Her mind skipped to the man who had rescued her and his warm eyes, charming grin and hideously appealing arms. A man like Bernie paled in comparison to him.
She shook the thought away. A man like the stranger would hurt her, break her heart. Probably ruin her too. She’d met too many like him and she knew exactly how rakes like him behaved. No, it was far safer to continue this non-courtship with Bernie.
“You know—” She paused and peered around the gardens. “Mary-Anne?” She twisted, looking toward the trees that ran alongside the path. “Mary-Anne?”
Curses. How had she slipped away without her noticing? Blast that stranger. He had let her get all tangled up inside for no reason at all. She had only seen the man for a matter of minutes and would likely never see him again. How could he have her so preoccupied?
“Mary-Anne?” she tried again, peering into the shadows between the trees for any sign of her. The gap between her and the rest of the women widened, and Lucinda blew out a breath. She knew precisely where her sister had gone.
Why oh why could she not, for once in her life, behave?
Pivoting on her heel, Lucinda marched back the way they had come, following a path alongside a huge lake. Scattered along the path were stone benches and the occasional statue. Even a temple could be seen from here on the opposite side of the lake. The gardens were elegant, simple and most likely came at a huge cost. However, she had little time to appreciate them. Not when her sister was likely stealing into a house in which she had not been invited.
“I am going to string you up, Mary-Anne,” she muttered, stomping up the gravel path toward the grand house.
She spied the servant’s entrance, tucked into the bottom of the building, then the rear one, up a flight of stone steps. Knowing her sister, she would take the boldest entrance and the one that was most likely to lead to the armory. Glancing around, Lucinda hastened up the steps, inched open the glass door and slipped into a generous, practically empty room.
Empty that was, apart from one person.
Her rescuer.
Chapter Five
“Oh.”
Alex allowed himself a slow smile. When not splayed out on a rock, Lucy looked a little less wild and rather more prim.
Not that the high fichu and simple cut of her gown distracted him from her attractiveness. In fact, it was rather the opposite. If her intention had been to appear plain, the dull nature of her garments ensured one’s attention strayed to her soft, petal pink lips, slightly rosy cheeks and wide eyes surrounded by that pretty halo of red curls.
She swiftly twisted around and fumbled for the door in a bid to escape.
She would not be escaping. Not if he could help it.
He took a few steps forward and put his hand to the latch of the door.
Her startled gaze met his and her brow furrowed. “I should not be here,” she admitted.
“I know.”
“What are you doing here anyway?”
He debated toying with her for a moment, but he found himself oddly unable to. Something about the depths of those blue eyes sucked him in, made him want to spill all his truths. Not that he had many. The life of a marquis tended to be laid bare for anyone to see. As was shown by her presence here. Privacy did not exist for a lord.
“I live here.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened further. “Oh!” She glanced around a few times. “You are one of the marquis’s brothers?”
He let his smile expand. “Not quite.”
She narrowed her gaze. “A guest then?”
“No.”
He took a little step back and glanced briefly at the portrait on the wall behind him. She scowled, following his gaze, and gasped. “You’re the marquis?”
“For my sins, yes.”
“Oh dear.” She dropped into a deep curtsey. “Please forgive me, and my intrusion. I will just be—” She tried to turn around again, but he blocked her exit. She kept her head bowed.
“Considering we were not formally introduced, Lucy, I hardly think I can blame you.”
Her head snapped up, her cheeks reddening. “You should not call me that,” she hissed. “Someone might hear.”
“I believe we are entirely alone.” He gestured around the empty entranceway. Their only company was a few stone pillars, the bloody awful portrait his mother had commissioned upon his ascension to marquis and some large plants in each corner of the room.
“That’s even worse!”
“In case you did not notice, you were the one to enter here alone. I am simply guilty of taking a stroll through my house.”
“I was looking for my sister,” she admitted softly.
“Mary-Anne?”
She nodded. “She wanted to see your armory.”
Alex lifted his brows. “She is young. What interest could she have in the armory?”
“She’s fourteen,” Lucy concurred. “And she has rather a desire to see all things medieval. It’s my fault I’m afraid.”
“It’s your fault she is interested in a certain period of history? How does that happen?”
“I have—had I suppose—rather a passion for it myself. I used to study the era.”
“Had?”
“Well, one has to grow up at some point, do they not?”
He eyed her for a moment. What was it that had caused this woman to believe she had to grow out of her passions? He knew the fear—the worry that all things fun and interesting would be lost to responsibility and boredom, which was precisely why he had run for the mountains—literally—upon the death of his wife. But it seemed almost as though this woman had done it deliberately. What would cause a pretty young lady to consign herself to a life of boredom?
“Growing up is extremely overrated.”
“Well, you would say that,” she snapped back. “You are precisely the sort who will never grow up.” She paused, put a hand to her mouth and then dropped into another curtsey. “Forgive me, my lord. That is—”
He touched her elbow, urging her to straighten. “Considering our meeting yesterday, I’d rather you call me Alex.”
“Alex?”
“My name?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She peered around and leaned in, dropping her voice to a whisper. “But we still have not been formally introduced.”
He chuckled. “That will be our secret.”
Her cheeks colored again, and he considered how he might like to have more secrets with her. He had a few already, after all. He knew what her waist felt like beneath his hands and he still recalled the scent of her when up close. Soap and a little lavender.
“I suppose we had better find your sister then.”
Though a strong part of him would rather have Miss Lucy Evans to himself.
Ridiculous really. He could have his fill of women when he returned to London and he had kept his promise to his mother. However, he could not recall any woman being quite as fascinating as Lucy.
She looked toward the gardens and then her shoulders dropped, and she gave a slight nod. “I suppose we had better.”
“Do not worry, I shall not bite.”
Lucy’s lips spread into a thin line. “I did not think you would, my lord.”
He offered a wry smile. Most women could not wait to get him alone. Perhaps that was part of her appeal. But he wasn’t foolish enough to fall for that. He’d seen many a man chase the unattainable and make an utter buffoon of himself. The Marquis of Kirbeck did not chase.
Though, he supposed he could be persuaded to trail after her just a tiny bit.
“At least not hard,” he murmured.
“Pardon?”
“Not a thing.” He smiled broadly. “Shall we?” He gestured toward the righthand door. “The armory is this way.”
He saw her throat work and then she gave a tiny incline of her head and marched regally to the door. Alex chuckled to himself and followed.
So much for not chasing.
∞∞∞
“WELCOME TO EASTWICK Hall armory.”
She forced her gaze from the weaponry and scanned the room. “I see no sign of my sister.”
“Neither do I, unless she’s hiding somewhere.”
He strolled the long red carpet, peering behind suits of armor, his hands clasped behind him. She should have known he was titled. He behaved with all the self-assurance of a man who had never been denied anything.
Which was precisely why she needed to escape as soon as possible.
Not that she risked falling into his lure, of course. For one, she doubted a man like him had any interest in a woman like her. She’d made sure of that. Men found little appeal in her manner of dress or how she conducted herself these days. But, regardless, she had spent long enough controlling her own behaviors for her to come completely undone by the mere presence of a handsome rake.
“Mary-Anne,” she called, “do come out.”
She followed Alex to the end of the room and stopped by the horse’s armor, unable to resist marveling at the size and complexity of it. “It must have taken forever to fit.”
“I suspect it was more for display than practicality. Used during ceremonies mostly.”
She nodded. “Yes, it would be entirely impractical to wear during battle. It looks to be from the fourteenth century?”
He glanced at her. “However did you know that?”
Her cheeks heated at the admiring glint to his eyes. “I had a passion for the medieval if you recall.”
“I imagined it was a passing interest, considering you made a point of saying you were no longer interested in it. But it appears otherwise. Why do you say had?”
Lucinda shrugged, trying not to feel pleased he had recalled their exceedingly brief conversation of her interests. “A grown woman has better things to do with her time than read about history.”
“Like what?”
She blinked a few times. “Well, like...like looking after my sister for one.” She blew out a breath. “It seems I have done a poor job of that today.”
The door to the armory opened and Mary-Anne stumbled in followed by a man of similar age to Alex. His looks were akin to the marquis’s too with a strong jawline, but he was slightly taller and his hair a shade darker. “Looking for this?”
“Mary-Anne!” Lucinda gasped. “What were you thinking?”
The man grinned. “Found her in the ballroom.”
“I got lost,” Mary-Anne protested.
Alex strode over, an eyebrow arched, and peered down at her sister. Mary-Anne met his gaze, her chin jutted forward. “You were only invited to the gardens.”
“I got separated from the ladies and did not know where to go.” She affected a pout. “I was scared and needed aid.”
The man’s grin widened as did Alex’s. “So you did not wish to see the armory then?”
“Well, I would not mind...” Mary-Anne wound her hands together in front of her. “Seeing as I am here.”
“Mary-Anne, you are being horribly rude,” Lucinda hissed.
Alex waved a hand. “Seeing as you are both here, why do we not give you a proper tour?”
Mary-Anne gave a triumphant grin. “See? I knew we would be welcome.”
“You might have asked rather than sneaking in,” Alex suggested.
Her sister made a dismissive noise. “I did not sneak.”
The man Lucinda assumed was one of his brothers shook his head. “There was certainly sneaking involved.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Lucinda muttered.
The man set his gaze upon her and bowed his head. “My brother has been careless and failed to introduce us. Lord Adam Moncrieff, at your service.”
She dipped and managed to bite back a remark about how no one in their family seemed to abide by the rules of proper introduction. “Miss Evans. And this is my sister, Miss Mary-Anne Evans.”
“We have been introduced.” He chuckled. “In a way.”
“Were these swords used in battle?” Mary-Anne asked, pointing toward a display of great swords.
“Most certainly,” Alex said. “See this one?” He gestured to the largest. “Our great-great grandfather used it at the Battle of Malplaquet. Apparently he could slice a man’s head clean from—”
“That will do!” Lucinda lifted a hand.
Mary-Anne stared at the sword, wide-eyed. “Can I hold it?”
“Certainly not!” Lucinda protested.
“Perhaps Adam will do the honors?” Alex suggested.
His brother nodded, stepped over the rope dividing the display from the floor. “Of course.”
“I really do not think—”
Adam reached to pluck the sword from the wall.
Lucinda pressed fingers to her temples. “This is going to end terribly.”
Adam handed the sword to Mary-Anne and it clanged to the floor.
Mary-Anne made a face, wrinkling her freckled nose. “Oops.”
“It’s incredibly heavy and unwieldy,” Alex said. “I suspect either our relative was a huge man or the stories of beheadings were false.”
Mary-Anne fought to lift the sword. “I think I could take a man’s head off if I tried hard enough.”
Adam shook his head and stepped back. “I like my head where it is thank you very much.” He waited for her to lower it and aided her in lifting the weapon and then swinging it a few times.
“Your brother is a patient man,” she murmured to Alex. “Not many have the time for Mary-Anne. She can be…exhausting.”
“She seems fun.”
Unlike her. That’s what everyone said. No doubt Alex had noticed that too. But fun only put one at risk. She feared one day Mary-Anne would find out fun was not always worth it, especially when one risked utter ruin. She only hoped she could protect her from such a situation.
“Why do you purse your lips at the mention of fun?”
Blast. She met his inquisitive gaze. “Life isn’t about fun.”
“What is it about then?”
“Well…responsibility. And, and—” She paused. “You must know all about responsibility, surely?”
“I do and if I did not balance it out with fun, I would likely be addled out of my wits.”
She rolled her eyes before she could stop herself.
“What was that look for?”
She drew in a breath. “It is easy for a man to speak of entertainments and fun. They do not suffer the consequences of it.”
His smile dropped a little. “I take it you have experienced the consequences.”
“Some,” she admitted.
Curses, why did she confess to such a thing? Her past had been buried for a long time now, tucked away underneath thick fichus and shapeless dresses and a generally dull but impeccable existence. For some reason, the way he looked at her made her want to confess all of her sins, past and present.
Not that she had many from the present and for one second, she almost wished she had some. Or at least one.
A kiss from a handsome rake perhaps?
No. She twisted away from him and took Mary-Anne’s arm. “I think we have taken up enough of the lord’s time. We had better leave. Give Lord Adam the sword back please.”
“It’s quite all right,” Adam protested but Lucinda snatched the heavy weapon and returned it.
“My mother will notice we are missing before long.” Lucinda looped her arm through Mary-Anne’s and hauled her toward the door, aware of Alex’s amused expression. “Please forgive our intrusion,” she called over her shoulder. “It will not be repeated.”
And with any luck, she’d never set eyes on that rake
again.
There was something far, far too wicked in his eyes, and far, far too appealing.
Chapter Six
“We should not be here.”
Adam lifted a brow at Alex. “Are you becoming dull with age, old man?”
Alex fixed his brother with a look as they paused by the lakeside. The swarms of women had yet to abate and, if anything, new ladies had arrived in the past week. Avoiding the opposite sex was harder than sneaking from a widow’s bed without being noticed by the gossips.
“If we are to abide by our mother’s ruling, it would be a darned sight easier without being surrounded by petticoats.”
Alex gestured vaguely to the various clusters of women promenading around the lake. The excellent weather had brought them out in abundance and the usually serene aura of the town vanished under a cluster of parasols and muslin. Typically, Alex would find little to complain about but if he, the damned head of the family, could not keep his word, then how could he expect his brothers to?
Especially when a specific redhead kept playing in his mind.
The woman was somewhat of a conundrum. Pretty enough to have been snatched up long ago with a quick mind too but with some kind of secret. God help him if he did not want to find out what that was.
“He’s definitely getting dull,” said Leo.
“I’m merely trying not to distress our mother any further,” Alex pointed out.
“And we will not,” agreed Adam. “But that does not mean we need to remain recluses.”
“What harm could a stroll around the lake do?” Leo’s tone remained light, but he noted his brother’s gaze darting about as though looking for someone.
“Knowing you two, a lot.” Alex had the distinct feeling Leo had already found himself tangled with a woman. His brother had suffered heartbreak years ago and had plunged headfirst into every flirtation he could find after that, so it did not surprise him. However, Leo had promised Alex he would behave himself for their mother’s sake. The woman had put on a wonderful show of tears and being in delicate health that none of them could argue against her.
Adam scoffed. “You are no better, Brother. Where do you think we learned it from?”
The Tempting of a Devilish Lord (The Lords of Scandal Row Book 2) Page 4