Mary Jo Putney - The Diabolical Baron

THE DIABOLICAL BARON

Mary Jo Putney

Chapter 1

Lord Radford, announced the butler in a voice whose chilly perfection exactly matched the ele gant salon his lordship was entering.

Jason Kincaid, Baron Radford, could have also been characterized by the term chilly perfection. Certainly his appearance came as near as humanly possible to that state. His tall, broad-shouldered frame was admirably suited by flawless tailoring. Everything about him, from his mirror-bright top boots to his art fully styled black hair, proclaimed the man of fashion.

A closer study would have also revealed an athletes muscles beneath the coat of blue superfine. The chilliness lay in his dark cynical eyes. A naturally passionate dis position had been warped by too many people who sought his fortune and influence. There had been few indeed who had more interest in Jason than in Lord Radford.

On this occasion, a certain uneasiness lay behind his impassive face. Honoria, the dowager Lady Edgeware, had been intimidating people since the reign of George II, so discomfort was not surprising. Jason suspected he knew the cause of his aunts imperious summons. Her temper would not have improved during the three days he had kept her waiting for his appearance.

Disdaining preliminaries, Lady Edgeware fixed her target with snapping black eyes and attacked with a directness Napoleon might have envied. It was your birthday last week, Radford.

Indeed, Aunt Honoria. Since it is April, I am not en tirely surprised by the news. All of my birthdays have fallen in April, I believe.

Ill have none of your insolence! By my calcula tions, you now have thirty-five years in your dish. What are your plans for securing the succession?

Lord Radford permitted himself a wry inward smile. The Honorable Honoria Kincaids marriage to Lord Edgeware fifty-some years ago had not made her forgo allegiance to the Kincaids.

On the contrary, her persecuted relations unanimously agreed that she de lighted in bullying two families. Considering the im portance she placed on the Radford title, it was surprising she had held off so long before choosing to dress him down.

It would have surprised him more to know he was the only member of her two families that she felt any hesitation about interfering with. Other relatives would have understood: Lord Radford and Lady Edgeware were generally acknowledged to be the spit and image of each other, from their unyielding dispo sitions to the darkly sardonic eyes and tight lines around the mouths that marred the classical regularity of their faces.

The family is a long way from running out of Kincaids, Aunt. Surely Cousin Oliver has two or three po tential heirs amongst his brood?

Bah, they stink of the shop! Lady Edgeware spat out, dismissing the whole branch for her nephew Olivers crime of marrying a young lady whose grandfather had made his fortune in trade. It was of no con sequence that Oliver and his growing family showed every sign of being happier than any of her more toplofty relatives.

Of course you werent the elder son, but your brother Robert has been dead more than five years now. You are perfectly aware of your obligation to your name, but I have yet to hear youve paid the least attention to any eligible female. Keep as many married mistresses as you like, but its high time you found yourself a wife and got an heir on her.

Such plain speaking, Aunt Honoria! Almost I re gret to tell you I have been thinking along similar lines myself, Jason drawled.

Indeed? Whos the gel? Honoria demanded.

Ive no one in mind, he said indifferently, but I dont think a suitable wife should be hard to find. T he title is one of the oldest in England. More important, the Radford estates are known to be exten sive and prospering.

I cant quarrel with how much youve in creased the property yields, the dowager said grudgingly.

If so, it was the first time hed heard of something she couldnt quarrel with.

But Ill never understand, she continued irascibly, why you felt it necessary to waste such money on schools for the tenants children and on rebuilding cot tages.

Would you believe I did it from Christian charity? he inquired.

Taking her ladyships snort for an answer, he continued, The money I wasted is actually the cause of the improved yields you so admire. Tenants who dont suffer rheumatism from damp houses and who have a modicum of education prove to be vastly more productive farmers. My father seldom invested a groat in Wildehaven, and the smaller properties were in even worse case. My dear brother could never even remember his bailiffs name. Land will not prosper without proper care, and only a fool will kill his golden goose.

Lady Edgeware gave a bark of cynical laughter. There are plenty of such around. I hear that you are interested in acquiring some lands from one of your foolish neighbors.

Your sources of information never cease to amaze me. My distinguished neighbor the Earl of Wargrave managed to alienate every friend and relative he ever had before he died last year. The lawyers are trying to determine the heir. If there is no one left in the direct line, Wargraves nephew, that wastrel Reggie Davenport, will inherit. He may be happy to sell the unentailed property to finance his extrava gances. The lands would make a nice addition to Wildehaven.

It was typical of that old screw Wargrave that he would lose track of his own youngest son, Lady Edgeware said maliciously.

Shocking language, Aunt. In fairness to Wargrave, it was logical to assume that one of the two older brothers would inherit. If I recall correctly, the youngest son left the country a good few years ago amidst some kind of scandal.

He ran off with Rankins young sister. She was be trothed to some rich old lecher, and young Julius thought to rescue her. I never heard anything after that, but I suppose they ended up pinching pennies somewhere on the Continent. No doubt she eventually regretted her romantic escape. Love is poor compensation for poverty. If Julius is alive, hes the sixth Earl of Wargrave now. Or perhaps his son, if he had one and the lawyers can find him, Lady Edgeware said thoughtfully.

If there is even a him to find, Radford said dryly.

To return to our original discussion, may I assume that I will see you betrothed before this Season is over? his aunt asked.

You may.

Very well, you know what is due to your name. Let me know when youve chosen her so that I may hold a dinner to introduce the gel to her new family.

You shall be one of the very first to know, Aunt. It only remains for me to make my choice, then inform the lucky lady.

* * * *

The atmosphere that evening was rather different when the question of Lord Radfords marriage rose again. He and his boon companion, the Honorable George Fitzwilliam, had been lingering over their port for quite some time. While they werent precisely bosky, they were certainly past the point where discretion and judgment operate normally. In fact, they were ripe for becoming outrageous.

Fine color this wine has, George, said Radford as he held the glass up to the candlelight. Im glad I laid in several cases worth. By the way, I believe Ill be get ting married.

His friend blinked. Perhaps weve had enough to drink. It sounded distinctly like you said you were going to marry. When one starts hearing voices, its time to lay off the wine. Otherwise, Ill have a headache that would flatten a plow horse in the morning, he said with owl-like solemnity.

The friends did not much resemble each other. Lord Radford associated with the sporting Corinthian set and affected an elegantly simple mode of dress which perfectly suited his athletic form.