Earl of Darby: (Once Upon a Widow #4) (Wicked Earls’ Club Round 2)

by Aubrey Wynne

  “You don’t approve of marriage?”

  “Of course I do! Marriage is a wonderful institution for some. I tried it, enjoyed it, and moved on to the next adventure.”

  “So, no regrets?”

  “Ah, that’s a tricky question. One always has regrets. More to the point, would I do it the same way again?” Aunt Bertie nodded, her dimple deepening. “Without a doubt.”

  Chapter Three

  “Never will I give my hand where my heart does not accompany it.”

  Ann Radcliffe

  * * *

  “I left my card at Darby’s townhouse,” Nathaniel informed the ladies next morning at breakfast. “I went for an early ride, before Rotten Row was crowded, and stopped by on my way back.”

  “And Lord Stanfeld?” asked Hannah. She’d prefer to see Gideon first.

  “He won’t be back to Town until the session begins. He’s been busy at home with his mother and company. Perhaps you should focus your attention elsewhere.” His tone was insistent and meant to put his sister off.

  “Oh, piffle! He’s not even betrothed. If I ever believe him to be in love with another, then I’ll sample the other pies.” She giggled at the horrified look on her brother’s face.

  “She didn’t get that from me. I did not tell her anything about wares and sampling.” Lady Roberta defended herself. “I only mentioned that testing the waters can be a wise thing. One never knows what sort of man is compatible until one has met that particular type.”

  Nathaniel opened his mouth, closed it, then took a sip of his coffee. “I think I already need something stronger added to this. Fortification for the day.”

  “What is the schedule for today, nephew?” She rubbed her hands together. “I so enjoy meeting new people.”

  “As I said, I’ve left my card at Darby’s, so he’s first on the list. I’m hoping his mother can get vouchers to Almack’s.”

  “Oh, yes, Mother said I must be seen there.” Hannah slathered the thick cream cheese on her bread and sank her teeth into it. Sooo good. Talking around her mouthful, she asked, “Aunt Bertie, you can’t inquire about Almack’s?”

  Silence. The only sound was Hannah chewing her bread and cheese. Then both Aunt Bertie and Nathaniel burst out in loud guffaws.

  “Oh, my dear, you are a cake. While I was only denied a voucher for a short time, my influence has still not improved.” She bit her bottom lip, the laugh lines around her brown eyes deepening as she chuckled. “I raised a bit of a breeze there when I was younger. If those walls could whisper, there’d be some ears pressed against them.”

  “It seems there is much I don’t know about London and my own aunt.” Hannah put her nose up. “I expect to be educated on all of your stories before the end of the season.”

  “My pleasure, sweet niece,” agreed her aunt.

  “This may be the longest week of my life,” groaned Nathaniel. He stood and wiped a few crumbs from his olive-green waistcoast. The buckskin breeches had a coffee stain on the right leg, and he cursed softly as he tried to wipe it off with his napkin. “Dash it all! Now I’ll have to change.”

  “Such a fuss over nothing.” Hannah waved a finger at him. “We have to change clothes sometimes three times a day, so don’t expect any sympathy from us.”

  “I think he misses his wife and pretty little stepdaughter,” added Aunt Bertie.

  With a snort, Nathaniel tossed the napkin back on the table. “We will depart by three o’clock. I’ll have the carriage brought round, so please be ready.” He managed a stern glare at Hannah. “I mean it, promptly at three.”

  “Of course, I’m always punctual.”

  Aunt Bertie and Nathaniel shared another look, another burst of laughter.

  “Well, I try anyway,” she admitted with a pout.

  “We leave in quarter of an hour, dear,” announced Aunt Bertie from the other side of the room. “Do not give your brother reason to gloat.”

  Hannah smoothed out the pale-rose skirt. The white cotton walking dress had a modest neckline with puce Vandyke points of lace that repeated in a double row at the calf and again along the hem. A satin ribbon matching the lace adorned the waist, with a redingote of the same color over the dress. The double layer of petticoats would keep her warm in the chilly November temperatures, along with her gloves. Now for her hair.

  Her maid fretted behind her, a silver brush in one hand and combs in the other. “Please, Miss, we don’t have much time.”

  Hannah sat down with a sigh and gazed at the mirror. Her dark honey-colored waves hung loose down her back. Within ten minutes, the efficient lady’s maid had swept her mistress’s hair up into a loose chignon, attached a ribbon matching the one on her dress, and pulled out curls to frame her face. Wrapping two longer strands from the back around the curling tongs, she laid each warm curl over Hannah’s shoulders.

  Another rap at the door, and then Aunt Bertie entered. “Pish and a pox on you, girl, if you aren’t ready. We must get down those stairs now.” Her aunt stood, clutching her gray embroidered reticule, a slate redingote over her pale-lavender day dress. She patted her own simple chignon, pulled back with only a few curls in front of her ears. “I hate that smug look Nathaniel wears every time you are late.”

  “I’m well aware of my brother’s condescending looks,” she said, thanking her maid quietly and pulling on her gloves. “Are we ready for our next adventure?”

  “Indeed!”

  They’d just arrived in the entrance hall when Nathaniel appeared from the drawing room.

  “Well, I’ll be hornswoggled.” Her brother gave a low whistle, surprise in his eyes as he and the footman helped them on with their wool pelisses. He donned his greatcoat over fawn-colored breeches and gleaming Hessians. Placing the beaver hat over his burnt umber curls, he added, “Either you are excited to meet the acquaintance of your first London friend, or Aunt Bertie is a good influence on you.” He held out both arms to escort the ladies to their conveyance as the butler held open the entrance door. “You both look lovely, by the way.”

  “I believe it’s a bit of both,” answered Hannah as they descended the few steps and walked between the wrought-iron fence to the pavement. “You know how competitive Aunt is, and she hates anyone having a leg up on her.”

  The gleaming black carriage, with the Pendleton crest of gold on the side, was led by a pair of matching bays snorting white puffs into the chilly afternoon air. It seemed a busy time of day, for two town coaches and barouche stood ready along the terrace. Settling back against the cushioned squabs, Hannah smiled. It was a lovely day. The sun shone, and the green topiaries behind the iron fences seemed to beckon to her as the carriage lurched forward and into the traffic.

  She gripped the leather strap and bent forward, looking at the houses they passed, marveling at the size of some of the structures. Her aunt provided a steady stream of commentary of who lived where, who had previously rented and who now occupied a residence, along with other interesting tidbits about the personages of Mayfair. They left the neighborhood of Berkeley and soon entered Hanover Square, passing by St. George’s.

  The driver called to the horses and they slowed, approaching a crescent of townhouses made of a pale-yellow limestone. Nathaniel led them up to a deep red entrance door, flanked by pillars and a carved pineapple above the threshold. Bow windows graced each side, and Hannah marveled at the size of the entrance hall.

  Their heels clicked on the polished marble floor as they were led into the drawing room by a stiff butler. The drawing room was large and square with dark paneled walls, heavy velvet drapes pulled back to allow the sunlight to fill the room. Overstuffed chairs were clustered around the room, with the largest group facing an intricately embroidered chaise longue. The Axminster carpet was thick and plush beneath their feet, and the entire room bespoke wealth.

  A petite young girl sat in a huge leather chair by the fireplace, a book open in her lap. She quickly closed the cover and stood to greet them, pulling down the skirt
of her yellow primrose muslin as she rose. Behind them a deep voice instructed the butler.

  “We will expect tea within the half hour. Lady Darby will not be attending us this afternoon. She has the megrim and is requesting chamomile tea in her room.”

  His deep timbre sent a warmth rushing through Hannah. As she turned to meet their host, she caught his eye and he smiled. Her breath caught.

  “Pendleton, it’s good to see you!”

  “And you,” said Nathaniel, as he leaned forward and shook his friend’s hand. “I’d like you to meet my sister, Miss Hannah Pendleton, and I believe you met my Lady Roberta before?”

  Aunt Bertie elbowed Hannah, reminding her to breathe as her aunt put her hand forward and nodded in acknowledgment of the introduction. Darby bowed over each lady’s gloved hand.

  “My pleasure,” he said, lifting his translucent calamine-blue eyes to Hannah. He had waves of sun-gold hair that shone even in the dim room. “And may I introduce my sister, Lady Matilda.”

  When Matilda joined them, Hannah had to pull her gaze from his, mesmerized by the odd translucent shade of a clear summer sky.

  “It is a pleasure to meet any friends of my brother.” Her voice was soft, neither shy nor confident. Matilda pushed a blonde lock, the shade of evening primrose, from her forehead. “I apologize for my mother’s absence.” She gripped her book, her white knuckles betraying her calm tone.

  Hannah’s heart went out to the girl. “Is that by Maria Edgeworth? Have you read many of her books? I so enjoyed her novel, Leanora.”

  A grateful smile curled the girl’s lips. “Oh, yes. That’s why I purchased Castle Rackrent. Have you read it?”

  “No, I haven’t. Perhaps I could borrow it when you finish?”

  “Oh, yes. Do you read any biographies?”

  “Egad! Please don’t tell me we have two bluestockings on our hands,” Nathaniel said with a laugh.

  “My sister has her nose in a book most of the time.” Darby grinned, the dimple in his cheek deepening. “She’s indiscriminate and will read anything from a scientific journal to a romantic novel.”

  Hannah’s eyes snapped back to the earl’s face. She had the strangest urge to step closer, reach up, and trace her finger along the cleft in his chin. Wings had taken flight in her belly. What was happening? While Gideon had always sent her stomach into a tumble, she’d never experienced a flock of birds flapping inside her.

  It must be exhaustion from the trip. Or those captivating eyes. Or the dimple that begged her to press her lips to his cheek. Or the stretch of his jacket across those broad shoulders and the thigh-hugging buckskin breeches. Stop being a buffleheaded romantic, she scolded herself.

  Aunt Bertie looked at Hannah, then gave Darby an appreciative perusal. “Lud! This will be a delicious season. Let’s sit down and get to know one another, shall we?”

  Nicholas opened the shutter and saw the guests arriving. “Another one of your sudden megrims? How convenient.” Dealing with his mother always put him in a dudgeon. “These agues always seem to come upon you whenever you are avoiding a situation.”

  “Please give Lady Pendleton and her daughter my regards, and I hope to see them at another engagement,” replied an unaffected Lady Darby, tugging the nightcap firmly over her graying chignon, her light blue eyes narrowed. “I’m certain I will recover soon. Please remember this was your idea, not mine.”

  “I beg your pardon?” He turned from the window and strode to the bed. “You want me to tag along during Mattie’s come-out, enduring the rounds of social events, so I can point out the rakes that I’ve come across.”

  “You would know of any secrets the young men hide better than most, with the circles you frequent.” She held his glare. “I don’t want any surprises once Matilda is betrothed.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, laying his fists on the mattress and leaning close to his mother. “We both know how that can spoil one’s wedding night.”

  “I have apologized for five years. Short of announcing my part in the plot at court or shouting it from the rooftop of St. Paul’s, I cannot express my regret any more than I have.” She lifted her chin, an air of authority coming over her. “Now, please go down and see to your guests.”

  He didn’t budge. “What I’d like to know is why you are avoiding Pendleton?”

  “I’m not. It’s his mother I’m not quite ready to face.” She picked at a thread on the counterpane. “I was quite…active with the on-dits following her husband’s death. I’m not proud of it, but I was jealous.”

  “Jealous of Lady Pendleton?” This was a new revelation coming from his tight-lipped mother. Perhaps she was ill. “For what reason?”

  She hesitated then blew out a long breath. “I was young and fancied myself in love with the viscount—before he inherited the title. We all thought she would marry the older brother but then he was killed in that terrible carriage accident. It was before I’d met the earl, of course.”

  Nicholas sat down, dumbfounded. “You held a torch for Nathaniel’s father?”

  His mother remained silent, a sullen look turning down the corners of her mouth. “I had convinced myself that she was his ruin and didn’t love him. With me, he would have remained faithful and not been caught in the marquess’ bed.”

  “So a decade later, you attain revenge from a horrified widow, in the midst of a scandal, to soothe your vanity?”

  “I said I wasn’t proud of it, but I watched the joy fade from his eyes the longer he was married to her,” she mumbled with a sniff. “She drove him into another woman’s bed, a married woman, mind you, and then loudly proclaimed her scorn for him to save her own reputation. She shamed him into going through with the duel, knowing he was a terrible marksman.”

  “You branded her as a devil’s daughter?” Nicholas was flabbergasted. He’d heard the malicious gossip of Pendleton’s cuckolding. Women never ceased to amaze him. Their minds were more devious than most men could even imagine. “Tell me, did muddying her name make your grief more bearable?”

  “No, as I said, I regret my part in that scandal.”

  “And what did your husband do through all your pining?”

  “Do not be callous, Nicholas. You know I cared deeply for your father.”

  He snorted. “Well, you’ll be pleased to hear Lady Pendleton did not come to Town. It seems she fears the ton has a long memory and doesn’t want any whispering to overshadow her daughter.” He went to the door. “I’ll expect to be civil to her replacement, Lady Roberta.”

  Nicholas smiled as he heard the gasp behind him. That should be good retribution.

  Entering the drawing room, he saw Pendleton standing with two women. Mattie had risen and approached the group. He turned to the butler hovering outside the thick pocket doors. “We will expect tea within the half hour. Lady Darby will not be attending us this afternoon. She has the megrim and is requesting chamomile tea in her room.”

  He moved into the room, observing the profile of a woman with dark toffee-colored ringlets falling down the back of a slender neck. She was exactly the type of woman he usually chose for a mistress. Not too fair, not too dark, an ample bosom, rounded hips, curves in the right places without being overly plump. He tamped down the desire that had flared and decided not to postpone the tryst with his mistress.

  The lady turned to face him, and his heart skipped a beat. Eyes that matched her hair, a deep golden brown with gilded flecks, caught his and held him rooted to the spot.

  He held out a hand. “Pendleton, it’s good to see you.”

  Introductions were made, and he avoided Lady Roberta’s keen gaze like an embarrassed schoolboy. Focusing on Miss Pendleton, he murmured, “My pleasure,” and heard the intake of breath as he took her fingers in his and bowed over her hand. A jolt ran through him, but when he looked up she was studying him intently. He had the impression she wanted to lean in closer, an almost imperceptible movement of her body. A strange sense of loss washed over him when she did not.

 
“And may I introduce my sister, Lady Matilda,” he said in return. The conversation became a hum in the background as he watched her make Mattie’s acquaintance.

  She made a comment on the book Mattie held, and Nicholas saw the kindness in Miss Pendleton’s eyes. They discussed titles and authors, and his sister visibly relaxed, her shoulders easing and hands moving as she spoke. So his friend’s sister was as lovely in spirit as in the flesh. He hadn’t known if the girl would take after the cold viscountess or her brother, but her countenance was warm and inviting. And a fetching little morsel, which is why Pendleton had warned him off. The words two bluestockings invaded his brain, and he struggled to enter the conversation again.

  “My sister has her nose in a book most of the time. She’s indiscriminate and will read anything from a scientific journal to a romantic novel.” His words directed Miss Pendleton’s attention back to him.

  Those eyes, the color of creamed chocolate, held him captive. Humor and intelligence, rather than shrewdness, twinkled in her them. She seemed…genuine. When he flashed a smile, the pink of her cheeks made heat rush through him. Damme, but she’s a lovely chit.

  He felt another’s eyes on him and turned to find Lady Roberta contemplating both of them, a knowing grin on her face. By Christ, that woman misses nothing!

  “Lud! This will be a delicious season,” said the matron. “Let’s sit down and get to know one another, shall we?”

  As Mattie served tea, they discussed upcoming public events and invitations that might be received in the future. Lady Roberta was in London often and kept in touch with many of those who enjoyed entertaining, listing those from who she expected to receive calls and invites. “We will, of course, have several dinner parties at our townhouse.” She took a sip of tea and added more cream. “I assume Lady Darby will also be arranging teas or possibly a ball? Your home is larger than ours, and I’ve seen the size of the ballroom upstairs.”