June Calvin Read online

  Contents

  Also by Intermix

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Epilogue

  Special Excerpt

  About the Author

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  The Jilting of Baron Pelham

  June Calvin

  InterMix Books, New York

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

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  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have control over and does not have any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  THE JILTING OF BARON PELHAM

  An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Signet edition / December 1994

  InterMix eBook edition / September 2012

  Copyright © 1994 by June Calvin.

  Excerpt from The Duke’s Desire copyright © 1996 by June Calvin.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-57886-5

  INTERMIX

  InterMix Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  INTERMIX and the “IM” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  This book is dedicated to the members of two local writers’ organizations. Central Oklahoma Roundtable of Authors, affectionately known as CORA, focuses on the writing of book-length fiction. OK-RWA, a local chapter of the Romance Writers of America, focuses on the art and business of writing romance fiction.

  Thanks to all the members of these two fine organizations—my teachers, my mentors, my friends!

  Chapter One

  Lord Montgomery Derwent Villars, fourth Baron Pelham, strode along Bond Street, his spirits in strong contrast to the unexpectedly sunny April weather. It had been but two days since the light of his life, Lady Elspeth Howard, had broken their engagement, and Pelham was blue-deviled.

  He could not keep himself from thinking of Elspeth. Everywhere he looked his eyes unconsciously sought her guinea gold hair, her lush figure. When a blonde came into view, he immediately compared her to Elspeth, and turned away, disappointed, for who could equal his pocket-Venus with the green eyes?

  Suddenly, as if his aching recollection of her charms had conjured her, she appeared not far down the street from him in a spanking red curricle expertly driven by Donald Endicott, Viscount Whitham. She was leaning toward Whitham, dimples showing at either side of her small, perfectly shaped mouth as she laughed at some witticism.

  Lord Pelham doubled his fists in anger and turned hastily away. He wouldn’t be caught staring at the happy pair. He looked around frantically for a friend to speak to, or a shop to enter, just as Miss Davida Gresham emerged from a mantuamaker directly into his path. She was ladened with packages and laughing back at her similarly burdened maid.

  He scarcely knew the young woman, only having met her once. But far better to be seen conversing with her than staring at his former fiancée like a moonstruck calf.

  “Good day to you, Miss Gresham. You look as if you could use some help.” Lord Pelham gave her his most charming smile as he began to remove packages from her hands.

  Davida Gresham felt her heart give a little kick and then run wild for an instant. She barely knew Lord Pelham, but had admired the handsome nobleman from afar. To find those cobalt blue eyes gazing into hers was startling but thrilling.

  A slight sideward flicker of his eyes directed her attention to a flashy curricle just drawing abreast of them. In a second she took in Viscount Whitham’s superior smirk a
nd the surprised look on Lady Elspeth’s face as she saw Lord Pelham with Davida. The baron’s studied lack of awareness of his former fiancée was touchingly obvious. Davida went into action.

  “Oh, Lord Pelham,” she simpered, drawing near him and smiling her most coquettish smile. “You are too kind and all that is gallant.” She laid both hands on his arm and walked down the street, chattering away, leaving her surprised maid sputtering, “But miss, the carriage is this way!”

  Pelham was discomposed by this effusiveness, for above all things he hated being toad-eaten. He had not thought the Greshams were bad ton, although they were obscure country gentry, known to him only through their friendship with their neighbor, the Duke of Harwood. Just as he was beginning to squirm, wondering how to discourage the familiarity he had so impulsively encouraged a few minutes ago, Miss Gresham looked over her shoulder and then stopped abruptly.

  Her eyes were twinkling with merriment. “I think your objective is accomplished, my lord. Lady Elspeth stared at us for as long as she could without tumbling backward out of the curricule. She should be turning quite green by now.”

  “Green?” Pelham felt vaguely disoriented.

  “It was your intention to make her jealous by paying attention to someone else, wasn’t it? Good strategy, as my father would say, to go on the offensive. Don’t let her be the only one to flaunt her beaus.”

  Davida had begun gently pulling Pelham in the other direction. “My carriage is this way, my lord.”

  Relief and admiration for Miss Gresham’s quick perception flooded Pelham. So she has been flirting with me to help make Elspeth jealous. He laughed, beguiled by her sparkling blue eyes, which were filled with flecks of gold.

  Something of a connoisseur of female beauty, he quickly approved of her clear fair skin, high coloring, and pert nose. She had a heart-shaped face surrounded by a cloud of short ebony curls barely restrained by a fetching bonnet.

  “I thank you for your help, Miss Gresham. As you obviously guessed, I didn’t want Lady Elspeth to see me mooning after her like a lovesick hafling.”

  “Very glad to help, my lord. And after all, it can’t hurt my consequences to be squired by Lord Pelham on Bond Street, can it?” There was a gently mocking note to her voice as Davida handed packages in to her maid, who had preceded her into the carriage. Clearly she had not been unaware of Lord Pelham’s disdain when he had thought her behavior encroaching.

  When she had retrieved all of her packages, Davida reached out a dainty gloved hand and, suddenly serious, said, “I wish you luck, Lord Pelham. I think you want her back.”

  “Am I so obviously wearing my heart on my sleeve?” Pelham was serious now, too. Somehow he felt he could trust this frank, open-mannered girl.

  “You have the right of it, though. I do hope to win her back. Perhaps you have a good idea. I should try to make her jealous. Lord knows she makes me so.” He sighed deeply.

  Davida smiled wistfully at him. She wished this handsome auburn-haired young man were sighing for her. She entered her carriage and raised her hand in farewell as he stepped away from the door.

  Before she could give John Coachman the office to start, Pelham suddenly jumped back to the side of the carriage. “I say, Miss Gresham, would you help me again? Perhaps you would go driving with me in the park this afternoon? Or tomorrow, if you have plans today?”

  Davida had plans, of course, but her parents would declare her mad if she passed up a chance to go driving at the fashionable hour with this top-of-the trees young baron. Their afternoon call on Lady Abernathy would quickly be eliminated from Davida’s duties.

  “If you will call this afternoon, Lord Pelham, you will save me a very tedious visit with an elderly friend of my grandmama’s.”

  “Excellent!” Pelham thumped the carriage door. “You’re a great gun, Miss Gresham! I’ll call for you around four-thirty.”

  Elated, Lord Pelham watched Miss Gresham’s carriage pull away. Making Elspeth jealous might be just the thing. As an extremely eligible bachelor, he would normally have to be very careful about paying attention to a marriageable young girl such as Davida Gresham, so as not to give rise to unwarranted expectations. A fellow could even find himself trapped into an unwanted marriage that way! But since Miss Gresham had suggested the idea and shown herself willing to go along with a mild deception, he felt hopeful for the first time since Elspeth had jilted him. She loved him, he was sure. Seeing him paying close attention to another girl was just the thing to bring her to heel.

  Jauntily, Pelham turned his steps toward home. He would change clothes and make sure his team and equipment were groomed properly. He wanted to look bang-up to the mark this afternoon.

  Davida tripped up the steps of their Brooks Street residence with unladylike haste. Her parents would be in alt to learn of her appointment to drive out with Lord Pelham.

  “Peters, where are my parents?” she demanded of their short, stout butler as she dashed through the entryway.

  “In the drawing room, miss.”

  “Tell Cook we will require tea a little early, and some of her best cakes, please.” Davida flung herself into the room her mother had redecorated in the fashionable Egyptian motif when they rented the house for the season.

  “Mama, Papa, you’ll never guess. I’m to go driving with Lord Pelham.”

  Her father thrust aside his paper instantly, and her mother’s hand stayed above the tambour frame, her mouth in a round “oh.”

  “Papa, it’s the most famous thing.” Davida quickly narrated her encounter with Lord Pelham for her parents.

  “Well, now, well, now,” her father murmured, his face flushed with pleasure. “Clever puss. Hooked him, you have. Now you must reel him in.”

  “No, Papa, you don’t understand.” Davida knew her father was ambitious for her. The second son of a small landholder, he had been knighted on the field of battle at Saratoga. The death of his older brother had turned him into a reluctant but determined farmer. After successfully courting her mother, the granddaughter of the Earl of Westbury, he had added farm after farm to his original holdings. Now a man of means, he had hopes of a title for his daughter, and perhaps someday a baronetcy or better for his son. And certainly Davida’s younger brother, Peter, was a very promising young man, currently distinguishing himself at Harrow. A successful political career might well be possible for him.

  Davida frankly thought her father’s expectations for her were too high. After several weeks of seeking acceptance among the haute ton, she was well aware that titles, with or without fortunes, rarely wed any but those already possessing either one or both. Davida knew herself to be pretty but not a diamond of the first water, and her dowry was merely respectable.

  Moreover, she was finding it difficult to gain entrée into the exclusive levels where she might meet the kind of suitors her father wished for her.

  Her mother’s exalted bloodlines were of little help in introducing Davida to society, as Lady Elizabeth had been the only child of parents who had both died young. The earldom had died out with her grandfather’s death, and such connections as Lady Elizabeth had through the Westburys tended to be very elderly people who could offer her daughter little help in the Prince Regent’s fast-paced society.

  Davida herself would gladly settle for a personable, respectable young man of moderate fortune, but her father was absolutely sure that his darling daughter would marry a lord. He had in fact already run off several promising suitors because they didn’t meet his high expectations.

  “Understand, Papa, Lord Pelham is not interested in me. He hopes to renew his suit for Lady Elspeth.” Not wishing him to be disappointed, nor to misjudge Lord Pelham’s intentions, Davida hastened to correct his misapprehension.

  “But, Davida,” her mother interjected, “he’s asked you to go driving.”

  “After I pointed out that he could make Lady Elspeth jealous by paying attention to me.”

  “He could have made her jealous with any other female,
but you have gained his attention,” her father asserted confidently. “He cannot but admire you, once he comes to know you!”

  Davida laughed a little nervously. She would do Lord Pelham a great disservice if she raised false expectations in her father. “What I hope is, being seen in his company will help me get noticed. I can assist him with Lady Elspeth, and he can introduce me to his friends. He is well acquainted with the very best people, you know.”

  “I thought our connection with the Harwoods would have done the trick,” her father mumbled.

  “Dear Sarah has done her best, but with the duke playing least in sight . . . and while her aunt Helen is very well regarded, she is not very active in the ton.”

  “Yes, yes. I see.” Her father frowned. “But you don’t want to make an enemy of Lady Elspeth, either. She is on the best of terms with the patronesses of Almack’s.”

  “Oh, Papa.” Davida sank into a chaise. “You must give that up. I’ll never be invited to Almack’s.”

  “Now, Davida, don’t say so. You are as well bred and as pretty as many another girl who goes there every week.” Her mother set aside her embroidery to approach her daughter. “And am I not the granddaughter of an earl?”

  Her father growled low in his throat. “But I am a mere country squire, Elizabeth. Doubtless I am holding the girl back.”

  “Never say so, Papa.” Davida leaned forward and took her father’s hands. “You are a hero and a fine gentleman. The patronesses are terrible snobs. Everyone says so. And if they don’t want to know you, I don’t want to know them!”

  Her father’s eyes looked suspiciously moist as he patted her cheeks. “And you are a minx. But a pretty one. That shade of blue suits you.”

  “I’m so glad you were wearing your prettiest walking dress when you encountered Lord Pelham.” Suddenly an alarmed look suffused her mother’s countenance. “But you can’t wear the same dress for the most important carriage ride of your life!”

  Not for the first time since coming to London, Davida felt a sense of panic arising within her. The season might seem like fun and frivolity to many, but to a young girl who must select a husband, these few weeks were of utmost importance, and great seriousness of purpose necessarily underlay her many social activities.