Newport Summer Read online

  NEWPORT SUMMER

  Other books by Nikki Poppen

  The Romany Heiress The Heroic Baron

  The Dowager’s Wager

  NEWPORT SUMMER

  .

  Nikki Poppen

  S Montlake Romance

  The characters and events portrayed in this book arc fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2008 by Nikki Poppen All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance P.O. Box 400818

  ISBN-13: 9781477811795 ISBN-10: 1477811796

  This title was previously published by Avalon Books; this version has been reproduced from the Avalon book archive files.

  o

  For my agent, Scott at Greyhaus, and for my great editor, Faith, who both give me the chance to do

  something I love. Thanks so much for all the opportunities you’ve provided me.

  Chapter One

  London, England, May 1887, the drawing room of the Earl of Camberly’s town house

  GG Is that all, milord?” Mr. Lawbee, the somberly dressed clerk from Christie’s auction house was stiffly polite and not the least bit sarcastic or ingratiating in his tone, although, Lord knew, he could have been.

  Gannon Maddox, fourth Earl of Camberly, pushed a hand through his immaculate dark hair and fought back the retort that came so easily to his lips. Was that all? What more could there be? A man would have to be blind not to notice the gaping spaces on the town house walls where fine oils had hung, or deaf not to hear the echoing of footsteps on hardwood floors where expensive, woven Axminster rugs made in the tradition of Thomas Whittey had muffled footsteps right up until this morning. And that was just the beginning. The loyal housekeeper’s artful arranging of furniture could no longer obscure the fact that the rooms-even the public rooms-were empty of many familiar pieces. The more discerning eye would have noticed long ago that the cabriole-legged tables next to the sofas were devoid of porcelain knickknacks, brass elephants, and other sundry items brought from the family’s shipping interests in India-interests that had not kept pace with the needs of the estate.

  “Yes, Mr. Lawbee. That is all” Gannon inclined his head graciously. “I thank you for Christie’s discretion in this matter. My solicitor will contact you and handle the paperwork” Gannon tried to look nonchalant, as if auctioning off intimate household items were an everyday occurrence for a member of the peerage. By God, he’d keep his pride until the last, even if he hadn’t a penny with which to support it. His father had always said there was more to being a gentleman than deep pockets. However, deep pockets definitely helped.

  Gannon rang for Benton, the butler, to show Mr. Lawbee to the door, determined to stick to protocol for appearances’ sake. He didn’t think Mr. Lawbee was the type to gossip, but it would do no good for word to get out that Camberly had sunk so low as to show his guests to the door himself.

  Certain that he was alone and unobserved, Gannon slouched into one of the remaining chairs in the drawing room. The earldom was broke, and it was on his watch, although it was not his fault. Camberly had teetered on the precipice of financial ruin for over a generation. In spite of his efforts to revive the flagging coffers, the estate had capitulated to its long-inevitable fate.

  Seventeen years of ongoing agricultural depression were finally showing signs of outlasting the pocketbooks of even the most frugal peers, and in his case, the most inventive as well. He’d seen trouble coming and had done his best to protect against it. He’d tried various investments-commercial shipping and even the Exchange. Nothing had paid off in large enough dividends to do more than forestall the inevitable.

  Gannon needed an infusion of cash, but there was nothing outside of the entailed estates left to sell, nothing left to act as collateral that might entice a bank to advance him a sum significant enough to pull Camberly out of its slump.

  It didn’t matter. A loan wasn’t the answer. Any loan he took out would have to be paid back, and that patently could not be done. At any rate, a loan would solve nothing beyond providing temporary succor for the ailing earldom.

  At thirtythree, he was the patriarch. He had greataunts in the country at the family seat, a seventeen-yearold brother away at school, and a thirteen-year-old sister on the brink of womanhood, all counting on him to find a way through this crisis. It was time for his backup plan.

  “You’re going to do what?” Sir Garrett Atherton, Gannon’s best friend from their days at Eton together and now renowned legal counsel for the Crown, said in hushed tones of disbelief in the sanctity of White’s two hours later.

  Gannon chuckled at his friend’s shock. “You heard me. I am going to America.”

  Garrett, who was always in control and so very cool, gave a gratifying sputter at having been taken by surprise. “My dear friend, I say this with kindness, but, considering your financial difficulties, I hardly think gallivanting across the ocean on holiday is a wise idea.”

  Undaunted by his friend’s logic, Gannon pushed ahead. “I would hardly call my trip a `holiday.’ After all, I am heiresshunting.”

  “This is patently the most outlandish scheme you’ve come up with. Ever,” Garrett huffed. “I should come with you to keep you out of serious trouble”

  “Oh, no, I need you here, Garrett,” Gannon said carefully. This was the tricky part of the plan.

  Garrett’s dark gaze grew wary. “Why is that, Gannon? The last time I went along with one of your plans, I nearly ended up suspended for spying on the headmaster’s daughter.”

  Gannon laughed at his friend’s caution. “Nearly. That’s all. There’s a big difference between a fait accompli and nearly. I didn’t let you get caught, did I?”

  “Well, no,” Atherton admitted. “Still, it was a near thing.”

  “All I need this time is for you to hold off the creditors for a few months. I’ll be back in September with plenty of money. By fall, I won’t have to worry about financial security again,” Gannon said with more confidence than he felt. This was a big gamble-the last gamble, in fact. If he squandered this final chunk of money from Christie’s on a bride-finding gambit in America and failed, it would all be over for good.

  “A few months? Until September?” Garrett practically came out of his chair. “That is downright audacious. It gives new meaning to keeping the enemy at arm’s length. I am a barrister, not a miracle worker. Do you know how desperate your situation is? I am not talking about debts to a Bond Street tailor or a carriage maker. I am talking about mortgages here”

  Gannon gave a covert glance about the room to see if they’d drawn any stares. Garrett’s voice was louder than he’d have preferred. “Of course I know the extent of my debts,” he hissed in a lowered tone. “What would you have me do? Sit back and wait for the creditors to come for my estate? For my home?”

  Garrett spread well-manicured hands on his knees in a gesture of acceptance. “You know I don’t want that. I will do what I can” He drew a deep breath and drank from the crystal tumbler at his elbow. “Still, what you propose is nothing short of craziness.”

  Gannon tossed off the rest of his own glass. “It’s not as crazy as one might think. In fact, I’d say it’s the future for us land-bound nobles.”

  Garrett Atherton leaned forward. He lowered his voice in deadly earnest. “It’s the principle of the whole scheme. I am dismayed, and I use the term mildly, that an Englishman would consider selling himself to
the highest bidder like a common doxy on the wharves”

  Gannon stiffened at the rebuke. At its meanest denominator, that was exactly what his scheme reduced to. But he tried to ignore that, cloaking it in convoluted logic. It didn’t help to have his friend voice those sentiments so bluntly. “Well, why not, Garrett? Those Americans have got millions and no restrictions over primogeniture. It’s not like here, where heiresses are rare gems. Here, if a rich girl’s got brothers, she gets nothing. Over there, fathers are happy to will it all to their daughters. It’s prime pickings.”

  “We’re talking about picking a wife, not an apple,” Garrett said, making no effort to hide his chagrin over Gannon’s callous attitude.

  “We’re talking about saving Camberly,” Gannon retorted pointedly. “I’ve the got the looks and the title. I just need the fortune to go with it. After all, they’ve been doing it to us for a decade now-coming over here and hunting our titles like prized stags. Why not reciprocate? An heiress solves all my problems. American heiresses are more than a lark, you know. They’re the future. Even the Duke of Marlborough is thinking of it. He’s out of options while his brother, Churchill, has the American Jerome fortune behind him now, and he’s not even the duke”

  “Has it gotten that bad?” Garrett was aghast. “I hadn’t heard about it lately.”

  Gannon nodded solemnly. All of society had been aware over the last several years of the items auctioned off from Blenheim, Marlborough’s estate-the library, some nonentailed lands, the family jewels, the artwork, and the famous enamels.

  Gannon spoke in a near whisper. “I have it on good authority that if Marlborough doesn’t cross the Atlantic this year, he’ll go next spring.” He reached for his glass of brandy, tossing back the remainder. “And really, why shouldn’t he go? Why should Churchill have a financially secure future when Marlborough’s estate sucks up money like water on dry earth? For that matter, why shouldn’t I, a responsible man of agriculture, have the financial security I need to run my estate?” His tone dared Atherton to challenge his plan.

  “I can see you have your heart set on this madcap scheme,” Garrett conceded. “I know from experience that there’s no reasoning with you when you’re like this. However, I have to try. I feel obliged to point out that having a plan and enacting a plan are quite different issues. How do you propose to take America by storm? More important, how do you think you’ll meet the heiresses without being obvious?”

  “Do you remember my friend Lionel Carrington?”

  “The American?”

  “Yes, the wealthy American,” Gannon amended meaningfully. “He and his wife are sailing back to Newport, Rhode Island, for the summer in two weeks. Apparently, Americans flock to Newport from all reaches of the world at summer. Paris, London, Italy-the whole civilized world empties of them so they can have their Newport Season. Anyway, the Carringtons would love nothing better than to have me accompany them to Newport.”

  “Then it’s already done” Garrett’s tone was rueful. He nodded to the approaching footman. “It appears our luncheon awaits us. We shall share a last supper of sorts together and celebrate your departure”

  The elegance of White’s seemed more pronounced to Gannon’s senses as they sat down to eat. Today, he was acutely aware of the pristine, starched whiteness of the tablecloths, the exquisite thinness of the crystal goblets, the perfection of the meal arranged artfully on china plates.

  Even the conversation pricked his hypersensitive nerves. Across the table, Garrett tried to defuse his disapproval over the plan with easy chatter about horses-their shared passion-about the upcoming Ascot, and the summer regatta at Cowes. Expensive pursuits, to be sure.

  Halfway through the conversation, Gannon realized with acute clarity that if he failed to secure financing for Camberly, he stood to lose more than an estate. He stood to lose a way of life-the way of life he’d been born to, the only way of life he knew. He would lose it not only for himself but for his sister and brother too.

  Atherton leaned back after polishing off his filet mignon, wiped his mouth with a well-starched napkin, and looked Gannon squarely in the eye. “You’re sure this is the only way?”

  He didn’t have to say anything more. Gannon knew to what his friend referred. But his decision was made. “It’s either stay in England with no hope once this last batch of items is auctioned, or take Lionel Carrington up on his invitation. Only the latter offers any hope for a future beyond the fall harvest”

  Garrett nodded his acceptance. A wry smile made a modest appearance on his lips. “If you are set on this course, then this calls for a toast” Garrett motioned to a nearby waiter. “A bottle of Champagne over here. Camberly and I are going to celebrate!”

  Surprisingly, Gannon did feel like celebrating. The decision was made. This was a real chance to do something positive-and permanently-for Camberly. For the first time in months, he felt as if he were taking action, and it felt good.

  Garrett poured the chilled Champagne and offered an oblique toast in a voice easy to be heard if one strained his ears. Gannon noticed that many did. The burst of excitement at their table had drawn the quiet attentions of their fellow diners. It would be all over town that Camberly and Atherton had been in high spirits over lunch.

  Gannon clinked glasses with Garrett. “You’re quite the showman, arranging for us to be seen in good humor on the very day my household goods are sent to auction. What will people think?”

  Garrett chuckled. “They will think they’ve lost their bets. I am tired of the town speculating on the exact date of your ruin, my friend.”

  Gannon laughed loudly, drawing more stares in their direction. He’d seen the betting book downstairs. It was full of wagers about his financial future.

  Garrett raised his glass again and said ambiguously, so that eavesdroppers could draw whatever conclusions they wanted, “Here’s to a change in your fortune.”

  “Here’s to good sailing. Here’s to a Newport summer,” Gannon replied, lifting his glass to drink, ignoring the prick of conscience that rebelled at the cold thought of trading his title for cash, of picking a wife for her fortune, at putting aside any and all emotion. Emotion wouldn’t keep him warm if Camberly went on the block.

  Two weeks later, Gannon stood next to the exquisitely dressed Lionel Carrington and his lovely wife, Stella, at the rail of the Bothnia, Cunard’s elegantly appointed transatlantic steamer, as it slipped its moorings in Liverpool to the cheers of passengers and the wellwishers on the docks. He waved to his brother Andrew, his sister Moira, and his GreatAunt Lily who insisted on seeing him off. He thought of one more detail to tell Andrew about the summer wheat. He cupped his hands and yelled amid the shouts around him.

  Lionel Carrington elbowed him in the ribs. “I am sure that whatever you have to say, you’ve already said to the lad a hundred times. Relax, Gannon. You’ll be home for the harvest”

  Gannon laughed at himself and sighed. “I am sure you’re right. It’s just that he’s only seventeen, and the whole responsibility for the estate lies with him while I am gone”

  “And with your very capable steward,” Lionel reminded him. “Andrew shows a lot of promise. Your brother is growing up. He’s not the same gangly lad I met two years ago” Good-naturedly, Lionel winked. “You have to face it. He’ll be courting girls and dancing at the assemblies soon. Then he’ll be begging you to take him up to London”

  Gannon gripped the railing and assented. He’d noticed Andrew’s maturity during his quick visit to Camberly over the past two weeks. It had all been a whirlwind. Once he’d decided to join the Carringtons, he’d spent four days concluding business in London, settling accounts with Christie’s so that the sum of the sales would be placed in his personal account at the Bank of London. He arranged for the Camberly town house to be leased by foreigners looking for prime property to rent during the Season just getting under way. The rent and the enormous deposit he had required of them would see his aunts and siblings through the summer
in the country.

  With family and finances taken care of, Gannon had paid a visit to his tailor to order the requisite wardrobe for Newport. It went against his principles to spend money so lavishly on a wardrobe at such a time, but if he was to cut a compelling swath through Newport society, he had to go looking the part.

  His remaining time had been spent on a mad dash to Camberly, balancing the ledgers and going over everything with Andrew, who had solemnly accepted the duties of Camberly without a flinch. His brother had understood with a maturity beyond his years that this trip to America was not a selfish pleasure fling. Moira had smiled dreamily at the prospect of impending romance. Gannon hadn’t the audacity to crush her girlish notion that he was off to rescue a princess and bring her home to Camberly to live happily ever after.

  Gannon stayed at the railing until the dock faded from view and the open sea lay ahead of them. They had sailed with the late-afternoon tide. Now the spring sun started to lower in the sky, giving way to twilight and stars twinkling like precious gems nestled in dark velvet. The faint clink of glasses and soft piano music came from the grand salon, reminding Gannon that his first night at sea was about to begin. In many ways, it was more than a first night at sea; it was the first night of a new life.

  Was this all there was to life? Audrey St. Clair made a complicated move with her ivory fan of Battenberg lace to hide a yawn from the sea of suitors vying for position around her chaise under the shady elm.

  To her credit, she recognized that the day was exquisite in all ways, from the pleasantly warm June weather to the thrill of cold Champagne served in the afternoon. The annual Casino picnic was spread out before her, an elegantly appointed affair with its white canopies dotting the lawn that looked out over the blue Atlantic, and excellent lobster patties on silver trays served by footmen.

  Yet she was bored-she who should have reveled in being the belle of the day in her expensive Worth gown of fine white India cotton and besieged by the attentions of Newport’s finest young bucks, each one of them with a fortune at his disposal to rival her daddy’s own. However, none of the young scions or their fortunes moved her to do anything more than make polite conversation.