The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) (11 page)

Redgrave lowered his voice and leaned forward. “Henceforth, you are to leave Lady Mary alone. You are not to talk to her, nor even look in her direction.”

Smiling as though he’d anticipated Redgrave’s edict, he said, “Is that so? And what gives you the right to demand such a thing?”

“I give myself the right.”

He paused, then snapped his fingers. “Oh yes, you are Lady Mary’s
friend
,” Claremont drawled.

“That’s right, and as her
friend,
I intend to protect her from the likes of you.”

“How very gallant of you, Redgrave. And do you go around threatening all the gentlemen of the
ton
who you feel are dishonoring the women?”

The arrogant jackanapes was getting close to having his arse meet the ground under him. He had planned to keep this exchange civil, but the more Claremont smirked, the harder it became not to flatten him.

“Since I didn’t mention
dishonoring
Lady Mary, I assume you know why I insist you leave her alone.”

“Ah, yes. I seem to recall something about that. I had anticipated she would be a sweet little piece. But, alas, a cock-teasing bitch, if I remember correctly.”

All the blood in his body raced to his head, and Redgrave exploded, swinging at Claremont’s jaw, the cad’s body leaving the ground and landing a good three feet from where he’d stood. Redgrave reached down and pulled Claremont up by his cravat, punched him in his middle, then clipped him on the chin again.

The man went down like a sack of flour.

Breathing heavily, Redgrave tugged on the cuffs of his shirt and glared at Claremont, the man doubled over and blood seeping from his nose. “Come near her again and I will do even more damage.”

He turned his back on the man and headed to the house. That little bit of a fight hadn’t driven the anger from him that Claremont had given rise to. Redgrave was tempted to go back and drag the man up once again and make sure he really understood he was to leave Mary alone.

His breathing under control, he slipped through the doors to the ballroom just in time for the supper waltz. He moved through the crowd until he saw Miss Belkin and Lady Mary, who was scanning the crowd. Her eyes lit up and she smiled when she spotted him.

“My lady,” he bowed to Miss Belkin. “I believe Claremont was called away and asked me to pass along that information. I will be happy to escort you home when the time comes.”

Lady Mary looked at him strangely. “No, I will see that Miss Belkin goes home with Mother and me.”

He held out his hands to Mary. “Are you ready, my lady?”

“I was beginning to wonder where you got off to.”

“Just taking a leisurely walk in the garden. Lovely evening tonight.”

She took his hand and he led her to the dance floor, then gathered her in his arms. Probably a little too close for propriety, but he was feeling a bit possessive at the moment.

Mine.

Chapter Eleven

A week after the Ashbourne’s ball, Mary and her mother headed to a house party at the country estate of the Marquess of Billingsley and his marchioness. The couple was hosting two dozen people to celebrate the betrothal of their youngest daughter, Prudence, to Lord Stephenson. Since they had an elder, unmarried daughter, Mary couldn’t help but think part of the reason for the house party was to hold captive a few bachelors in the hopes one of them would smile kindly on Genevieve.

Genevieve was of an age with Mary, both of them having had their come-outs the same year. While Mary had resigned herself to remaining an unmarried lady, and grew closer to being “on the shelf” every year, Genevieve had bemoaned her lack of a spouse on many occasions.

Mary had always thought one of the reasons the girl had not received any offers was because of her blatant eagerness to attract a husband. Now with her younger sister betrothed, Mary was certain Genevieve’s eagerness might well turn into desperation. She felt sorry for the men who had been invited.

“Mary!” Her arms extended, Genevieve hurried up to her as Mary descended from her carriage. “And Your Grace,” Genevieve curtsied to the dowager. “I am happy to see you.”

“We are very glad to be here.” Her mother patted Genevieve’s arm and offered her a warm smile. The three women, trailed by Mary and her mother’s maid, Baxter, wandered up the path to Billingsley Manor.

“Your Grace,” Lady Billingsley walked toward them, both her hands extended. “We are so very pleased you have decided to join us.”

“Thank you. We always enjoy your parties.” The older women linked arms, their heads together in conversation.

“Mother has invited several young gentlemen. Perhaps we will meet our future husbands soon.” Genevieve grinned at Mary, who suppressed her sigh. It appeared her inkling was true, and poor Genevieve was even more anxious to join her sister in wedded bliss.

“Perhaps.” They entered the house, already bustling with excitement. Servants scrambled to direct guests to their rooms and see that luggage arrived to the proper bedchambers.

Lady Billingsley turned to Mary and Genevieve. “We have tea on the patio for those who wish refreshment after their trip. I think that is where the young people have gathered. Lady Mary, after you have changed from your travel clothes, you might wish to join them.”

“I would love that. Mother, will you join us?” Mary asked.

“I think I would prefer a tray in my room. I am a bit tired from the journey.”

“Of course” Lady Billingsley said. “A cup of tea and a short rest would be just the thing. One of my footmen will direct you to your bedchambers. If your maid will kindly follow along, you both should be settled in no time at all. I will need to welcome the rest of the guests, but I will see you at dinner, Your Grace.”

“Oh, please, Gertrude. We have been friends since we were girls. You should address me as Evelyn, or better yet, Eve.”

Mary studied her mother, who had always been referred to as “my dear” by her father, “Mother” by her children, and “Your Grace” by everyone else. She never really thought of her mother as Evelyn, or Eve. Is that what happened to women when they married and had a family? They no longer had their own identity? Sad, that.

Genevieve chatted with Mary the entire way to the bedchamber assigned her and continued on while Mary changed into a pale pink day dress. She waxed poetic about the gentlemen expected and what her chances were with each one. The girl was definitely on the prowl for a husband. Hopefully, her search wouldn’t make things unpleasant for the guests.

Mary kept silent, waiting for Genevieve to mention Redgrave, yet didn’t want to ask about him. Her toilette completed, they left the bedchamber area arm in arm, greeting other guests arriving as they made their way to the patio.

The terrace was lively with small groups sipping tea and chatting. The betrothed couple stood along the balustrade, accepting well wishes from guests. Lady Prudence smiled as each guest approached them, but it was obvious to anyone who looked closely that the girl was not exactly thrilled. She held her body stiff, her smile strained. When her betrothed leaned down to speak with her, she regarded him with coolness. No love match there. Most likely another typical
ton
business arrangement marriage.

Lord Grayson and Lord Draper broke from their group and approached Mary and Genevieve. “Ladies, two more beauties to add to the party,” Grayson said as he bowed and took Mary’s hand in his. “It is always a pleasure to see you, Lady Mary.” He turned to Genevieve. “And you as well, Lady Genevieve.”

Genevieve giggled and Mary groaned inwardly. Surely they were past the age of giggling. “My lords,” Mary said and dipped her head.

“I say, Lady Genevieve, who else will be joining us?”

Genevieve cast a glance around the patio. “I still don’t see Lady Catherine, or Miss Amelia Smythe.”

“I believe Redgrave is attending also,” Draper said. “In fact, it looks as though he’s arrived.” He waved in the direction of the patio doors.

Mary’s heart took a leap, and she tried unsuccessfully to pretend his presence at the house party meant nothing to her.

It didn’t work.

“Redgrave, good to see you, man.” Grayson nodded.

She knew he stood behind her without turning around. The now familiar scent of bergamot, horses, and starched linen surrounded her. Her body tingled, and butterflies took up residence in her stomach. Her awareness of everything surrounding her increased. The air was crisper, the flowers along the edge of the patio, brighter. But all conversation on the patio receded until the only thing she heard was Redgrave’s voice.

“Grayson, Draper. I’m glad to be here.” Redgrave moved into their circle and looked first at Genevieve. “Lady Genevieve, you are looking lovely, as usual.” He bowed over her extended hand.

He turned to Mary. “Lady Mary, I had hoped you would be attending. Is Her Grace with you, as well?”

“Yes. She is resting in her room.” Thankfully her voice came out normal, despite her dry mouth. This was ridiculous. Even when she’d been fascinated with Claremont—before he’d turned into such a scoundrel—she had never had this reaction to the man.

“I hope she is not ill?” His piercing gaze had the butterflies in her stomach dancing a lively cotillion.

She offered him a slight smile, hoping the flush she felt on her face was not visible to all. “No, merely tired from the trip. She will be joining us for dinner.”

He continued to stare at her. “Ah. I shall plan on wishing her a pleasant visit.”

“I am sure she would like that.”

“As will I.”

Silence descended on the group, until Grayson said, “Well. It seems the rest of us have been forgotten, eh?”

Mary’s gaze swung from Redgrave to Grayson, who regarded the two of them with a puzzled expression.
Whatever am I thinking?
By dinnertime rumor would have them practically betrothed and headed to Gretna Green.

…

Redgrave snapped his attention away from Mary.
What the devil is wrong with me?
Just the sweet scent of her, of lemon and roses, along with her smile, had been enough to mesmerize him…again. He was a man, grown. Once married and now widowed. Not a randy youth panting after the milkmaid. He needed to get himself under control. Certainly he could spend time with the girl without imagining all sorts of ways he could kiss her.

“I could use a cup of tea,” Mary said and turned to Lady Genevieve. Had he imagined it, or was her face flushed?

“I believe I will join you.” Redgrave walked with the two women to where a footman staffed a tea cart, convincing himself he could spend time with Mary and not be affected by her. There was an array of small sandwiches and tea cakes to go along with the tea. He took his cup in hand and passed on the food.

“Mother has tables set up on the north side of the patio.” Genevieve led the way to a quieter area with several tables, only two of them occupied.

“My lord, I am glad you were able to join us. Mother was so very happy to have a nice group to celebrate my sister’s betrothal.” Genevieve settled in her seat as Redgrave held out Mary’s chair for her. “She has many games and entertainments planned. I think it will be a lovely party.”

“I am honored to be included.” He took a sip of tea, trying very hard not to stare at Mary. The gentle breeze on the patio set her wisps of loosened hair dancing. The pale pink day dress she wore displayed the tops of her enticing breasts to perfection. The sparkle in her eyes and slight flush to her cheeks had him wondering if she was as affected by him as he was by her.

“My lord, the games Mother is planning this evening require partners. May I request you partner me?” Lady Genevieve managed to refrain from giggling, much to his relief.

“Of course, my lady, I will be honored.” Except he would not be honored, because he would much rather partner with Mary, no matter what the entertainment was.

Lady Genevieve clapped her hands. “Wonderful. I am sure we will be a formidable force.”

He’d always liked Lady Genevieve, but disliked her forward manner. One of the reasons, he supposed, that she had remained unmarried. She didn’t have a difficult face to look at, and her form was acceptable, but there was something about her that reeked of over-eagerness.

He glanced at Mary, who was attempting to hide her smile behind her teacup. “And you, Lady Mary. Who will be your partner this evening? Will you also be a formidable force?”

“I am not sure, my lord. This is the first I’ve heard of the games. No doubt one of the other gentlemen will be willing to take me on.”

He choked on his sip of tea. Just the thought of “taking Mary on” left him imagining things that had nothing to do with parlor games and everything to do with bed games. Best to get his mind away from those thoughts.

They chatted amicably for a while, Genevieve blatantly flirting with Redgrave. Mary stood and brushed her skirts. “If you will excuse me, I believe I will retire to my bedchamber. It seems I, too, am a bit weary from our journey.”

“I will accompany you, my lady. I want to be sure my valet has finished his unpacking.” It was a poor excuse, to be sure, but the only one he could come up with.

“Mother would not be happy if I disappeared, so I believe I will rejoin the others on the patio. I will see you both at dinner.” Lady Genevieve gave a slight curtsy and headed to the area they’d just left.

Redgrave extended his elbow toward Mary. The bright smile she gave him as she rested her palm on his arm warmed him more than the early summer sun.

They walked into the house and up the stairs to the bedchambers, comfortable in their silence. “I am this way,” Mary waved toward the east wing as they gained the second level.

“Ah, Lady Billingsley very cleverly put the gentlemen in the west wing.” He turned toward the east wing. “I will see you safely to your door.”

Mary laughed, the light tinkle so very different from Lady Genevieve’s giggle. “I doubt I will be accosted in the corridor, my lord.”

“Redgrave,” he reminded her. “We are well beyond the ‘my lord and my lady,’ are we not?”

She dipped her head in acquiescence. Once they arrived at her door, she turned to him. “Thank you for the safe passage. I will see you at dinner.”

Unable to help himself, he cupped her chin in his hand, running his thumb over the smooth, porcelain skin of her cheek. “I look forward to it. Very much.” His head descended and he took her lips in a tender kiss. “Until later.”

He turned on his heel and headed to the west wing.

…

Mary entered the bedchamber as Baxter was just finishing unpacking. Thank goodness the maid hadn’t come out the door when Redgrave had her in his arms. If this kept up, they were going to get caught, and Drake would likely send her off to a convent.

Once Baxter left, Mary climbed onto the bed and turned onto her back, staring at the canopy overhead. Running her tongue over her lips, she still tasted Redgrave. She sniffed the air, sure she could still smell his scent. Maybe she was merely going crazy. The man was driving her to Bedlam.

Three hours later she knocked at her mother’s bedchamber door.

“Come,” her mother called.

The dowager duchess sat at the dressing table, Baxter finishing up her hair. “Mother, you look lovely.”

She smiled. “Thank you, my dear. However, I am much too old for ‘lovely.’ You, on the other hand,
are
lovely.”

Mary brushed Baxter’s hands away and fastened her mother’s necklace, looking at her in the mirror. “Don’t be ridiculous. You are not old, and you are, in fact, lovely.”

“Those days are far behind me,” her mother said as she tugged on her gloves. “Shall we join the others for dinner?”

They met several more guests headed to the drawing room to wait for the dinner announcement. Mary immediately joined Genevieve, who stood with several of the younger guests, including Prudence and her betrothed.

“May I offer my felicitations, Lady Prudence? And you as well, my lord?”

“Thank you.” Prudence looked anything but happy.

On the other hand, Lord Stephenson smiled warmly as he took her hand and bowed over it. “Thank you, Lady Mary. We are very happy you were able to join us.”

They chatted for a while, then Mary and Genevieve moved away. “Whatever is wrong with your sister?” Mary leaned in close as they walked about the room.

“I have no idea. Stephenson offered for her, and Father accepted. Apparently, Prudence had her eye on another gentleman—who she won’t name—and didn’t want to be forced into marriage with Stephenson.”

Mary settled on a chair near the fireplace, arranging her skirts. “I don’t know him very well, but he seems like a pleasant man. He is titled, wealthy, and fairly good-looking.”

“Prudence is being stupid. I would marry Stephenson in a heartbeat.” Genevieve sighed. “If only he had offered for me instead.”

Mary knew the moment Redgrave entered. The very air in the room seemed to electrify. It amazed her that no one else noticed.

“Redgrave is quite nice looking. I’m surprised you two seem to be friends. Isn’t he the one who ran out on one of your sisters?” Genevieve studied him as he made his way across the room, stopping to greet several people, but always moving forward toward them.