The Major's Faux Fiancee by Erica Ridley Read Free Book Online

women that passed through his arms in and out of Society ballrooms and secret masquerades. Lambley would never make an offer.
    Then again… Bartholomew’s brow creased.
    Lambley was in Kent, not London. Why would he be, if he weren’t interested in Daphne? Why would any of them be there? Daphne was young, pretty, compassionate, and wise enough to keep her more questionable charitable projects a secret. In short: marriageable. Bartholomew had been intrigued from the moment he walked through the door. Which could only mean one thing.
    Bloody hell. These men were real beaux. If he turned around and went home without another word, Daphne could be a duchess by springtime. The envy of her peers. Would he truly do her any favors by standing in the way of such a match?
    Whitfield glanced at the clock upon the mantle. “I suppose we ought to summon our carriages if we’re to make the assembly.”
    Bartholomew stared at him blankly. “The what?”
    Daphne’s shoulders slumped. “There’s dancing tonight in the Maidstone assembly hall. It’s unnecessary and uninteresting, and not remotely a priority. I can’t imagine why Cousin Steele even thought—”
    “It’s more than interesting,” Fairfax interjected, reaching for her hand. “I’ve no greater priority than being the first name on your dance card.”
    That was likely a true statement. Bartholomew curled his lip. He was surprised Fairfax had any priorities at all. He ought to be home with his sister, not here courting Daphne.
    “As do I,” said Whitfield quickly. “It’s also my priority to be the first name on your dance card.”
    Fairfax cut him an exasperated look. “We can’t both be the first name.”
    “Of course not,” Whitfield responded cheerily. He bounced on his toes, flexing his muscles. “I’d fight you for it, but I believe the victor is a foregone conclusion.”
    Fairfax burst out laughing. “I’d wager a—”
    “Gentlemen,” Bartholomew interrupted. He tried not to feel smug when Daphne edged a little closer to his side. He liked having her there. “If the lady doesn’t wish to attend the assembly—”
    “Of course we’ll attend .” Fairfax stared at Bartholomew as if he’d grown an extra leg, rather than the opposite. “Miss Vaughan’s dance card will be the envy of Kent.”
    “I should doubt that.” Daphne gestured toward her dark attire. “I can’t stand up with any of you. I won’t be out of mourning until the end of the week.”
    Ah. Bartholomew rubbed his jaw. That explained Captain Steele’s sudden rush to get his ward betrothed by Sunday. It would be the blackguard’s first opportunity to marry her off.
    “Just so.” Whitfield puffed up his chest. “Although you can’t dance, you shan’t lack for company a single moment. I, for one, will never leave your side.”
    “I, on the other hand,” Lambley said with a glance at his pocket watch, “am afraid I must. Parliament opens session tomorrow, and I must hurry if I’m to arrive on time. Miss Vaughan, forgive me. If you’re… available in a fortnight, my cousin is hosting one of her soirées, and I know she’d be delighted if you were to attend.” He sketched a bow. “As would I.”
    Fairfax sniffed in gentlemanly offense. “From the way that was worded, I’m assuming only Miss Vaughan is invited?”
    Lambley smiled. “You’re ever so astute.”
    Daphne pressed his hand. “Katherine did invite me to London, but I’m afraid my place is here in Kent. I do thank you for the kind invitation. And for your visit.”
    “Your servant.” He bowed. “Until next we meet, do take care.”
    “I shall do what I can.” She dropped his hand to dip in curtsey. “Safe travels, Your Grace.”
    Bartholomew shouldn’t have been quite so pleased to see the last of Lambley, but he couldn’t help a small rush of relief at one less competitor.
    Daphne might believe a faux fiancé solved all her troubles, but that was only if Captain Steele approved the match. No