Barbara Pierce (41 page)

Kilby decided to take pity on him. “Fayne, are you ever planning to introduce me to your mother?”

Fayne’s green eyes flashed with heat. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, not you, too?” Lacking his usual grace, he belligerently gestured at Kilby. “Mother, meet my duchess. Something tells me she will be a fitting addition to our lunatic family.”

The dowager pulled Kilby into an affectionate embrace. “Welcome to our family, Kilby. I am pleased to see my son does actually possess some sense when choosing his bride, after all.” The older woman surprised her by giving her a quick conspiring wink before leading them to the music room. “If you had encountered some of those horrid, gaudy creatures that were always trying to get their conniving hooks into my dear Tem, you would understand a mother’s despair.”

“Enough, Mother,” Fayne said, catching on to her game. “Kilby is aware of my disreputable past. Fortunately, she managed to ensnare my roguish heart before she regarded it irredeemable.”

A respectable Duke of Solitea? It seemed like an impossible task. “Oh, I suppose with Priddy’s help, I could have you respectable, in what? Say, fifty or so years?” Kilby teased. Truly, she would not want to change him. She loved Fayne exactly the way he was, his sinful flaws and all.

“Probably more like eighty, but I’ll make the dedicated effort worthwhile,” Fayne said, pausing in front of the door. He pulled Kilby against him and kissed her lingeringly in front of the dowager. “I promise.” Her toes curled at his husky vow.

“Well.” The older woman beamed at them, her eyes becoming unquestionably misty. Even if Kilby had been slow to recognize her husband’s love, his mother had immediately noticed the wondrous changes in her son. He was not mockingly contemplating the cursed fate of the Carlisle males as he had done in the past. This particular Duke of Solitea was looking forward to a long future with his duchess.

Fayne was the first to notice the room was occupied and barred Kilby’s entry with his arm. “What are they doing here?”

Two very handsome gentlemen turned at Fayne’s irritated query. The dark-haired gentleman sitting in front of an ornate gilt harpsichord abruptly stood. The tallest of the pair was standing in front of a huge scrolling rococo-style pier glass. Like his elegantly attired companion, he had black hair and blue eyes. Both gentlemen were young enough to be Fayne’s older brothers.

Unperturbed by her son’s surliness, the dowager introduced her companions as Vinson Savil, Marquis de Quaintrell, and Alain Kewell, Comte de Merieux. “We had decided to enjoy an evening at home for a change. Before your arrival, the comte was entertaining us with his marvelous skills.”

Kilby tried not to gape as the comte kissed his hostess’s hand, and then boldly kissed her cheek. “Do you know these gentlemen?” she asked her husband.

Fayne was not pleased to see that his mother had guests. “No. I have no desire to be acquainted with them, and neither do you,” he said curtly.

How very autocratic of him! And this was coming from the man who once changed mistresses with each passing season. “Heavens, why not?” Kilby demanded, smiling at the marquis. “They seem to be good friends of your mother’s.”

She was not going to start off her relationship with her new mother-in-law by being rude. They still needed to explain a few things to the duchess, such as why Fayne despised her brother, Gypsy’s guardianship, her newly found mother, and why Lord Ordish had been trying to kill them. Fayne had often told her that his family was eccentric. Somehow, she suspected that their past week exceeded even a Carlisle’s standard for outrageousness.

“They always are,” Fayne muttered under his breath. “I brought you here because I wanted you to meet my mother.
Tomorrow.
I had assumed the Solitea town house was one of the few places I could get you alone for more than a few minutes. I certainly did not bring you here so you could flirt with the duchess’s new lovers.”

“Lovers?
Both
of them?” Simply astonishing. Awed, she peered at the dowager with new interest.

Fayne, noticing his wife’s keen regard, scowled. “My mother prefers collecting them in pairs. And don’t ask me why, it is not the sort of conversation I ever intend to have with her. Nor should you. I will not have you picking up her bad habits.”

The dowager, who had been sharing whispered confidences with Lord Quaintrell, glanced up, surprised to see them still standing in the doorway. “Tem, darling, do not dawdle. Kilby, you must sit beside me. Merieux has the most incredible hands. You can almost feel—”

“That’s quite enough,” Fayne said, cutting his mother off. “Kilby will have to marvel at the comte’s impressive talent another day. It is time I put my wife in bed.”

The man undeniably had no tact. Kilby refrained from digging her elbow into his sore ribs. “Fayne! You are embarrassing me,” she hissed.

His devilish grin should have tipped her off that he was up to mischief. “Apparently, I have not made myself clear.” Fayne hoisted Kilby up and flung her over his shoulder. “Forgive us, Mother. Gentlemen. Another evening perhaps. My new duchess needs a few private lessons in obedience.” He smacked her backside affectionately. “I expect you will not see either one of us for days.”

“Days?” Kilby echoed, mortified that she was dangling upside down. The man had to learn he could not haul her about like a sack of onions. It was so undignified. She caught a glimpse of the dowager and her male companions.
They seemed very amused by Fayne’s high-handed antics. “What do you think you are doing?”

Heavens, the man has me screeching!

“Hmm.” He stroked the curve of her buttock possessively. “Someone has to take your waywardness in hand, little wolf. Who better than I?” he huskily drawled.

Her lips parted for a scathing reply. Kilby paused, and then closed her mouth. There was no man who loved her more than Fayne. He was wicked, passionate, and adventurous—and he belonged to her. Life at his side would never be dull.

“Absolutely no one, Your Grace.”