Tempting the Marquess (4 page)

“Perhaps I might lie down for a while?” she ventured.

“Certainly, dear,” Aunt Kate said. “Ah, Mrs. Maddoc, what excellent timing.”

An older woman, all round and soft about the middle, bustled into the hall. “Mr. Gower just told me what happened.” She paused to catch her breath. “Are you all right, miss? Shall I send for—?”

“No!” Olivia and Lord Sheldon spoke simultaneously.

“Thank you,” Livvy told the housekeeper, “but all I need is a short rest and I shall be as good as new.”

“Ladies, if you will excuse me, I’ve recalled a matter of business I must attend to without delay. I leave you in Mrs. Maddoc’s capable hands. If you need anything further, please don’t hesitate to ring for Gower.” With that, he bowed and walked off.

Aunt Kate shook her head. “Amazing the way gentlemen always seem to recall pressing matters of business just when they wish to avoid company, but I suppose for every man claiming urgent business there are probably two women claiming headaches to avoid, er, unwanted company of another sort.”

“While I have no objection to the present company, my head
is
starting to pound,” Livvy admitted.

“Mine too.” Aunt Kate winked. “And no wonder, with such a welcome as this. My stepson swears this place is quiet as a tomb the rest of the year, and it only turns to Bedlam the moment Charlotte and I arrive.” She turned to face the housekeeper. “Mrs. Maddoc, I trust you are well?”

“As well as can be expected at my age. Now, this must be your niece.”

Aunt Kate nodded. “You received my letter?”

“I did. Miss Weston, I hope the rest of your stay with us will prove more pleasant. Your aunt mentioned you’ve a liking for old houses and such, so you should find a great deal here to interest you. His lordship is just the same, or at least he used to be. He doesn’t take much interest in anything these days.”

The housekeeper spoke in a lovely lilting cadence, the sounds rolling gently like the hills and valleys of the surrounding countryside.

“Olivia, dear, Mrs. Maddoc will show you to your room. I shall check in on you once I have Charlotte settled in the nursery.”

“I’m to have the room in the Old Tower, yes? The one that’s said to be haunted by the White Lady?” Livvy asked excitedly, for she and her aunt had spent a great deal of time during the long coach ride discussing the castle. She would rather have spoken of the castle’s owner, but there were only so many questions she could ask without arousing her aunt’s suspicion. A genuinely haunted castle was quite thrilling, but Livvy’s preoccupation was with the clue-writing, letter-writing, and most assuredly living marquess.

Mrs. Maddoc fretfully shifted her not inconsiderable weight. “The maid going over the rooms this morning found one of the windows shattered in the tower room. It will be fixed as soon as can be arranged, but right now it’s not fit for the dogs, much less a guest.”

Livvy’s breath caught. “It was the ghost, wasn’t it?” It seemed the castle’s ghost was as unwelcoming as its owner.

The housekeeper shook her head, sighing. “Young folk are so full of whimsy-whamsy nowadays. Bess, the chitty-faced maid what discovered the window, thought much the same. If anyone is to blame, it’s Mother Nature. There was a fierce storm a couple days past—hailing, it was. I expect the window was hit hard by hailstone or some such.”

“The force responsible for the broken window isn’t important,” Aunt Kate broke in. “The chamber is uninhabitable, and that’s that. What room shall we give Olivia in the meantime?”

“That’s just the problem, my lady.” Mrs. Maddoc wrung her hands. “All the other chambers are put away in Holland cloth and closed up. None of the other rooms have been aired, and I haven’t had the time or the help to start airing another. Bess left this morning. Said it was the final straw and she wasn’t going to stay another minute in such an accursed place. We’ve had trouble keeping maidservants these past years, what with the master’s moods. Now Bess is gone, there’s no one left. I’m at my wit’s end, my lady, and I don’t mind telling you.”

“I could share a bed with Charlotte,” Livvy suggested.

Her aunt thought a moment, and then a mischievous glint came into her eyes. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary. There is a bedchamber here that I am sure is kept in good order. And, as it happens, this room also contains a ghost. Perhaps your presence will be the needed exorcism.”

Mrs. Maddoc sighed. “I reckon I know what you’re about, milady. The master isn’t going to like this,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Yes.” Lady Sheldon smiled broadly. “I know.”

His only excuse, and he knew it to be a poor one, was that her presence had thrown him.

He was not a man who enjoyed surprises.

He craved order.

He relished peace and quiet.

And yet, every December he invited—perhaps
allowed
was the better word—chaos into his home.

Chaos in the form of his well-intentioned-if-somewhat-prone-to-meddle stepmother.

Chaos in the guise of his rambunctious little sister.

And this year, he had a grim suspicion chaos had wormed its way into Castle Arlyss under a new name . . . Miss Olivia Weston.

Wasn’t there some saying about bad luck coming in threes?

He couldn’t say why, exactly, Miss Weston’s presence seemed to bode ill for his peace of mind, but he had the pricking sensation across his nape that always heralded some sort of disaster. It had been there the day his father had shown up at Harrow with the news that Jason’s mother had died in a carriage accident. And it had been there the morning he had learned of his wife’s death. . . . He tensed against the familiar rush of pain and anger the memories still brought.

Damnation, he hated this time of year. His stepmother didn’t seem to understand that these annual gatherings also brought out the ghosts of the past. All he wanted was to be left alone, but arguing with Katherine was a futile endeavor. She insisted the family come together for the holidays, and that was that.

Miss Weston was not a family member, though, or at least not
his
family member, and that meant she had no business being in his home. As he barely tolerated his family, Katherine could not have imagined he would be pleased at her bringing a guest. But he also knew she fretted over his isolation.

Had she brought the chit along for company or. . . ?

Damnation. He should have realized the moment Gower informed him that Katherine had a young woman with her. His stepmother had brought the girl to tempt him. Since he refused to go out in Society, she had brought it to him, done up in a neat little package. Pretty misses were excellent temptations, especially for a man who had been celibate as long as he. He had to resist, though, since unwrapping this particular package was as good as having the banns read.

He smiled grimly at his reflection in the looking glass, straightening his cravat. He knew Katherine’s motives were pure, however misguided, but she had gone too far this time. He would never marry again, and woe betide the scheming stepmother or ingenious ingénue who tried to convince him otherwise.

His guard up, Jason made his way to the drawing room, only to realize he had underestimated his opponent. The sight of Miss Weston—every luscious inch of her—hit him like a broadside. He had noticed earlier that she was pretty, but he had done her an injustice. There was not one specific feature of hers whose perfection caught his eye—excepting, perhaps, the creamy expanse of flesh swelling above her bodice—but the complete picture, from her upswept golden brown hair to the toes encased in dainty satin slippers, was a masterpiece.

He forced his eyes up to hers, which gleamed like twin sapphires, set off to perfection by skin the color of fine ivory. She was little and delicate, but rounded in all the right places, and he was very much aware—too much aware—of her as a woman. A pronounced cough from Katherine told Jason he had been caught in his admiration. He glanced at her, expecting her to be pleased, and received instead a look that would curdle milk.

Jason eyed his stepmother as they sat down to dinner, trying to decide if he could possibly be mistaken about her motives in bringing her niece along with her. He had been certain Katherine was hoping he’d fall in love with the chit—or at least compromise her—and marry her. Or, at the very least, that he would begin to remember what life had been like and be lured back into the glittering lights of Society, but her disapproving reaction was proving confusing.

Katherine could hardly blame him. He might live like a monk, but he didn’t think like one, and his body didn’t bloody well respond like one. Jason shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Lord, anyone would think he’d never seen breasts before. Hers were rather large for her frame and then it was only a small step from there to wondering how they might feel in his hands and—

“Jason!” Katherine’s voice was sharp.

“Eh?” Jason looked up, feeling as though he’d been rapped soundly on the knuckles.

“You are unusually distracted tonight. I just told you Olivia did wonders with the library at Haile Castle.”

Jason frowned. “I was not aware there was anything wrong with the library to necessitate work being done upon it.”

“Aunt Kate, I am sure Lord Sheldon doesn’t wish to be bored with the trifling little changes—”

“Trifling little changes? My dear, you are far too modest. Olivia took everything off the shelves, did all the dusting and cleaning herself, wouldn’t even let the maids help her.”

“Well, some of the older books were in very fragile condition. I didn’t want to risk them getting ruined by careless hands,” Miss Weston explained.

“And then,” Katherine went on, “she organized the books according to some system she has thought out—”

“By subject, and then by author within each subject, though naturally the size of the volumes had to be taken into consideration.”

“—and she set aside books to go into special boxes, making lists about what went where. I don’t know how she was able to finish it all before we left to come here.”

“It was a close thing,” Miss Weston agreed. “I should never have managed if I had gone home with Mama as originally planned.”

The pulse in Jason’s temple throbbed. Good Lord, when one of them paused for breath, the other picked right up. The upcoming weeks stretched out before him in an unending spate of feminine chatter. “Why was I not consulted before such a project was undertaken?” he ground out.

Katherine’s brow furrowed. “Consulted about rearranging the books in the library? The thought never occurred to me. And how should I have gone about asking, pray tell? I doubt you bother to open my correspondence; you certainly never deign to send a reply.”

“I open them,” he muttered sulkily. He
had
opened one of her letters. That he hadn’t read it was beside the point.

“You’re lying.” Katherine sat back in her chair, a smug smile on her lips. “Don’t bother to deny it. Your ears turn red when you lie. Charlotte is the same way, and so was your father.”

Jason fought the urge to clap his hands over his ears. “You could have written to my man of business,” he grumbled.

“I could have,” she agreed, “but as I did not require any funds, I daresay he would have told me to do as I liked. The books are certainly the better for Olivia’s care. I would never have brought it up if I hadn’t thought you would be pleased.”

Miss Weston got to her feet and braced her palms on the table. Her eyes blazed and a splash of color spread across the ridge of her nose and onto her cheeks. “I don’t see why you should be consulted,” she huffed. “As far as I understand, you haven’t left here in years and I doubt you are planning on leaving anytime in the foreseeable future. As you apparently have no interest in your other properties, you will forgive me if I have trouble believing you know or care overmuch about the state of the library at Haile Castle. And if someone else should take a notion to care—someone like me, for instance—I cannot see why you should be so put out.”

Jason stared at her. He had a feeling it was less his imperious lord of the manor stare than a bewildered, bowled-over sort of stare. He told himself he didn’t give a damn what she thought about him, but he resented being made to feel as though he had been in the wrong.

It was true he trusted the running of his other properties to estate managers, but they were all men he trusted. Besides, Katherine visited Haile Castle nearly every year, and she stayed at the town house in London frequently. She would let him know if there was a problem that wasn’t being addressed. He was not going to feel guilty over some moldering books that had likely been moldering since before his grandfather was born.

Miss Weston had some nerve to accuse him of neglecting his responsibilities, riding the high horse with her talk about caring. His time was spent caring for his son, and Edward was a damned sight more important than her books. Dusting off books wasn’t
caring
; it was cleaning. Caring was staying awake all night, watching over your child, praying for his breathing to ease. Caring was remaining strong and calm in those moments you most wanted to collapse. Caring was pleading with a God you had long since stopped believing in. . . .

What right did she have to criticize him? She was a guest in his home. Actually, if he thought about it, she had been a guest in his home for many months. And just look how she repaid him. She ransacked his library, she insulted him at his own table, and she made him
lust
, damn it.

So much that although he
wanted
to rise, doing so would only give her another reason to berate him, supposing she knew what a bulge in a man’s breeches meant. Of course, even if she didn’t, Katherine certainly did, and he wasn’t about to embarrass himself that way. And if she was trying to pair him off with this shrewish creature, he had no intention of giving her the advantage of knowing the chit affected him.

“Since your opinion of me is so low, Miss Weston, perhaps you would like to leave. I’m certain I can arrange a carriage and suitable escort to take you home.”

She gaped at him. He found he quite enjoyed rendering her speechless. He couldn’t imagine there were many able to best Miss Weston in a verbal battle.

“Or have you been pawned off on your aunt, and by association on me, because your family can no longer stomach your foul temper?”

She looked fit to burst. He bit his cheek so as not to let his amusement show. Damned if part of him hoped she
wouldn’t
take him up on his offer. Ribbing Miss Weston was the most fun he’d had in years.

“First, my family adores me. Second,
I
am not the one suffering from perpetual ill temper. Third, in the event I did want to leave, you would be hard-pressed to find an escort for me. Perhaps you are unaware, but you happen to be more than a little short-staffed. Not that I can imagine why anyone should wish to be quit of
you
—”

“Enough!” Katherine ordered. “If I wanted to listen to childish bickering at the table I would take my meals in the nursery. Jason, I would never have allowed Olivia to accompany me had I realized you would be unable to show a guest the most basic courtesy. And as for you, Livvy, the marquess is your host and deserving of your respect, no matter how provoking he may be.”

Nothing killed a man’s desire as fast as being scolded by a parental figure. Now that he could do so without embarrassing himself, Jason rose to his feet. He found his height was a greater advantage than he had foreseen. Looking down at Miss Weston gave him an unexcelled view of her plump breasts. His fingers twitched. . . .

Christ. He was a grown man. He was above this. And speaking of above, he really needed to stop staring at her breasts. He raised his eyes to meet her gaze.

“Miss Weston, I beg your pardon if I reacted too strongly. I am certain you meant no harm rearranging the library. Perhaps you even meant to be helpful.”

Her lips pursed with displeasure.

Damn, that wasn’t what he’d meant to say. At least, not in those precise terms. “I am not used to having things in my life upset,” he tried to explain. “I dislike change.”

“Sometimes change can be a good thing,” Miss Weston said softly. “There are times in every life when events occur that make change inevitable. If a person learns to embrace change rather than rail against it, perhaps it is less troubling when control is wrested away and one is forced to accept some change.”

They weren’t talking about books anymore, that much was certain.

The room was silent, so silent he could hear his heart beating in his ears. Jason gazed at her, wondering if she was a sorceress of some kind. Her eyes, deep and clear as the azure water in nearby Carmarthen Bay, seemed to see right inside him, straight into the darkness of his soul.

It was unnerving.

It was hogwash.

He was delirious, Jason told himself. He hadn’t been sleeping well of late and that, combined with this sudden surge of lust, had clearly addled his wits.

“Just so we are clear, Miss Weston, the books here at Arlyss have no need of your wonder-working. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly.” Her chin rose in the air. “If you will excuse me, Aunt Kate, I’m afraid I have lost my appetite. I think it would be best if I went to bed.”

“Of course, my darling. I admit, I am exhausted, too. Such a lot of traveling we’ve been doing, and on top of that you’ve been entertaining Charlotte a good deal of the time. It’s a wonder you haven’t collapsed. I’m certain you’ll feel more yourself after a good night’s sleep. You can ring if you need me, or I suppose the ingrate here will be close at hand.”

Jason coughed. “I beg your pardon?”