Candice Hern (32 page)

All he wanted to do was to forget and move on. And oddly enough, this stranger, Lady Mary, seemed to understand what most of his friends and family could not. He studied her face as she gazed up at him, an honest, open expression in her hazel eyes. The errant thought crossed his mind that here was a woman he could trust, who could be a friend.

A friend? As Jack had never before had a woman for a friend—indeed, he had rather scorned the entire female species as being unworthy of any consideration outside the bedroom—he was at a loss to understand this entirely foreign notion.

"Am I not correct in assuming that, now you are the marquess, you must find a bride and ensure the succession?" she asked.

Jack sighed and glared at Lady Mary. "Yes."

"Well, then," she said cheerfully, "since I know you to be a rake and a rogue—and rogues are among my favorite people in the world—I would be happy to stand your friend and assist you in your search."

"You honor me, Lady Mary," Jack said as he sketched a bow.

"Only, you must promise, my lord," she said, "not to become stuffy in your new position. You must retain some measure of your roguish ways else I shall become bored and disgusted with you. I have no patience with sober, dull pattern cards of propriety. Rogues, on the other hand, I find delightfully entertaining."

Jack reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. "I shall endeavor always to keep you entertained, my lady," he said in his most seductive tone. "And since you are so fond of... rogues ... perhaps the best plan would be to marry me yourself. It would save me a great deal of trouble."

Lady Mary threw back her head and laughed. Jack was once again charmed by the husky, rusty sound of her laughter. His own laughter soon joined hers, and before long he felt several curious pairs of eyes on them. Not wishing to bring any unnecessary attention to Lady Mary, whom he decided he quite liked, he took her by the elbow and led her deeper into the shadows behind the floral arrangement. Of course, Jack thought with wicked amusement, being tugged into the shadows of a ballroom by the notorious Black Jack Raeburn could be even more damaging to her reputation. She turned to look up at him.

"You may rest easy on that score, my lord," she said, still smiling broadly, apparently unconcerned with what wagging tongues might make of her skulking in the shadows with a notorious libertine. "I am definitely not in the market for a husband. I am not at all interested in marriage. Nor," she added when Jack cast her a lecherous leer, "am I interested in dalliance, my lord."

Jack gave a sigh of mock despair.

"But I am interested in friendship," she continued. "One can never have too many friends. May I hope that we can become friends, my lord?"

"I believe we are already friends, Lady Mary," Jack said. "Indeed, I am certain we have been friends this last half hour or more."

"In that case," she said, "I am ready to help you find an appropriate bride. Although it is somewhat late in the Season and certain young ladies have already formed attachments, I believe there are still many admirable ladies available. I can think of several off the top of my head. But we must find someone who will appreciate your … er … more interesting qualities. And of course, a man in your position must always be mindful of the honor and dignity due his title. Unfortunately," she said, tapping her closed fan absently against her cheek, "that title will have the matchmakers beating a path to your door with their daughters in tow."

Jack gave a resigned shrug. "Yes," he said, "I have already had some experience in that respect. 'Tis a curious thing. A year ago most of those women would drag their precious daughters from the room in a panic if I so much as showed my face. Now, they dog my tail at every turn."

Lady Mary nodded in understanding. "All the more reason to accept my assistance," she said. "I can help you to sort out the eligible misses thrown in your path. Though I have no doubt your experience with females is vast," she said as a huge grin split her face, "unless I am much mistaken, I suspect that none of those females is precisely the sort you would want as your bride."

"N-no, not exactly," Jack sputtered. Was he truly having such a conversation with a gently bred, unmarried female? He shook his head in disbelief and grinned. He could not remember when he had been so vastly entertained by a woman—outside of the usual ways, of course—and such a plain little thing at that. And to think he had actually considered not coming to Lady Pigeon's ball!

"As it happens," Lady Mary continued, "I have been about a great deal these last few years and have, I am happy to say, a very wide acquaintance among respectable Society. I can easily introduce you to dozens of perfectly delightful, eminently acceptable young women. I will also be able to warn you against those who ought to be avoided for various reasons. Fortune hunters, for example."

"I begin to understand," Jack said. "I can see where your superior knowledge might be useful."

"Well, of course!" she said with an exasperated wave of her hands. "But first, you must give me your list of requirements."

"My what?"

"You know," she said with some impatience, "those qualities you are searching for in a bride. It will help me to identify the proper candidate."

"I haven't given it much thought," Jack lied. He would be damned before he would enlighten this perfect stranger, delightful though she may be, to his true motives.

"Don't be ridiculous! Of course you have. Let us start with the obvious. I presume she must be a beauty?"

Jack shrugged. He really would prefer to change the subject.

"Well, naturally she must be beautiful," Lady Mary said. "She will be your marchioness, after all. And it is only fitting, since you are quite good-looking yourself." She flashed him a teasing grin.

"Are your flirting with me, Lady Mary?"

"Don't be absurd," she said and then once again gave that throaty chuckle. "And so what else, my lord? Besides beauty?"

"You have already warned me against the too young, the too silly, and the too plump. I obviously do not have your discriminating tastes, my lady. I shall leave the choice to your better judgment."

"Good heavens, Lord Pemerton, I did not mean to make the selection
for
you. Only to help steer you through the rocky shoals of the Marriage Mart. To help you from running aground upon the first sandbar you encounter. 'Tis a tricky business, you know. Dangerous waters, indeed."

"Since you seem to know so much about it," Jack said, arching a significant brow, "then why, if I may ask, have you never married, Lady Mary?"

The husky laugh once again disarmed him.

"As I have said, it is tricky business," she said. "Too tricky to be of interest to me. Besides, I am much too old for such nonsense."

"Too old for games of the heart?" Jack said, lowering his voice seductively. "Come now, my lady. Where is your sense of adventure?"

"Let us just say, my lord," she replied, matching Jack's tone with her own hoarse whisper, "that I am content to be a spectator in this particular game. I am quite happily and comfortably on the shelf, if you must know."

"Then why are you so anxious to thrust me into the dangerous waters of the Marriage Mart?"

"I believe I shall find it excessively diverting, my lord!" The broad grin once again split her face, and her eyes twinkled with merriment. "Besides, you have already plunged into the water. I am merely offering to help you stay afloat. Anyway, now that we are friends, I want you to be happy. I want all my friends to be happy."

"You are very generous, my lady. And do you make yourself happy by ensuring the happiness of your friends?"

"I do indeed. It gives me a great deal of satisfaction. But in your case, I believe I shall find a great deal of amusement as well. I do so hate to be bored."

"So you have said," Jack replied. "Well, Lady Mary, during the last year I have been, if not precisely bored, then certainly not entertained. Like you, my dear, I detest boredom and have in fact spent most of my life in search of diversion. It shall give me the greatest pleasure to have you transform my current task into something more amusing."

"Ha!" she shouted, clapping her hands together and practically bouncing with glee. "I knew I would like you!"

"Well, then," he said spreading his arms wide, "what are you waiting for? Let the parade begin!"

Chapter 2

"Lord Pemerton? Good heavens, Mary, have you lost your mind?"

Mary could not hold back her smile, despite the look of horror on her companion's face. Olivia Bannister, hands frozen in mid-stitch as she looked up from her embroidery, had been in Mary's employ for over three years now, and yet apparently Mary still had the ability to shock the woman. Poor dear, Mary thought as she considered that she had likely been responsible for more than a few of those gray hairs sprinkled among Olivia's auburn curls. But she really ought to be accustomed to Mary's somewhat unconventional ways by now.

"Come now, Olivia." Mary swung her feet up onto the sofa, tucking them under her in an unladylike position, which had more than once brought a disapproving frown to her companion's face. "There is no need to get into such a pelter. I assure you, the situation is quite harmless."

Olivia glared at her with a look of such outrage that Mary burst out laughing. At last, Olivia cast her eyes toward the heavens, as if seeking guidance from Above, bundled her embroidery into her sewing bag, heaved a resigned sigh, and fixed Mary with a stern look.

"My dear," she said, "as long as we have been acquainted, have you ever known me to cavil at any behavior of yours?"

"Well, you do have a certain look—the one you are giving me just now, in fact—which can quite put one off. But, no, Olivia, you have never to my knowledge openly questioned any action of mine."

"As is only proper," Olivia said with a sniff. "As your employee I am not in a position to object. But... as a friend ..."

"A very dear friend."

"As your friend," Olivia continued, "I believe I must take exception this time." She rose from her chair and joined Mary on the sofa. "My dear, I sometimes think you forget that you are an unmarried woman and therefore bound by certain rules of Society."

"Fustian!" Mary said, brushing away those concerns with a wave of her hand. "Those rules were made for the protection of pretty young innocents straight out of the schoolroom. I am neither pretty nor young, and have no one to answer to but myself. And I have never done anything of which I am ashamed. I do have some scruples, you must know."

"I know, Mary. But—"

"And I would never do anything to hurt another human soul."

"No, of course you would not," Olivia said as she reached out to lay her hand over Mary's. "You are the kindest, most generous person I have every known."

"Thank you, my dear. Well then, what have I ever done, after all, that was so very shocking?"

"Well," Olivia said as the corners of her mouth began to curl almost imperceptibly upward, "there was the time you disappeared at Lady Dunholm's rout for over an hour with Lord Erskine."

"We were playing a private game of piquet in one of the back parlors, as you well know. Anyone could have found us if they had wanted to."

"And there was the time you blithely waltzed into Harriet Wilson's box at the opera."

"I simply wanted to meet her," Mary said, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. "And she was every bit as fascinating as I had expected. Well, she would have to be, would she not? I found her quite charming."

"And there was the time you went strolling in the gardens at Hatfield on a moonless night with that rake, Sir Rodney Lattimer. And returned with a very interesting tear in your dress."

It was Mary's turn to roll her eyes heavenward. "Sir Rodney and I were having a very interesting discussion about modern composers," she said in an exasperated tone. "I simply was not paying attention to my surroundings and happened to catch my sleeve on one of the holly bushes. Perfectly harmless."

"Except," Olivia said in a tone worthy of a starchy governess, "to your reputation."

"Olivia! When will you get it through your head that people like me do not have reputations? No one cares what a twenty- nine-year-old, ugly, insignificant, unmarried woman does. No one pays me the least attention, I assure you. Society does not care tuppence for women like me. I am perfectly safe, Olivia, even if I do prefer to associate with rakes, rogues, and the occasional courtesan. I only want to make interesting new friends, you know."

"But you already have so many friends, my dear ..."

"Yes," Mary said wistfully. "It is quite wonderful, is it not? How fortunate I am!"

"Yes, but... Lord Pemerton, Mary?"

"Oh!" Mary said, excited to discuss her newest friend. "Wait 'til you meet him, Olivia. I am persuaded you cannot dislike him. He is most amusing—and quite handsome."

"Mary!"

"Well, one can look, cannot one?"

As long as one doesn't dream, thought Mary as she recalled the darkly handsome marquess. He did not have the fresh good looks of youth, nor the classical perfection of someone like Lord Bradleigh, the stunningly handsome husband of her friend Emily. And, to be sure, there were certain signs of dissipation in the lines about Lord Pemerton's mouth and eyes. But for all that, his face had a character that appealed to Mary more than many others. Yes, she could look. But she must take care that the piercing blue eyes, unruly black hair, and sensuous smile of the marquess did not too often invade her thoughts.

But then, Mary had always been very sensible about such matters. She accepted her situation without complaint, and almost never dared to cherish foolish dreams. She had certainly been around her fair share of attractive men, and even called some of them friend. Why, then, should this particular man give her cause to worry?

"But he is a rake!" Olivia exclaimed, drawing Mary's attention back to their conversation.

"So I am told," Mary said as she arched a teasing brow.

"But, my dear, I am sure you know that he is quite ... well.. . notorious. A shameless womanizer. Why, I believe I have heard that he has fought several duels. The man is dangerous, Mary!"