Everyone in the room froze, except for Fortescue, who smoothly dropped the domed silver cover of the cake tray over the kitten before he turned. “My apologies, my lord. I did not think it amiss to welcome a member of her ladyship’s immediate family.”
“Hmph.” Brookhaven gazed at Graham with resignation. “I see the pattern now. You pluck one rake from the house and another simply pops up in his place.”
Deirdre would rather die than laugh at anything her husband uttered at the moment, but a faint snort did escape. She covered it with a demure clearing of her throat. “My lord, would it not be enjoyable to have my cousin join us for supper?”
Graham, who had watched them both most carefully since Brookhaven had entered, stood and shook his head with a charming smile. “That’s a grand offer, pet, but I must fly. There’s a card game awaiting me, I fear.”
Brookhaven folded his arms. “Don’t let us keep you then.”
Graham bowed over Deirdre’s hand.
“Traitor,” she muttered.
He flashed her a smile. “Give him a chance, love. He’s all right.”
“Great lot you know about it.” There’d been no time to tell Graham about her situation—nor was she sure she wanted to. She’d worked so hard to win this man. She wasn’t ready to admit that it hadn’t been a good plan.
Graham bent to give her a peck on the cheek. “I wish you happy, Dee,” he whispered.
Deirdre pushed him away. “Get off. You’re not my brother, Graham.”
He grinned as he straightened. “I couldn’t love you more if you were my very own sister, pretty Dee. I’ll visit often, I promise.”
Sister. As if she’d have him. She watched him saunter out past Brookhaven with a reluctantly fond smile on her lips. It would be nice to have at least one person about who didn’t despise her or think her mad.
Brookhaven was gazing at her. She let out a breath. “Did you wish to speak to me about something, my lord?”
He pulled an envelope from his pocket. “You have a letter. It’s from Phoebe.”
Her temper flared. “You’ve read it? Am I to have no rights in this house?”
He flushed. “Of course I have not read it. I recognized her handwriting. I am not an ogre, you know.”
Beside her, Meggie made a dismissive noise. Bolstered by such solidarity, Deirdre glared back at her husband of one day with complete disdain. “Well, what must I do to receive this letter—wash the windows? Or is it last evening’s display you wish me to repeat?”
He darkened, but it was not simple anger that flared in his eyes.
Calder gazed at the woman he had chosen above all
others and wondered how in the world he could have made such a drastic mistake. She was impossible!
Oh, she was capable of charm and laughter. He’d stood in the doorway, watching her with her alleged cousin—that fop was no blood relation, he well knew!—all smiles and graceful ease.
But none for him.
Graham was just like Rafe—pretty words and entertaining manner, but where was his character? He had nothing but his name, so whose money would he be losing at the card table tonight?
Yet Deirdre, whom he had somehow managed to allow himself to believe was attracted to
him
, spent all her pretty attention on useless boys like Lord Graham Cavendish!
Jealousy and old doubts twined within him. He stalked forward and thrust the thrice-damned letter into her hands. “Do be sure to let me know if my brother sends me word as well.”
Then he walked away from his bride … again.
Deirdre pressed the letter between her hands for a long moment and allowed her heartbeat to settle. She’d had the sudden, wild impression that he was coming to pull her into his arms just then. It was just like her contrary heart to be disappointed.
The letter from Phoebe was precisely as Deirdre had expected, a surprised and delighted reaction to the announcement which had followed her wedding journey through Spain.
When Phoebe had won Brookhaven’s proposal merely by standing across a crowded room, it had been difficult for Deirdre to like the cousin she’d not seen in many years. She hadn’t behaved all that well at the
time, actually, reminding herself more of Tessa every day as the wedding date had grown closer.
Now, she was able to think quite fondly of Phoebe and smile as she read.
“You’ve done it now, Dee. Rafe is sure his brother will never forgive him—and why would he think otherwise when he chooses to set his wedding while we’re gone?”
Oops
. To be truthful, Deirdre hadn’t given her cousin’s presence much thought and none at all for Lord Brookhaven’s bastard brother. Turned on its side, the matter looked much worse than it was.
Or did it? She had no idea how Brookhaven felt about his brother’s actions—actions that in anyone’s book played out as betrayal. True, he’d taken part in securing Phoebe for Rafe, and hadn’t that been romantic in the end?
Calder had chased Phoebe down when she’d run away with Rafe and brought her back in the middle of the night, her gown torn and ruined, pale and silent after Rafe had left her alone at that inn. Yet, he’d been kind after, protecting Phoebe from Tessa’s wrath.
Deirdre sighed. A complicated man was Lord Brookhaven, that was for certain.
She brought her attention back to the letter in her hand.
“I’m happy for you, Dee, and I’m sure you’ll be a better Marchioness of Brookhaven than I ever would have been …”
Hmm. Phoebe hadn’t known about Lady Margaret either, Deirdre wagered. There was some comfort in knowing Calder had kept her in the dark as well, that his hideously inconsiderate plan had not been some sort of personal judgment of Deirdre herself.
No, the man was simply an idiot when it came to the feelings of others. Deirdre had lived with someone else like that for most of her memory. She knew supreme self-involvement when she saw it, but with Calder it was something else. She knew he did not lack in feeling, like Lady Tessa. It almost seemed that he feared to care.
Looking at Meggie’s smudged little face, however, only firmed her resolve to break through to the man. He might have a heart where Tessa lacked one, but if he didn’t use it the end result was much the same.
Graham’s visit and Phoebe’s letter helped. She did not feel nearly as alone as she had this morning. At least Brookhaven didn’t intend to deny her family …
A smile teased at the corner of her mouth. She must ask Sophie to visit immediately. And if Sophie came perhaps a few others could ride in her wake … and wouldn’t Brookhaven find that extremely annoying?
Calder spent that afternoon secluded in his study, staring at ledgers that refused to add up. The records were accurate. It was his attention that disobeyed him. After sufficient hours of uselessness, he rose to dress for supper. If he wished Deirdre and Meggie to obey the niceties, he could hardly skirt them himself.
Supper was perfect, as usual. He would not have stood for less—but it all tasted of sawdust to him.
She looked so beautiful, seated across from him, bathed in candlelight. Her hair was different, softer. She’d pulled back the front, but the rest poured down her back like a waterfall of summer light. There was something softer in her eyes as well—as if she might be thinking more kindly of him this evening.
Heat flooded his body at the thought of what a fellow might expect from more kindly thoughts. Forcing down that sudden disquieting lust, he spent so long trying not to stare at her that the meat course was served before he realized that she wore the same gown she’d had on earlier, a simple muslin fit for receiving a cousin in a parlor but nothing fine enough for supper.
“You didn’t think it necessary to dress for supper?”
His abrupt question cut the silence too harshly. She
visibly flinched, making him feel like the ogre he’d denied being earlier.
She swallowed the bite of beef she’d been chewing delicately. “I did not know you wished it.”
He was surprised. So simple a response? Where was the fiery defiance? Where was the bristling pride?
She leaned forward and inhaled deeply to say something else, but the roaring in his ears blotted out every word. A long fair curl fell forward over her shoulder only to become tightly lodged between her full breasts. Didn’t she realize it? Didn’t she know that his hands were shaking with the desire to reach across the table and free it for her?
Deirdre smiled to herself.
It’s working
. He couldn’t take his eyes from her. Unfortunately, when his eyes darkened hungrily and fixed upon her bosom, she ought to have been satisfied with her victory—but satisfaction was not to be had when his hot gaze only ignited a new heat within her. Her thighs dampened and her nipples tightened. It ought to have been mortifying.
It wasn’t.
Men had wanted her before, both obviously and subtlety, and it had had no effect at all. This man with his flaming gaze and his silent slow burn was about to turn her into a bonfire without so much as touching her!
She had said something, hadn’t she? She couldn’t remember. He had not replied anyway. There was no point in attempting conversation anyway, not when her mouth had gone dry with need and her throat tightened with aching anticipation. He might come to her tonight, if she unlocked the door …
“Dee!
”
Abruptly Deirdre realized that Meggie had been trying
to get her attention for several minutes with a very obvious stage whisper—and of course, the little vulgarian had picked up on Graham’s ridiculous nickname for her.
“Dee!”
She tore her gaze from Brookhaven’s.
“For pity’s sake, what is it?”
“My kitten’s gone missing!”
Brookhaven cleared his throat. “I ordered Fortescue to give it to Cook.”
Deirdre turned to gaze at him with concern. If he tried to get rid of poor Meggie’s only friend, she was prepared to—
“Kitty for
supper?”
The volume was deafening and the shrill pitch made one want to crawl under the table. Meggie’s rising wails drowned out any attempt of Brookhaven’s to correct the impression that he had served her pet to her topped with gravy and roast potatoes.
At first Deirdre was concerned at the hysterics—until Meggie flashed her an evil grin from behind her napkin. They’d planned on doing something upsetting at supper tonight, but this far outshone their debated plate-in-his-lap scheme. Deirdre had to grant silent applause. Such thoroughness and dedication to duty in one so young! Heavens, the child was quite professional!
Then, grabbing up her own napkin, Deirdre pretended to gag into it. “Oh, how
could
you?” she cried at her husband’s confused scowl.
Finally, the man hit his limit. He threw back his head.
“Enough!”
Despite her worst intentions, Deirdre found herself
silenced by the male authority in his bellow. She’d never heard him raise his voice before, however, so perhaps she ought to count some sort of triumph.
Meggie halted with a last damp wail and a muffled hiccup. Deirdre shot her a sympathetic glance. She had worked herself into quite a state, however deliberately.
He placed both palms on the table and stood very slowly and deliberately. “Since neither of you seem to have any appreciation for Cook’s fine meal, you will both go to bed without any supper,” he growled.
Deirdre might have bristled under such a childish punishment, but after all, she richly deserved it. On the whole, she’d had enormous fun. She rose with complete composure. “Off we go, Lady Margaret.”
Meggie sniffed and complied. At the door, she turned back. “I want to sleep with my kitten.”
No one had ever said the child lacked fortitude. Outmanned, Brookhaven sank back into his seat and dropped his head into his hands. “We’ll discuss the kitten’s future tomorrow, Lady Margaret. Cook will take care of him well enough until then.”
At which point they beat a wise retreat from the ground of battle, considering themselves the victors of the day.
“HAVE YOU EVER tasted bonbons?”
Deirdre and Meggie had fallen back to regroup in her ladyship’s bedchamber. They lolled dully before the fire, their stomachs rumbling in earnest now. The last thing Deirdre wanted to think about was food. “Of course.”
Her tone must have been a bit too offhand, for Meggie went silent, her gaze on the coals. Deirdre set down the book she’d been reading aloud. “You’ve never tasted sweets, have you?”
Meggie shook her head without looking away from the fire. “Papa ordered that I wasn’t to have any.”
“Ever?” Wasn’t that just like the man, to ban sweets entirely with no thought to simple moderation? “One would think we were prisoners in the Tower,” she grumbled.
Meg turned to her. “What did you say?”
Deirdre slid her feet off the settee and leaned forward. “I said, ‘I have a special power.’” She grinned. “I know how to make toffee!”
Meg’s eyes widened. “You do?”
Deirdre strode to the bellpull and gave it a decisive yank. “My father taught me. We used to make it on snowy days.”
Fortescue, with his usual speed, tapped at the door, then entered. “My ladies?”
Deirdre waved her hand grandly, playing the great lady for Meggie’s amusement. “Fortescue, I require two small pots, butter, sugar, chocolate and walnuts—immediately!”
Fortescue glanced at Meg. “His lordship has ordered that Lady Margaret not be given sweets.”
Deirdre crossed her arms and raised a brow. “And has his lordship also ordered that I be so deprived?”
Fortescue’s lips twitched. “Indeed not, my lady. I shall send a tray up directly.”
As he departed, Meg sat up straighter. “We’re going to eat sweets?”
Deirdre flung herself down onto the settee with a
laugh. “Lady Margaret, we are going to get revoltingly sick on sweets!”
The tray arrived, nuts already chopped and chocolate shaved to precise tiny bits, perfect for melting. There was even a pitcher of milk and two glasses. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who thought it was high time his lordship eased the reins a bit.
They sprawled on their stomachs before the coals and Deirdre showed Meg how to melt the butter and stir in the sugar until the mixture turned the perfect color of brown. Then while that cooled on the windowsill, they melted the chocolate and sweetened it to smooth perfection.
“Can we just eat this?”
Deirdre laughed at Meg’s eagerness. “I used to say that, too. And my father would say, ‘Patience, dear heart. It will be rewarded.’”
She poured the chocolate over the cooled butter mixture, sprinkled the nuts and set the pot back on the windowsill to cool again. “One really needs snow to cool it quickly—” She turned to see Meg’s face filled with sadness, her gaze lost again in the coals. “Lady Margaret?”
“Papa doesn’t like me at all.” Her eyes were wide and glossy in her little face.
Deirdre couldn’t very well deny it, when she’d seen no sign of any such affection. “How do you know that?”
“Your papa called you ‘dear heart.’ Papa never—He used to call me ‘Meggie’ and pat me on the head when he came to Brookhaven. Now he calls me ‘Lady Margaret’ and he never—he never pets me at all.”
Deirdre shut her eyes briefly.
Damn you, Brookhaven
. Then she slid to her knees next to the child and put an
awkward arm about her bony shoulders. “Your father loves you. He—he went out and found me, didn’t he, just for you!” Which was something she hadn’t wanted to admit to herself, but Meg’s pain was larger and older than hers.
Meggie hesitantly leaned her head upon Deirdre’s shoulder and together they gazed into the coals, but therein lay no answer to the mysteries of Lord Brookhaven’s heart.
Then the toffee was ready. Meggie’s expression at her first bite was priceless. For a while, contented silence reigned. Deirdre did see Meggie secrete a large chunk in the pocket of her grubby pinafore but said nothing. Little children deserved silly treats once in a while.