.”

Valan looked at him. “What man would do such a thing?”

Stirling shrugged. “A man who wanted to ensure she didn’t fall prey to Lord Gordon.”

“You don’t like him,” Valan said.

“I know little of him. But his attentions strike me as unwholesome.” Stirling frowned. “I seem to remember there is bad blood between you two.”

“Between Gordon and I?” Valan recalled Gordon’s words that fateful night twenty years ago, “His father shot himself and left him penniless,” but smiled politely and said, “Nothing more than boyhood mischief. We haven’t seen one another since our university days.”

Curiosity flickered across Stirling’s face, then he flashed white teeth. “Shall we say hello?”

Valan angled his head in acquiescence. “To do otherwise, would be rude.”

Stirling lifted his eyebrows in obvious amusement, the gesture, Valan thought, almost as practiced as his own. Valan followed him to the alcove. They approached Gordon’s back, which suited Valan well. When they neared, Lady Chastity looked past Gordon’s shoulder and Gordon turned. Valan was rewarded with a glimpse of Gordon’s shock—and unguarded anger.

Gordon immediately turned his attention to Sir Stirling and bowed. “Your lordship, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

“And you, Lord Gordon,” Stirling replied. “You know Lord Northington?”

A corner of Gordon’s mouth went grim, but he nodded stiffly in Valan’s direction.

“Gordon and I are old friends,” Valan murmured. “We attended the University of Edinburgh together.”