Candice Hern (35 page)

"I am sorry, Jack." Mary smiled at his mock outrage. "I thought you knew that I am at home to visitors on Tuesday afternoons. But I did tell you to come late, knowing you would wish to avoid the usual crush. It is not my fault if you instead chose to show up earlier."

"No lectures, please, Mary," he said after taking a long swallow of tea. "My head still aches. Consider me properly chastised. Never again will I clutter your doorway on a Tuesday afternoon. What about the other six days of the week? Is it safe to drop by? No literary salons? Reform committee meetings? Charitable society teas?"

Mary laughed. "Only my monthly musical evenings, and those by invitation. Should I scratch you from my invitation list?"

"Do you play?"

"Usually. I mostly prefer to introduce newly discovered talents, or well-known artists performing new works. But, yes, I generally cannot resist performing as well. It is a weakness of mine."

"Then by all means, include me on your list," Jack said. "Having heard you play briefly at Lady Halsted's, I am anxious to hear more. You play like an angel, my dear." He smiled so warmly that for once Mary believed his praise was genuine. She felt the uncharacteristic heat of a blush.

"And those other afternoons?" he prompted.

"Tuesdays are my only at-home afternoons. Most other days I'm out and about, visiting or shopping or just walking through the parks."

"Then I shall simply have to make an appointment," Jack said.

Mary laughed. "That would probably be best. But as long as you're here now, let us make the best use of our time. I have my list just here." She twisted around to reach into the hidden pocket of her overdress. The movement caused her thigh to brush against Jack's momentarily. She felt a tingle of awareness, and her eyes darted quickly at his. His smoldered, as usual, with false seduction. Such a look directed at her never failed to set her off, and she once again dissolved into giggles. The man was incorrigible. She shifted her position and resumed her search for the folded paper. She located it and produced it with a flourish.

"Let's see," she began. "Lady Daphne Hewitt?"

"A lovely young woman," Jack said, "but... well, perhaps a trifle bluestockingish for my taste. I fear she would make me feel the idiot more often than not."

"Strike Lady Daphne." Mary crossed her name off the list with a tiny gold pencil. "Miss Langley-Howe?"

"Too beautiful," he said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I am sorry, Mary. But she is simply too beautiful. Not that I object to such beauty on principle, you understand," he said, smiling. "It is just that I fear the competition for such a prize would set me at a disadvantage. Ever since Lawrence exhibited her portrait at Somerset House, Miss Langley-Howe has been surrounded by an army of young, handsome admirers. If truth be told, I would just as soon avoid that crowd."

Mary smiled. "How unsporting of you, Jack."

"Put it down to my advanced years, my dear, but I would simply rather not have to fight quite so hard for a moment of the lady's attention. Besides, I am not convinced the effort would be justified. My single brief encounter with the young lady showed little beyond her beauty to recommend her. Her conversation, if I may be so blunt, was insipid at best."

"That is one of the things I most admire about you, Jack," Mary said. "You are always thoroughly honest and forthright."

For a moment Mary thought she detected a shadow cross Jack's eyes before he quickly lowered them. But she decided it was nothing more than embarrassment at her compliment, and she liked him the more for it.

"And so we eliminate Miss Langley-Howe," she said as she crossed that lady's name off the list. "Lady Camilla Redboume?" She held the pencil poised for yet another strike.

"Hmm, Lady Camilla." Jack bounced an index finger against his chin in apparent contemplation. "Yes, I rather liked her."

Mary looked up in surprise. She distinctly remembered watching Lady Camilla, an otherwise pleasant young woman, tread repeatedly on Jack's toes during a country dance at the Seymour ball. Though comely enough and with a pleasing personality, she was often somewhat awkward, even clumsy. She had come very close to ruining a beautiful gray satin waistcoat Jack had been wearing when she tripped while holding a glass of punch. Mary had been sure Jack would not wish to endure further punishment in her company.

"Keep her on the list," he said. "I would like to get to know her better, I think. She seemed to have a very sweet nature."

Mary smiled in genuine pleasure. How surprising to find a gentleman willing to overlook the obvious disadvantages in favor of the truly important aspects of a young woman's character. Lord Pemerton was indeed a remarkable gentleman.

"Lady Camilla stays, then," Mary said. "Miss Radcliffe?"

Jack shook his head. "I think not."

Mary looked up sharply. He had surprised her once again, this time by his rejection of such a beauty. Marguerite Radcliffe was a bit older than most of the other candidates, but Mary had been certain that her striking looks and continental manners—inherited from her French mother—would have appealed to Jack.

"I am afraid I could not bear her somber temperament, my dear," he said. "You, of all people, should know how much I appreciate a sense of humor. Miss Radcliffe is altogether too serious. Once her stunning looks fade inevitably with age, I fear she would be intolerably dull. I would as soon not be buckled to such as her."

Mary was somewhat taken aback by this pronouncement, not being of the same opinion regarding the lady's temperament. But Jack returned a look that seemed to challenge any objection, so she shrugged her shoulders and crossed off Miss Radcliffe's name.

She sighed as she reached her personal favorite among the candidates. She was no longer prepared to predict Jack's reaction to any of the suggested women, so she had no idea what to expect.

"Miss Carstairs?" she asked.

"By all means, leave her on the list," Jack said with unexpected enthusiasm. His brows rose at Mary's looks of undisguised shock. "Surely you are not surprised, my dear? I very much enjoy Miss Carstairs's company. She has a quick wit and intelligent conversation. Besides, I know her to be a favorite of yours. How can I quarrel with my Mary's good judgment?" After a quick wink at Mary, he turned toward Olivia, bent over her embroidery. "Do you not agree, Mrs. Bannister?"

Olivia looked up and actually smiled, much to Mary's astonishment.

"I do indeed, my lord," she said. "If I may say so, I believe Miss Carstairs to be a delightful young woman. And so pretty."

Mary glared at Olivia, who had only nights before condemned Miss Carstairs for her plumpness. Why was she suddenly so enthusiastic? Even more surprising, what had happened to the ubiquitous scowl?

After her bold announcement, Olivia calmly returned her attention to her embroidery. It was really quite remarkable. Olivia seldom spoke more than two words in Lord Pemerton's company, and generally made her disapproval of him plain, though unspoken. Mary and Jack looked at one another in question, smiled, and continued with the list. There was only one other candidate in whom Jack expressed an interest. Three candidates in all. So far. There were still many on the list yet to be presented to him.

Mary felt extraordinarily pleased with herself as she considered the three young women who had received Jack's approval. None were out-and-out beauties, though each was at least passably pretty. Each had been selected by Mary based on various other fine qualities, and she was happy to discover that those qualities had apparently not escaped Jack's notice. She had included a variety of ladies on her list, not knowing precisely what Jack would most admire. She could not be more pleased to have discovered that such a notorious womanizer was able to look beyond superficialities in his search for a wife. It was unfortunate that the marquess had developed such a questionable reputation over the years. There really was much more to the man than one had been led to believe.

She found herself staring at him in admiration—not of his handsome exterior, but of the man beneath, whom she was coming to know and appreciate. He was speaking of Lady Camilla when he caught her eye and stopped in midsentence. He placed his cup on the tea table and reached for her hand.

"Come, Mary," he said in that seductive tone that still had the power to unnerve her, despite its obvious insincerity. "Let us dispense with lists and candidates. Run away with me. We could scandalize the world and elope to the Continent. There are some advantages to being a marquess. I can obtain a special license by tomorrow. Shall we do it, Mary?"

Out of the comer of her eye Mary briefly caught a look of disapproval on Olivia's face. The scowl was back. Surely Olivia understood that Jack was teasing. A man such as Jack could never be seriously interested in someone like Mary. Yet Olivia looked as though she feared he might be serious, though hardly a day went by when he did not joke about marrying her. Mary really found the whole thing excessively droll, and Olivia's wounded sensibilities only added to her own wicked amusement. She looked up to find twin devils dancing in Jack's blue eyes and dissolved into uncontrollable laughter.

* * *

Jack slowed his black stallion to a trot as he turned into the Hyde Park gates from Park Lane. He tipped his hat a few times in the direction of acquaintances as he made his way through the afternoon crowds toward the Serpentine. It was at the first bend that he had arranged to "accidentally" encounter Mary, who would be strolling with Miss Carstairs.

The very rich Miss Carstairs.

Jessop had been fortunate to find a former acquaintance who was now employed in the Carstairs home on Portman Square. After plying his friend with several pints, Jessop had unearthed a wealth of information, so to speak, on the expectations of the daughter of the house.

"Her papa's rich as Croesus and she's his only child," Jessop had announced with relish.

Apparently, the Honorable Mr. Carstairs, younger son of an earl, had wisely invested inheritances from an uncle and a grandmother, the results of which now amounted to a sizable fortune. Miss Lillian Carstairs, his sole heir, stood to inherit a lot. And her dowry was rumored to be a large amount of cash along with a small estate in Surrey. Another estate as well as the Portman Square house would be hers upon her father's death, along with the bulk of his fortune.

Lord knows Jack did not need yet another estate to worry about. But if the cash settlement were fat enough, it would not matter. Yes, he thought as he smiled to himself, he would even abide the plump Miss Carstairs in his bed if only her dowry were equally plump.

He thought of Mary's undisguised delight at his suggestion that they arrange a chance meeting in the Park. Her huge eyes had sparkled with excitement. Though she had not said so, he knew that she had been surprised at his interest in Miss Carstairs. She was obviously very fond of the young woman and positively gloated at her success in encouraging Jack's notice. When Mary's big hazel eyes had looked at him with so much warmth and gratitude, he had experienced such a powerful feeling of guilt that he had almost turned tail and fled. It truly pained him to betray that good lady's faith in him. But he could not allow such niggling doubts to interfere with his plans.

As he headed up the length of the Serpentine, Jack caught a glimpse of primrose muslin and knew immediately it was Mary. She was turned away from him, gesturing toward a family of ducks gliding on the water, her head tilted toward the lady at her side. But something in the way she moved, the way she stretched her neck upon her shoulders—always attempting to compensate for her short stature—gave her away. Jack smiled as he watched her, thinking how perfectly the bright yellow color of her dress suited her sunny personality.

Mary turned at that moment and caught his eye. A wide smile spread across her face as she recognized him. Their eyes locked momentarily as Jack's smile broadened in response to hers. When she finally turned away, took her companion's arm, and spoke to her, Jack realized he had almost forgotten about Miss Carstairs, so pleased was he to see Mary.

Miss Carstairs, in pink sprigged muslin, walked arm-in-arm with Mary as they approached Jack on the bridle trail. He pulled his stallion to the side of the path and dismounted. Keeping the reins in his left hand, he doffed his hat with his right.

"Good afternoon, Lady Mary, Miss Carstairs," he said as he bowed toward the two smiling ladies. "What an unexpected pleasure."

"Unexpected, Lord Pemerton?" Miss Carstairs said, smiling and raising her brows in mock astonishment. "Surely it is no great surprise to find Lady Mary and me about at this hour, along with all the world and his cousin." With a sweep of her free arm she indicated the crowd of people on foot, on horseback, and in carriages thronging every pathway in the Park.

"Indeed, ma'am," Jack replied, "it is no surprise to find two such fashionable ladies about at this fashionable hour. But it is my extraordinary fortune to have encountered you at all in this crush. May I walk with you awhile?"

"We would be pleased to have you join us, my lord," Mary said.

Unable to relinquish the reins—perhaps he should have brought a groom, but that would have looked too calculating— Jack was therefore unable to offer an arm to each lady, and so he merely walked beside them. He was amused to watch Mary's easy manipulation of Miss Carstairs to a position between them.

They strolled along in companionable conversation for some time. Jack found Miss Carstairs to be intelligent and quick-witted, and began to think seriously of her as his potential bride. She was most animated when discussing the collection of antiquities she had recently viewed at the home of Sir John Soane at Lincoln's Inn Fields. Mary had warned him of Miss Carstairs's fascination with the subject, but her apparent obsession didn't bother him all that much. Better that she should have interests of her own to keep her occupied, making it easier for him to pursue his own passions. He thought with longing of the house on Half Moon Street. Miss Carstairs's dowry would be more than adequate to finance another lease.