The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) (12 page)

“Yes. He was betrothed to Abigail. I honestly believe there is more to the story than he is saying. But in any event, my sister is happily married to a rector from Addysby End. She helps in the school they’ve started for the village children, and has twin boys. And Joseph adores her.”

“So it all worked out in the end.” Genevieve spoke to Mary, but kept her attention focused on Redgrave.

He was certainly worth looking at. Taller than most of the men in the room, his well-cut evening jacket hugged his broad shoulders, and his black trousers clung to muscular legs. The stark white perfectly tied cravat contrasted with his tanned skin. He smiled broadly as he left the last couple he’d been chatting with and approached her and Genevieve.

“Good evening, ladies.” He bowed over Genevieve.

“Good evening, my lord,” she simpered.

He turned to Mary, who extended her hand. He took it, and she could feel the warmth through both her glove and his. He kissed her hand, then slowly let it go, dragging his hand away, as if caressing her. She felt the need to whip her fan open and wave it vigorously in front of her face.

“Dinner is served.” The short, rotund butler who had greeted them at the door stood at the entrance to the drawing room. The ladies and gentlemen began to line up in proper order. Mary found herself partnered with Lord Beamer, a board member from the Orphan Asylum. He was a friendly, open man, about twenty years her senior, and a long-time widower.

They found their seats, with Mary between Beamer and Lord Draper. Redgrave was several seats away, next to Genevieve and another young lady who was unknown to her. At least with him not right next to her she would be able to concentrate on her dinner partners.

Her mother sat at the end of the long table, next to Lord Billingsley, happily chatting away. The footmen began to serve and pour wine, and Mary’s attention was soon taken up by Beamer and Draper, who kept her entertained with lively stories throughout the dinner.

Every time she glanced in Redgrave’s direction he was watching her. At one point he raised his wine glass in salute. She returned the gesture, then continued her conversation with Lord Beamer.

Once the final course had been enjoyed by the guests, Lady Billingsley stood and announced it was time for the ladies to retire to the drawing room for tea so the gentlemen could enjoy their port.

The ladies drifted into the room, gathering in small groups, sipping tea. After accepting a teacup from the footman, Mary joined her mother and Lady Billingsley.

“Ah, there is your lovely daughter now, Evelyn.” Lady Billingsley smiled warmly at her. “You are looking quite sparkling this evening. Can it be one of the gentlemen has caught your attention? I noticed Lord Redgrave could not seem to keep his eyes off you all through dinner.”

Mary groaned as her mother glanced in her direction, her brows raised in question. “Is that right, Gertrude? Do tell.”

Chapter Twelve

The next morning, Redgrave joined the rest of the party who were traveling to the nearby town, Ilmarsh Bridge. The women were expected to enjoy a morning of shopping, while the men planned to investigate ruins of an ancient castle, followed by ale and companionship in the local tavern, The Ale and Grain House.

As always, once he joined the group, he scanned the area for Mary. She stood with her mother and two other ladies. Thinking this was as good a time as any to approach Her Grace, he strolled in their direction.

“Good morning, ladies.” He bowed and accepted the dowager’s extended hand. “Your Grace.”

“Redgrave.” Her smile was a tad warmer than the last time. However, she did cast a speculative glance at Mary, which set him a bit on edge. Had there been gossip?

He gave a small bow to Mary and the other two ladies. “I assume you will be enjoying a morning of shopping?”

“I hope to make a trip to the bookstore. Lady Genevieve tells me there is an excellent one in town.” Mary’s eyes glowed with excitement, like a child awaiting a favored treat.

“Indeed, there is. Browen’s Shop of Books and Music is well stocked for such a small town. The owner is a former professor at Cambridge and brought his love of books with him when he moved to Ilmarsh Bridge. I am sure you will enjoy browsing the shelves.”

“Have you been there before, my lord?”

Redgrave smiled inwardly at Mary’s formal address, but obviously any other term would have elicited more than speculative looks from the dowager. “Yes. I one time visited Lord and Lady Billingsley when my carriage broke down not far from here. One can also get decent food at The Ale and Grain House, where I believe the gentlemen will be gathering after our visit to the castle ruins. I assume the ladies will be joining us there, as well?”

“I believe that was Lady Billingsley’s plans, although I am not too sure about visiting a public tavern,” Lady Margaret, one of the other guests, said. She looked beyond Redgrave’s shoulder. “I believe the carriages have arrived to transport us.”

Redgrave bowed once more. “Enjoy your morning, ladies.”

The gentlemen piled into two carriages, the ladies into three others. The ride to the town was quick and easy. Since it had been at least a few days since the last rainstorm, the roads were quite passable.

Traipsing around castle ruins with the other men might be of interest, but Redgrave would much rather have spent his morning in the bookstore. He enjoyed spending quiet, peaceful times browsing bookstore shelves, discovering new books, flipping through older, beloved ones. Additionally, that was where Mary was headed.

Mary.

Her charming day dress of
woven Chinese silk with hand-painted cornflowers
brought a slight tint of blue to her eyes. He’d noticed on other occasions her eyes seemed to change colors depending on what she wore. One more thing to set her apart from other ladies.

“Redgrave, I hear your father-in-law is putting together a group of men to buy a diamond mine in Africa.” Grayson puffed alongside him as they climbed the steps of the castle. The man should spend less time with his fork and knife and more with a boxing partner at Jackson’s.

Redgrave stared straight ahead. “That is what I hear.”

“Are you in?” Grayson pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his face.

“No.”

“Why not? It sounds like a good opportunity.”

He still had not decided what to do with the information the runner had given him. He hated having his friends and acquaintances taken in by Rumbold’s scheme, but the man’s threat still hung over his head. He couldn’t afford false rumors about his likes and dislikes in the bedroom to surface just as he searched for a wife.

“I find my funds are tied up right now, so I won’t be joining in.”

“Too bad. I could use the blunt, myself. M’mistress demands more trinkets each day. I should probably give her her
cong
é
, but she’s such a talented little thing.” He nudged Redgrave in the ribs. “Especially that mouth.” He smirked, leaving Redgrave wanting to roll his eyes at the man.

After more than two hours of climbing over, remarking on, and studying the ruins, Lord Billingsley suggested the men retire to the alehouse for refreshment. “I’m sure the ladies will be ready for a repast after spending our money.” He let out with a loud guffaw.

Most of the ladies had settled on the long benches in the common room, with teacups and pots of tea in front of them. Several of the older women looked decidedly uncomfortable. Mary and Lady Genevieve were not among their number. He wanted to ask after her, but at the same time didn’t want to bring attention to his interest. After ordering a glass of ale, he took his seat near Stephenson.

“How is the wife search going?” Stephenson swallowed a sip of ale. “Several promising ladies here this week.”

“I agree.”

“Ah, but I think you have your eye on one particular lady.”

Indeed he did have his eye on one particular lady, but nothing would come of that. Redgrave shook his head. “Not yet. It is still early in the search.”

“Just be sure the lady agrees before you approach her father.” Stephenson’s lips tightened. “Otherwise you end up where I am.”

Surprised at the bitterness in the man’s voice, considering they were there to celebrate his betrothal, Redgrave said, “And that would be where?”

Stephenson gripped his glass of ale with two hands and stared at it. “Betrothed to a woman who is not happy. Lady Prudence believes I am only interested in marrying her for her dowry.”

Since that hadn’t seemed like a question, Redgrave sipped his brew and waited for Stephenson to continue.

“I don’t want, or need, the girl’s dowry.” He lowered his voice. “I just bought my way into a diamond mine in Africa. I’ll be rich as Croesus before long.”

Redgrave made a choking sound and began to cough as the ale caught in his throat.

“Are you all right, man?” Stephenson viewed him with concern and slapped him on his back.

He nodded and reached for his handkerchief to wipe his eyes. Another member of Society caught in Rumbold’s web of deceit. As each day passed, he grew more determined to do something about the scheme. He could not let Rumbold ruin other lives as he had his.

Redgrave sat on the edge of the bed in the room they’d rented for their wedding night at The Boar’s Inn. “Now that we are married, will you tell me who the father of your babe is?”

“What does it matter?” Priscilla preened in front of the mirror.

His jaw tightened, still unable to come to grips with their race to Gretna Green and marriage by a blacksmith. “It matters because I will have to raise the child. It interests me to know who he is.”

Priscilla remained silent as she undid her dress and turned her back to him. “Unlace me, please.” Once her corset was undone, she dropped it to the floor and turned to him in her transparent chemise, leaving nothing to his imagination.

His shy bride.

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, because I lost the babe two weeks ago.”

The blood pounded in his head as he jumped from the bed and wrapped his hand around her neck. “I could kill you for that.”

Her eyes brightened, and she ran her tongue over her lips. “I can think of better ways to use your anger.”

Redgrave released her, then turned on his heel and strode from the room.

The door to the alehouse opened and Lady Genevieve, Lady Prudence, Mary, and the dowager duchess stepped through the door. Mary carried a sack, most likely filled with books. She smiled in his direction, but followed her mother to the table where Lady Billingsley and Lady Margaret sat.

Stephenson slumped as his betrothed joined the other ladies.

“Chin up, old man. She will come around. The ladies like a lot of romance. Perhaps a moonlight stroll tonight might be just the thing.” Redgrave downed the last of his ale and shoved the glass away. “Or better yet, make sure her wedding night is memorable.”

He quickly pushed aside the thought of a moonlight stroll for him and Mary, or a wedding night with her spread naked on his bed.

After dinner that evening, the young people once again gathered in the drawing room for games as the older guests retired to the card room.

This time, Redgrave snagged Mary as his partner, and they stood side-by-side as they prepared to walk past a table filled with items starting with each letter of the alphabet. They were to walk past the table, then as quickly as possible, record all the items they could recall. The couple with the most items remembered would be declared the winners.

They walked as slowly as they could, then hurried to two chairs in the corner. Mary began writing as he called off items and she added the ones she remembered.

“Was there an apple? I cannot imagine what else they would use for
A
, but I don’t remember seeing one,” Redgrave asked as Mary continued to scribble.

She bit her lip as she wrote. “No. There was a map of Africa.”

The devil take it.
Was there no relief to be had from Rumbold’s scheme? Was he to encounter a reminder of it every minute?

More couples passed by the table and gathered into pairs to complete their list. Mary put their completed list to the side and picked up her fan. “’Tis warm in here.”

The slight flush to her face only enhanced her appeal. Her lavender gown now gave her wide, expressive eyes a more violet hue. Remembering his advice to Stephenson about a moonlight turn about the garden, he glanced at the crowded room. “May I escort you outside for a breath of air while the others finish their task?”

“Yes, I believe that would be wonderful.” She placed her hand on his arm and they left the room. No one seemed to note their departure, which suited him just fine. With Mary by his side, he could think of much better ways to end the evening than with another nonsensical game.

“Oh, this feels marvelous.” Mary inhaled deeply, her bodice rising and falling with her breaths. “The air is so cool tonight.” She pointed to the sky. “And look, there is a full moon.”

“Yes, beautiful.” His attention was focused on her breasts, much more interesting and beautiful than any full moon. Ever.

They walked along the path leading from the front door to the flower garden on the west side of the house. No flowers would ever smell as sweet as Mary, with the familiar scent of lemons and roses about her.

“Are you enjoying the house party?”

…

Mary tore her eyes away from the beautiful nighttime sky to meet Redgrave’s scrutiny. His piercing blue eyes were nearly navy as he reached up and ran his finger lightly down her cheek. “So soft. So perfect.”

“Yes.”

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I am enjoying the party.” The words came out breathless. For some reason she seemed to have more trouble accessing air here in the garden than she had in the stuffy drawing room.

Redgrave’s hand cupped her neck, and he drew her closer. “I’m glad.”

Her brain dulled. “What?”

“I’m glad you are enjoying the party.”

“Oh.”

His other hand moved to caress her cheek. His gaze was as soft as a butterfly’s wing when his head descended. She sucked in a breath, her eyes drifting closed. His lips brushed over hers as he spoke. “I am enjoying it as well.”

The melding of their lips transformed the coolness of the night air to warmth and comfort. He nudged at her lips, and she opened to allow the velvet sweep of his tongue. She was shocked at her eager response to his kiss. Feelings she’d not experienced before swept through her, surprising her in their intensity.

He gathered her in his arms and brought her up tight against his chest. Through her gown and his clothing she felt the thump of his heartbeat, matching her own. He spread his legs apart and slid his hand to her lower back, pulling her against him, the part of her body where moisture had gathered flush up against his hardened flesh. She felt a sense of loss when he released her lips, then showered kisses over her eyelids, nose, and jaw.

Needing something to anchor her, she gripped his arms, felt the muscles under his jacket tighten as he gripped her head and moved it so he could offer a deep kiss. Her knees turned to water, and she clung to him, afraid if he released her she would melt to a puddle at his feet.

His hand slowly moved up her arm to her collarbone, then down to cup her breast. Through her gown, he kneaded the flesh there, molding and shaping. A faint moan escaped her as she felt her nipples tighten when he swept his thumb over the hardened peak.

With a groan, Redgrave wrenched his mouth away, holding her at arm’s length. They were both panting, the noise of their breathing breaking the silence. His head dropped, soft black curls covering his forehead, making her hands itch to run her fingers through the strands.

“I feel as though I should apologize, but nothing seemed more right to me than what we just shared.” He raised his eyes to hers. What she saw there frightened her. Desire, passion. Alarm bells went off in her head, remembering that look on Claremont’s face before he attempted to go further, and how she had fought him.

Mary shook her head, the ability to speak having fled when his lips first met hers. She shivered, her body a wealth of strange feelings. Redgrave pulled her to him once again, this time wrapping his arm around her shoulders and hugging her to his side. “You are chilly. Perhaps we should return to the house.”

How to tell him she wasn’t chilly, but overheated? That the shivering was the result of his kisses and how her body reacted to him. She should not be responding to any man, least of all the one who had run out on her sister and left behind an immense scandal for her family to overcome