The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) (8 page)

As he entered his carriage, he instructed the driver to bring him to White’s. A brandy before bed would be just the thing. Hopefully, he wouldn’t run across another “investor” in Rumbold’s scheme.

…

Several days later, Redgrave arrived at the door of Lady Simpson, the young widow he was escorting to the theater. She was a promising candidate for his countess. A tad older than the newly arrived debutantes, she was attractive, smart, and witty. If he were to accomplish his task by the end of the Season, he had to get Lady Mary out of his mind and begin to seriously consider other women for whom he could offer.

Sitting across from each other, they shared a lively conversation on their way to Drury Lane, and he felt more confident that she might be a good match for him. As they strolled through the lobby on their way to his box, he immediately scanned the area and landed on Lady Mary. The first time he’d seen her since the Breckenridge dinner party.

The deep blue of her gown was a shade that only a woman with a few Seasons behind her could wear. The bodice was low enough to display to perfection the creamy mounds of the tops of her breasts. She stood with Mr. Ambrose, her arm linked with his, as they chatted with another couple he did not recognize.

All the warm feelings for Lady Simpson he had experienced on the trip to the theater vanished in an instant. He found himself comparing her to Lady Mary, which was exceedingly unfair, but nevertheless, there it was. Without conscious thought, he steered Lady Simpson toward Lady Mary and her group.

“Good evening.” He bowed slightly to her and the woman standing across from her. He gloried at the warm smile of welcome from Lady Mary.

“Good evening, my lord,” Lady Mary curtsied, then she turned and addressed the couple. “Redgrave, allow me to introduce Viscount Benson and Lady Benson. My lordships, the Earl of Redgrave.”

“My lady, it is a pleasure.” He nodded at Benson. “My lord.” He turned to Ambrose. “Ambrose.”

“Redgrave.”

Redgrave patted Lady Simpson’s hand on his arm. “I assume you know Lady Simpson?”

Lady Mary beamed another smile at her. “Yes. It is so nice to see you, Lady Simpson. May I present Lord and Lady Benson, and Mr. Ambrose?”

After everyone offered their greetings and murmured how pleased they were to see one another, the group grew silent. Always the gracious hostess, Lady Mary spoke up. “Are you familiar with
The Merchant of Venice
, Lady Simpson?”

“No. I am afraid not. I have heard of it, of course, and am quite looking forward to seeing it this evening. Have you seen it before?”

Lady Mary laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Actually, my sisters and I, along with my brother and a few friends, put on a production of
The Merchant of Venice
when we were children. It was fun, but I doubt we gave Mr. Shakespeare his due.”

“And what part did you play, Lady Mary?” Redgrave could almost see her on the stage, a young girl, full of life and excitement.

“Please do not laugh, but I guess my sisters saw me as evil. I was given the part of Shylock.”

“I am sure that role suited you fittingly.” Redgrave said.

Lady Mary raised her brows. “Are you insinuating I am greedy, my lord?” The humor in her countenance made him smile.

“Not at all. ’Tis just that, by far, Shylock was one of Shakespeare’s most memorable characters. I can see you playing that part well.” For a moment as they studied each other, it seemed as though there was no one else in the theater. Just the two of them.

Lord Benson cleared his throat. “I believe the play is about to begin.”

“Yes. So it seems.” Redgrave turned to Lady Simpson. “We should take our seats.” He nodded to the two couples. “Enjoy the play.”

Throughout the performance, no matter how hard he tried, he could only picture Lady Mary as a young girl, prancing around the stage as Shylock.

Chapter Eight

The day of the orphans’ picnic had arrived, and Mary was almost as excited as the children. They were all lined up, faces scrubbed, clothing mended and clean, and eyes shining brightly. The cook had prepared baskets of food that had been purchased from donations for the occasion. Items the children rarely, if ever, saw, were waiting for them to dive into.

The three hackneys for which Redgrave had arranged stood at the door of the Home, ready for their passengers. Two teachers and the housekeeper would accompany the carriage to keep the lively children in line.

Mary found herself in Redgrave’s carriage, along with him and board member, Lord Beamer, and Miss Abernathy from the committee. It had been decided that those few would be sufficient, along with the teachers and housekeeper, to supervise the little ones for the day. Mary loved working directly with the children, and had been more than happy to volunteer.

The event had been postponed twice already due to poor weather. Thankfully, today the air was clear and warm. The carriages rolled to a stop at the acreages the board had purchased to build a new, larger asylum on, but for now would do well for a picnic. Trees filled a good part of the space, and a small brook ran through it, enticing the children to scramble to the edge, sticking little fingers into the swirl.

“Come, children. We shall eat the fine food Cook has prepared, and then we will play games.” Mary waved at the little ones still staring at the brook as though they’d never seen water. They probably never had, except to be washed in it. Poor mites. But much better off than the urchins who roamed the streets of London. If only there were room for all the orphans.

Each child was given a napkin filled with a small piece of cold chicken, bread, cheese, fruit and, as a special treat, a sweet biscuit. They each took their little bundles and gathered in groups around the area. From the grins on their faces, the idea of a picnic had been a good one.

Mary sat with Redgrave and Miss Abernathy under an oak tree. “I love watching the excitement on their little faces.”

“Almost as excited as the look on your face.” Redgrave handed the basket of food to Lady Mary.

“I must admit, I am a fan of picnics. My mother used to take our entire brood, and usually several friends, on picnics.” She removed what she wanted from the basket and passed it to Miss Abernathy.

“Very unusual for a duchess,” Miss Abernathy said.

“My mother had not been raised to be a duchess. It was quite unexpected, and surprising to all my grandparents, when my father took an interest in her. She’d been the oldest daughter of a Baron with scant funds. Needless to say, her manner of child-rearing was quite different from most ladies of the
ton.
She is a wonderful mother.”

Redgrave studied her. “You will be a wonderful mother.”

Miss Abernathy took a sip of water. “I would love to be a mother myself one day, but with having to care for my parents, it will probably never be.”

Redgrave offered a word of sympathy as Mary thought on her own prospects. In the past two years she’d discouraged so many gentlemen she’d lost count. Motherhood was probably not in her future, either. A rather depressing thought. If only there were a way to become a mother, but avoid what came before. She shuddered and ran her palms up and down her arms.

“Are you chilly, Lady Mary?”

She turned to Redgrave, uncomfortable with how closely he watched her. “Just a tad. Perhaps some exercise will warm me up. Since the children have finished their lunch and are showing signs of restlessness, it is time for entertainments.” She stood and swept the crumbs from her skirts. “All right, children, it is time for games.”

A loud shout of enthusiasm came from the group of children, who quickly gathered up the remnants of their meal and hurried to her side. “Have you a handkerchief handy?” Mary held out her hand in Redgrave’s direction.

“Indeed I do.” Redgrave produced a clean white handkerchief from his pocket.

Miss Abernathy moved to Mary’s side. “Should not the teachers and staff conduct the games, my lady? ’Tis not proper for you to be doing it.”

Mary waved a young boy named Edward over to her side. “Perhaps, but I thought to give them a rest today. Besides, I enjoy working with the children, and I think the teachers might appreciate the opportunity to visit with one another.”

She faced the rest of the children. “We are going to play Blind Man’s Bluff. I will cover Edward’s eyes with a handkerchief. The rest of you form a circle around him. He will reach out until he touches someone. He will then try to guess who he has touched. If he identifies him or her correctly, he scores one point.”

Two of the little girls jumped up and down, clapping their hands. “Then we get a turn?”

“Yes, everyone will have a turn.” With a broad smile, Mary covered Edward’s eyes and spun him around. The boy stumbled a bit, then getting his bearings, waved his arms about, turning this way and that as children called out to him until he reached another boy.

Redgrave leaned against the tree, his arms crossed over his chest, and watched her as she directed the children. It unnerved her somewhat to have his attention so focused on her. She still hadn’t put the kiss they’d shared into proper perspective. She didn’t want to feel what she’d felt when he held her, the tingling in her body, the tightening of her nipples under the gown. They were all foreign sensations.

But she knew where those sorts of activities led, and she was not prepared to make that mistake again. Never again would she put herself in the positon she’d found herself with Claremont. Then, as if a dark cloud passed over the sun, Jeanette’s betrothed’s twisted, angry face rose to the forefront of her mind, and her stomach dropped. No. She was not ready for that.

“A sixpence for your thoughts.” Redgrave had come up behind her as she watched the children.

She turned, giving him a bright smile. “Do you think they are worth that much?”

“Ah. I think they are worth probably a hundred times that.” The fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned at her. Heavens, the man made her smile.

“Lady Mary, Lady Mary!” A little girl ran up to her, the neat braids she’d had at the beginning of the day now loose, her curls tumbling down her back.

Mary bent and looked into the child’s face. “What is it, Mary Anne?”

“We can’t find Susan.”

Redgrave took the girl by the shoulders. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Before I put the blindfold on my eyes. She was right next to me. I played the game, but when I took the handkerchief off she wasn’t there. I looked and looked, but I can’t find her.” The girl appeared to be near tears.

Mary hugged her. “We will find her. Do not worry yourself.” She turned to Redgrave. “We should get the others to join in the search. Perhaps Miss Abernathy can stay with the children while the rest of us hunt.” Most likely Miss Abernathy would not think it “proper” to hunt for a missing child.

They searched in pairs, Mary and Redgrave going in a southeasterly direction. She could hear the others calling for the girl. They walked in silence, looking behind trees and in bushes, thinking she might have fallen asleep.

After about fifteen minutes of climbing over roots and fallen tree stumps, and watching for small animal holes, a shout from one of the men caught their attention. “We found the girl.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I was starting to become concerned.” Mary took a deep breath and leaned against a tree. “I just want to take a few minutes to catch my breath.”

“Certainly.” Redgrave removed his jacket and laid it on the ground. “Here, you can rest on my jacket.”

“Goodness, no. It will be ruined if I sit on it. I’m fine just standing.”

Redgrave took her by the arm. “I insist. Your face is flushed, and you are out of breath. Please, we’ll just relax for a few minutes.”

Reluctantly, she sat. Redgrave sat alongside her, leaning against a tree, one knee drawn up, his arm resting on it. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his lawn shirt, drawing her eye. He’d loosened his cravat while they had searched, so it hung limply on his chest. She was still having a hard time catching her breath, but now she wasn’t so sure if it had been from the effort they’d made in searching for Susan, or what his close presence seemed to do to her.

As the silence grew, she decided it was time to ask the question she’d been wanting to for a long time. Mary drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around her legs, knowing her mother would be scandalized. She leaned her chin on her knees and looked at Redgrave. “Why did you do it?”

…

Taken aback, Redgrave thought about pretending he didn’t know what she meant, but Lady Mary was much too smart to fall for that. Running his palm down his face, he gave her the only answer he could. Despite the way things had turned out, Priscilla had been his wife, and he could not besmirch her memory. “I hate the way this is going to sound, but I really cannot say.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Truly, Redgrave? Do you think I am going to accept that? You ran out on my sister two weeks before the wedding, and you cannot say why?”

He bent his other leg and rested both arms on his knees. “I’m afraid you will have to accept it. Besides, ’tis all in the past.”

A mulish expression covered her face, and she pulled on several pieces of grass. “Were you happy?”

Had he been happy?

“If I had my way, I would poison your food. Smother you in your sleep. The worst thing I ever did in my whole life was tell my father you were the father of my child. I thought we would live in London, go to balls and parties. Instead, you’ve had me stuck here in this hell since our return from Gretna Green two years ago.”

“I’ve told you many times, Priscilla, I will not return to London and flaunt our marriage to the
ton
. You got what you wanted—a titled husband. What I did was shameful, and I refuse to hurt Lady Abigail or her family any more than I already have.”

“My, aren’t you the gentleman.” She sneered and poked him in the chest. “I deserve expensive jewelry and new gowns. I deserve lovers who fawn all over me, who buy me things. And what did I get? You!” Priscilla’s eyes flashed with anger, her face flushed. She’d been at the brandy bottle again, and it was only ten in the morning.

She picked up her empty glass and hurled it at his head. “Get out. Get out of here. I hate you!”

Redgrave picked up the glass that had missed his head and bounced off the chair, landing on the carpet. “I will see you at dinner. Have a pleasant day.”

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memory. “Are any marriages truly happy?”

Lady Mary looked at him with surprise. “Yes. My family is full of happy marriages.”

The unspoken words, that Abigail had found happiness after his perfidy, rang in the air. “Then why haven’t you joined the parade of happy couples?”

She sucked in a breath, apparently shocked at the turn in the conversation. Once again, uneasiness flashed across her face.

Redgrave reached out and touched her cheek. “What is it, Mary?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He cupped her chin and turned her head so she had to look at him. “Yes, you do. Something happened to you. Something frightening, and if I’m correct, it involved Claremont.”

Mary tugged her chin from his grip and stood. “I think it’s time we returned to the others. They will wonder where we got off to.”

He studied her for a minute, then rose. He picked up his jacket and shook off the grass. Shrugging into it, he rested his hands on her shoulders, leaning in close. Her face was flushed once again, but he was certain not from the exertion of searching for the little girl. Her eyes shone bright.
With tears?

“One day you will tell me,” he said gently.

She withdrew, then turned to head back to the group, lifting her skirts as she walked over the uneven ground. “As soon as you answer
my
question.”

Redgrave straightened and followed close behind. “We both seem to have our secrets, do we not, Lady Mary?”

Once they arrived back at the picnic area, the children all sat in a circle around Miss Abernathy, who kept them entertained with a story. The cook and teachers picked up the remnants of the day’s activities and stored them in baskets. The men took care of loading everything into the carriages, and soon it was time to leave.

Tired children climbed into the hackneys, the day a resounding success. Redgrave felt a sense of satisfaction at giving these children something so rare to them, yet so common to children of his rank.

He’d been home and at his desk for only about ten minutes when Mathers arrived in his office. “My Lord, a person at the door wishes to speak with you. His name is Mr. Charles.”

Despite his butler’s disapproval of the Bow Street Runner Redgrave had hired, he told Bedford to show Mr. Charles into his office.

The man was tall, bulky, and sported a nose that had been broken more than once. He settled into the chair in front of Redgrave’s desk and opened a notebook. “My lord, I did the investigation you requested on that diamond mine yer father-in-law is involved in.”

For his own peace of mind, Redgrave needed to know if the mine deal was a legitimate one. He’d hired the runner soon after his interview with Rumbold. Although he was quite certain his suspicions were correct, he’d hoped to be proven wrong so he could dismiss the concern he held for his friends.

“And what did you discover?”

“You were right. I managed to get my hands on the fancy documents yer father-in-law is flashing about.”

Redgrave’s stomach clenched at the man’s words. Although he had a good idea how the Runner had managed to get his hands on the documents, he refused to let that trouble him. His major unease came from Charles’s contention that he had been right.

“Continue.”

“There are diamond mines in Africa, and even one in the general area that his papers state. But the one we found had been well worked and was not for sale. No one in the area ever heard of the group of men Rumbold lists as the owners.”