Page 9 of The Dandy Lyon

“I do indeed, my dear.” Thomas’s gaze had strayed to her own, a silent message in the almost imperceptible raising of his brows.

Joanna held her breath. By rights Mr. Dandridge should be unmasked and sent packing for his audacity to come to the lodge under false pretenses. A nod from her to Thomas now would surely see the man ejected from the premises. However, something about him—and she could not say if it was the touch of sadness in his voice when he spoke about his family or his generosity to the orphans or his dark good looks—that Joanna found inordinately attractive. She’d thought so when they’d met at Lady Hamilton’s. This was now the third time the gentleman had engaged a nefarious scheme to enable him to be close to her—Geoffrey had discovered the lengths Mr. Dandridge had gone to in May to gain entry to the ball and then to get Geoffrey out of the way so he could dance with her.

Well, perhaps the third time should be the charm. Holding her breath, she nodded her head. “I was saying earlier that I thought Mr. James looked familiar, and now I do recall I met him in London during the past Season.” She shook her head and laughed. “How silly of me to forget. We shared a dance, as I remember.”

Thomas’s eyes widened, then his frown returned. “I beg your pardon, Mr. James. I mistook you for another individual, someone I certainly was not expecting to see here.”

“That is quite all right, my lord.” Mr. Dandridge shot a glance from Thomas to Joanna, as if guessing at the communication that had gone between them. “I suppose I have one of those faces that everyone thinks they’ve seen somewhere before.”

“Indeed.” Thomas’s teeth were all but clenched. “Can I offer you a drink, sir? By way of apology for the mistake?”

“With pleasure, my lord.” A look of glee crossed Mr. Dandridge’s face, perhaps at the thought of the libation but more likely at the knowledge his scheme was working—for the moment at least.

“This way, Mr. James.” Thomas turned on his heel and exited, Mr. Dandridge sauntering behind him.

Once they’d left, Joanna sank down on the chair, quite exhausted from the drama that had just played out. What she wouldn’t give to be able to eavesdrop on the conversation that was about to ensue.

“Would you like me to ring for more tea, Joanna?” Honoria sat and picked up one of the neglected scones. “I need something to fortify me as the rest of the guests arrive.”

Joanna nodded, although had it been permitted, she’d have asked for the same spirits the gentlemen were about to enjoy. She’d need real fortifying if Mr. Dandridge was going to remain here as a guest.

Chapter Five

Marcus followed Lord Braeton down the corridor to a comfortable study, furnished in a rustic style with older leather chairs, warm wood paneling, and an impressive series of deer heads lined up on the walls around the room. He hoped his own head would not be joining those staring at him with pitying eyes. “You have a wonderful property here, my lord. I envy you such a retreat from the world.”

“Save your pleasantries, Dandridge.” Lord Braeton stomped over to a sideboard and splashed what looked to be an excellent cognac into a crystal glass and tossed it down his throat. “What the devil are you doing here under a false name? How dare you lie to my wife?”

“I admit I did not give her my whole name. James is my middle name. I assumed it as my last name when I donated to your wife’s charity because I didn’t wish the donation to be rejected.” Not the whole reason for the subterfuge, but it was one of them. “My reputation has made me persona non grata in some circles. I hoped by using a name other than Dandridge, that would avoid a problem.”

“And why did you decide out of the blue to make a donation to Lady Braeton’s charity?” Voice hard, Lord Braeton’s piercing gaze never left Marcus’s face.

“It was the suggestion of a mutual friend, my lord.”

“What mutual friend could we have, Dandridge?”

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”

Lord Braeton’s brows shot up.

“She knows of my desire to become more respectable, so my family will hopefully find their paths smoother in the world than mine was.” Marcus allowed a small smile to play across his lips. “I did Mrs. Dove-Lyon a great service several years ago and she was eager to repay the favor by helping me attempt to become a proper gentleman.”

“Can’t be done, Dandridge.” Lord Braeton shook his head. “A gentleman’s a gentleman due to his breeding.” He eyed Marcus skeptically. “Unless you’re telling me you’re not the son of a dock worker.”

“Actually, I’m not.”

His lordship’s hand froze in the act of taking a sip of brandy and he stared at Marcus. “Is that so?”

“My father held a tenancy from the Newell family at Little Croft Manor near Sudbury in Suffolk. We lived on the tenant farm until I was about ten years old. My father was killed when a tree fell on him during a storm.” Did he see a flicker of sympathy in the earl’s unfathomable eyes? “My mother tried to keep the tenancy herself, but I was only a boy and she was increasing with my youngest sister at the time. When she lost the farm, we moved to London where she eventually married Mr. Parker, a dock worker.”

“A tenant farmer may be a rung or two above Mr. Parker’s occupation, Dandridge, however either one is a far cry from the status of a true gentleman.” Lord Braeton upended his glass and drained it.

“That I know very well, my lord. I have had that very fact pointed out to me on numerous occasions.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon herself had tried to persuade him it was folly to attempt such a transformation, to which he had stubbornly replied that he knew what he was doing. But did he? His wealth was substantial, but it would likely never gain him entry to the respectable houses he was determined would be opened to him and his brothers and sisters. He could help his brothers financially and likely they’d land on their feet. Anthony, the next oldest, was already through university and had made some good social ties there. His sisters, Aurora and Lavinia, however, would need to come out in Society once they were of age. That wouldn’t happen unless he found a way to change his family’s status. Once he paved the way, with a solid connection to a noble house, the others should have much less trouble. If only he could find a way to marry Lady Joanna. “Still, it hurts no one if I try to act like a gentleman, with a gentleman’s sensibilities and generosity. At least, Lady Braeton was very appreciative when I became a patron of the orphanage.”

“Giving to charity isn’t the only thing makes the measure of a gentleman, Dandridge. A gentleman’s income accrues from land. No man who is truly a gentleman does manual labor.” Braeton watched him, keen as a hawk, perhaps for his next argument.

“Although I suspect centuries ago, at least some men from humbler means amassed enough wealth to buy a manor house—or marry into a family with one if we are being honest—and over time he became a gentleman by virtue of his wealthy position, not because he was descended from a medieval knight.”

Braeton’s face turned red. Before embarking on his trek to Scotland, Marcus had taken the precaution of doing some investigating about Lord Braeton’s ancestry.