The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) (5 page)

When he reached Lady Mary, Miss Edgeworth was no longer there.

“I just saw Miss Edgeworth standing here with you. I’ve come to claim my dance with her.”

Lady Mary chewed her lower lip, a habit he’d never noticed before, but found endearing. “Oh, I’m so sorry, my lord, but she spilled champagne on her gown and left for the ladies retiring room to have it cleaned.”

Couples floated past them, swaying and dipping to the lilting strains of a waltz. He held out his hand. “Since my partner is unavailable, may I have the pleasure of this dance, Lady Mary?”

She stared at his palm as if she expected it to speak. Very slowly, she placed her gloved hand in his and raised her eyes to his face.

…

Mary’s heartbeat sped up, and she found it difficult to fill her lungs with air. Redgrave’s hand on her lower back felt as though her skin burned in that spot. She was surrounded by the scent of him. Man, clean linen, and bergamot. She attempted to remain aloof and stare over his shoulder but found her regard wandering back to his face. Each time she did, he was staring intently at her.

“Why are you not married?” The accusatory words almost seemed to rush from his mouth, seemingly afraid if he gave it more thought, the question would remain unasked.

“What an indelicate question, my lord, and one I believe you have asked me before.”

“I thought we agreed to Redgrave and Lady Mary. And you are dodging my question, which has remained unanswered since the last time I asked.”

She drew in a breath and raised her chin. “Perhaps you have no right to ask.”

“I thought every young lady aspired to marry the highest title, the most coins. You are a beautiful woman. You have been raised from infancy to grace the arm of a titled lord, oversee his household, and bear him heirs. You are witty, gracious, and intelligent. You cannot tell me since your debut you have not been swamped with offers.”

“Oh my.” She wrinkled her nose. “You make me sound as though I spent years chasing off suitors with a broom.”

“Haven’t you?” He smirked.

She shrugged. “Perhaps I haven’t met the right man.”

He turned her deftly to avoid colliding with another couple. “Ah, yes. The famous Lacey girls’ requirement that they marry for love.”

“It didn’t work out so well for Abigail, did it?” She spoke softly.

His head snapped back as if she’d slapped him. “I cared for your sister.”

“Indeed? You had a very strange way of showing it.”

His lips tightened. “I cannot say any more on the matter.”

“Cannot or will not?” The Redgrave she’d come to know the last few days did not seem the type to callously leave a young lady he professed to care about practically at the altar. For the first time, Mary began to wonder if there wasn’t more to the story. “And now you are seeking another wife.”

“There is duty to my title.”

“Which of the young ladies has caught your eye?”

“They are so young.”

Mary sighed. “And getting younger every day. There are several ladies who have been out of the schoolroom for more than a year or two, however. Miss Edgeworth, Lady Catherine, Miss Elizabeth Stanton, to name a few.”

“Ah, the elusive Miss Edgeworth who is having her gown cleaned. These are friends of yours? I seem to remember seeing you all gathered together at Remington’s ball.”

“Yes. We’ve been friends for some time now. It seems none of us are able to find what we are looking for.”

“And what is it you are looking for?” His question caught her off guard. What
was
she looking for? She hadn’t completely given up on a husband, home, and family, but unless she overcame her concerns it would forever remain out of her reach.

“I’m looking for happiness. Contentment.”

He bent his head to look her in the face. “Perhaps you’ve been looking in the wrong place.” His deep voice slid down her spine, causing her to shiver. She looked up to meet his gaze and saw something there that moved her. Sympathy, and a sense of commonality. Whatever this man had done to her sister, he had suffered, too.

Chapter Five

Redgrave slammed the ledger shut and rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb. It had been a long morning of going over the accounts for his three estates. His stomach growled, reminding him it had been some hours since his early breakfast, which he was wont to do when he had estate business to deal with.

It would do him well to get out of the house, though it was a dark, gloomy day with clouds that threatened rain. Perhaps after a quick bite he would visit one of his clubs for conversation. He stood and stretched his tight muscles. “Mathers!”

His butler of many years entered the library, his demeanor as stiff and perfect as it had been for the fourteen years he’d served him—since Redgrave had slipped into his father’s place when he’d been a lad of sixteen. Summoned from school on that cold winter day, he’d learned his parents’ death in a carriage accident had catapulted him from his devil-may-care adolescence into the responsibilities of an adult.

After the funeral he had returned to school, but somehow the experience had not been the same. He’d felt afloat in the world. Although he’d not been close to his parents, nevertheless, their absence had left a gaping hole in his life. His guardian had insisted he go on to university, which had been a more pleasant experience. He returned to take up his estate duties at two and twenty, no longer under the guidance of his guardian.

“Please have Cook send in a cold lunch and then have my horse brought around.” He moved to the window and studied the dreary day. Much like his own mood.

The depression and hopelessness that had shrouded him for the years he’d been married to Priscilla had lifted with her death, but his lack of finding a young lady of interest disturbed him. Every time he danced or flirted with a woman, he mentally compared her to Lady Mary.

This girl’s eyes were not as smoky, that girl’s smile not as captivating, this young lady’s giggle was shrill and annoying, compared to Lady Mary’s deep, sultry laugh. No one’s figure was as good, hair as shiny, lips as kissable. He slammed his fist against the window frame. He had to stop doing this. He was here for the purpose of finding a pleasant wife who would bear him sons.

It could not be Lady Mary.

Even dismissing her brother the duke not permitting such a thing, he could not allow his heart to fall for any woman, much less one such as Lady Mary.

He rubbed his face as Mathers entered carrying a tray with cold meat, cheese, and bread. Redgrave made quick work of the fare and left for White’s.

The overhead clouds had begun to break up, with the promise of a bit of sun for the afternoon. His spirits lifted as he rode past the bustling shoppers on Bond Street, ladies wandering along, followed by maids and footmen carrying boxes and parcels. He headed to St. James Street and entered the stables connected to White’s.

The club was busy; a group of rather noisy men surrounded the infamous betting book, with shouts of encouragement as each man wrote his name. There had been a time when he’d enjoyed the thrill of betting on just about anything. At one point, he had bet Lord Draper a considerable sum of money on which raindrop would reach the bottom of the window glass first. He shook his head at his past foolishness.

Lord Bittner waved at him from across the room. After sending a footman for a whiskey, Redgrave settled into the high-back gold, red, and white striped chair across from Bittner. The men sat in silence as the footman placed two glasses on the small table between them.

“How goes your search for a wife?”

Redgrave swallowed the whiskey, relishing the slight burning as the amber liquid traveled to his stomach. “Too soon to say, actually. I’ve met several young ladies. But they all seem so very young.”

Bittner smiled. “Yes. The ones just out of the schoolroom can be ingenuous. But there are plenty of ladies with a few seasons behind them.”

“Yes. There are several.” Redgrave ran his finger over the edge of his glass. “But it will take some time. Don’t want to make a poor decision with which I will have to live.”

His eyebrows raised, Bittner asked, “Do you speak from experience? Since you and Lady Redgrave hid away in the country, I always wondered why the absence from London. If I remember correctly, your wife was quite fond of balls and other entertainments. As were you.”

Redgrave shrugged.

Bittner leaned back and studied him. “What exactly happened back then? To say you took everyone by surprise is a downright understatement.”

“I’m sorry, my lord, but Lady Redgrave lost the babe.” The midwife stood in the library doorway, clutching a sack.

He was numb and avoided her eyes, not wanting to see the misplaced sympathy there. This was the third babe Priscilla had lost. None of them had been his. He ran his hand down his face. “Thank you, Mrs. Bloomsberry. Mathers will see you to your carriage.”

Redgrave entered the bedchamber where Priscilla had spent the last several hours screaming and writhing in pain. She lay on the pillows, her face as pale as the linens, dark circles under her eyes. She moved her head and regarded him. “Happy now? You won’t have to raise my bastard.”

“Just get some rest, Priscilla.”

“I hate you.” She barely got the words out between her cracked, dried lips.

He felt nothing at all. Not even sadness at the death of the innocent babe. He was without emotion. He turned and left the room.

“There is no tale to tell, I’m afraid. It was all as it seemed.” Redgrave downed the rest of his drink, the pleasure he had enjoyed before another memory had washed over him, gone. The bitterness in his stomach burned.

“As you say.” Bittner waved at the footman for two more drinks. “I assume you are part of the investment your former father-in-law is putting together?”

“Investment? No. I’ve not heard of it. But then, I don’t travel in the same circles as Rumbold.”

Bittner learned forward, his voice low. “Rumbold has put together a group to buy a diamond mine in Africa that he’s been told in good faith will produce a fortune once workers are hired.”

Rumbold was a man he didn’t trust, who he found to be unethical, malicious, and willing to do anything, legal or not, to get what he wanted. Consequently, he wouldn’t want to see Bittner invest in anything Rumbold put together.

“Who is this person who told Rumbold, in good faith, that the mine had a fortune in diamonds?”

“He’s not saying. Said if he told someone and word leaked out, it would be bought out from under us.”

Redgrave groaned inwardly. “No, I’m not part of this deal, and to be honest with you, I would be reluctant to join in, if I were you.”

“Why? We could make some serious blunt. A great return on our investment.”

How much to say without actually calling Rumbold a thief? “Have you seen anything about this mine? Any papers, proof that it exists?”

“I’m not stupid, Redgrave. Of course. Rumbold had us all to his house last week and showed us the documents that were sent to him by the current owners, the report from the appraiser on the value of the mine, and even a small diamond that came from there.”

If anything, his skepticism grew. Rumbold was not the smartest of men. It was quite possible he was being duped himself. “If this mine is worth so much why would the owners sell it?”

“Rumbold covered that. He said the group that owns it is tapped out and can’t afford to hire the men to go into the mine and work it. They prefer to take their money now and let someone else take over. That would leave them with the blunt to invest in something else. What Rumbold puts together will be enough to buy the mine outright and hire the men to work it.”

How to dissuade his friend from possibly losing a great deal of money, without coming right out and calling Rumbold a cheat? “What I suggest you do is this. Don’t let Rumbold rush you into anything. Take time to think it over and see if you can get more information on this mine before you plunk your coins down.”

Bittner sat back, studying Redgrave over the rim of his glass. “Maybe I will look a little further into this.”

Redgrave breathed a sigh of relief and downed the rest of his whiskey.

…

“Ouch!” Mary winced as the dressmaker stuck her with a pin.

“Oh, my lady, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.” The young girl looked stricken. Madame Maria, the owner of the shop, who generally took care of her, was busy with another client and, not wishing to wait, Mary had agreed to allow her assistant to substitute.

“It is fine, June, it really didn’t hurt, just took me by surprise.”

“We are almost done. Just a few more adjustments and you will be free to go.”

As much as Mary loved new clothes, she hated the process of attaining them. Choosing fabrics and going through fashion plates was always fun, but the tediousness of standing for hours while gowns were fit and adjusted left her restless and needing activity. Perhaps when she was finished here she would see if Penelope felt up for a ride in Hyde Park. The fresh air would do her good.

The bell over the door to the shop drew her attention as she tugged her gloves on. “Mary!”

Mary looked up as Jeanette Belkin rushed forward, her arms out wide. The girl who had been her playmate growing up grabbed her in a hug that almost had the two of them tumbling to the floor. Mary laughed and drew back. “Jeanette. I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I know. It has been, hasn’t it? Father brought me to London to prepare for my wedding.”

“Wedding! Oh, how wonderful. You must tell me all about it.”

“Miss Belkin,” the young assistant approached them. “We are ready for you, and we have a great deal to finish.”

Jeanette smiled. “Thank you. I will be right with you.” She hugged Mary again. “We must have tea and catch up.”

“Indeed, we must.” Mary fished in her reticule for her card. “Here is my direction. Please do stop by for tea one afternoon. Just send word around when you will be coming.”

“I will. I can’t believe I ran into you here.” She waved at the assistant. “I am ready.” Hugging Mary one more time, she left in the same whirlwind she’d arrived in.

Smiling brightly, Mary left the shop and directed the driver to return her home. Seeing Jeanette raised her spirts considerably. They had been the best of friends as girls. The only daughter of a local baron in Donridge Heath, the village where Manchester Manor was located, they’d taken their lessons together, shared the same dance master along with her sisters, and even revealed secrets contained in their journals.

Once her mother had died, Jeanette had taken over the running of her father’s home and helped with the rearing of her two younger brothers. They had so wanted to make their come-outs together, but Jeanette had been unable to take the time away from her family. Now she had come to London. And for a wedding!

After a short nap to refresh herself for the dinner party that evening, Mary dressed in a blue carriage frock with cream piping and made her way to Penelope’s bedchamber door. She tapped lightly.

“Come in,” her sister-in-law called.

“Well, you are looking a bit better today.” Mary crossed the room and sat alongside her on the settee facing the fireplace. She took Penelope’s hands in hers. “Not quite so tired.”

“Yes, I am having a rather good day. I hope this is the beginning of an easier time.”

“When will Drake return? Has he sent word?”

Penelope shook her head. “No. But Mother has been so good to me. She has passed up a number of events to sit with me in the evenings. I am hoping to grow stronger just so she can have her social life back.”

“Well, are you ready to go? Are you sure this won’t overtire you?”

“I am sure. I need to get out of the house.” She stood and looped her arm in Mary’s, and they walked to the door together.

They chatted as they descended the stairs until Penelope stumbled on the bottom step.

Mary held firm to keep her from falling. Penelope righted herself and adjusted her spectacles as she addressed the butler, Stevens. “Could you please check the carpet? I am sure the tacking is off.”

With the straight face he’d used for years, he bowed slightly. “Of course, Your Grace. I will see to it immediately.”

“Thank you.”

Mary hid her smile as the two of them made their way to the awaiting carriage. Poor Penelope was always tripping on something, stumbling over things, or walking into potted plants. It was one reason why her brother did not like to leave her for too long. When she went on her scientific digs, he followed her around, making sure she didn’t hurt herself. Theirs was a love match Mary envied.

A footman helped them both into the open carriage and instructed the driver to proceed to the park. The fresh air felt good on her face. The morning had been somewhat gloomy, and she had feared they were in store for another rainstorm. Luckily, the clouds had parted and the sun shone on the deep green of the trees and grass as they rode along, beads of water still clinging to leaves.

The path was clogged with other carriages and men on horseback since this was the fashionable hour for the Quality to parade in the park—to see and be seen. They got into line and moved slowly around the path. The sound of horse hooves behind her had her turning to the left. Redgrave rode up alongside them.

Drat. Her heart began to pound again. How foolish. She tried very hard to ignore how well he sat a horse. His powerful thighs controlled the horse as he maneuvered around carriages and other horses to remain by their side.

“Good afternoon, ladies. I see you are enjoying the lovely weather.”

“Yes. It is a pleasant day for a ride.” Mary gestured toward Penelope. “Lord Redgrave, you may remember Her Grace, the Duchess of Manchester. My sister-in-law.”

Penelope offered a warm smile and nodded. Then her smiled faded as her brows drew together and she leaned in close to Mary. “Mary, is that…”