“Then you may go to Fortescue Grange. Maintaining your friendship with a Duchess is surely worthwhile, and may even help you find a husband. Although preferably not through a scandal, as Selina found hers!”
Chapter Two
The crates seemed never-ending – had he really collected so many items in the last seven years? It appeared that he had. He had opened up the East Wing of the house, which had stood unused for many years, and asked that all of his crates be stored there. His staff had done as asked, each time a shipment arrived whilst he was still away. And now he had to deal with them all.
He had debated the order of things, and had settled on getting the rooms all cleaned and readied whilst the crates were isolated in one area, before he began the unpacking. That way, he hoped, nothing would be too dirtied by the inevitable dust – he could unpack one crate at a time, and immediately transport its contents from the unpacking room and its dust, to another room in the Wing, where the items might be placed on show, as appropriate.
That morning, he had wandered about, and made decisions about which room would house which items, and what furniture needed to be moved around.
Now, with that done, he prepared to start the largest part of the task – the actual uncrating. He had time only to deal with one crate this afternoon, he suspected, for he was expected to dinner at Fortescue Grange at seven. A dinner he was actually looking forward to, at least a little. He had not seen Alex since Italy, and conversation with one of the few people who appreciated his collecting would be welcome. Although… now that Alex was Duke of Southolton, and had married, perhaps conversation would be more limited. One could not generally discuss the things that Dash collected with ladies.
Still, seeing a friend again would be good.
He pried the boards from the top of the first crate, and began to sift through the wood shavings that filled it, seeking the cloth wrapped items cradled in the tangle of crisp curling wood. The shavings inevitably crushed under his fingers to some extent, making even more dust. He lifted the first wrapped bundle out – a carved object, from the feel of it.
Gently, he brushed the dust from the cloth, and unwrapped it. Within, as he had expected, was a carved item – in this case, an ivory godemiche. The work was beautiful, the detail exquisite – it really did look like a man’s member, if, perhaps a little larger than life. Attached to it, tied with string, was a label, noting where he had obtained it, and what he had been able to discover of its provenance. He took it to the clean table on the other side of the room, and set it down, then made a note in his inventory book. So went the afternoon, as he pulled a trove of books, statues, small paintings, and other carved items intended to increase the experience of pleasure from the crate, and unwrapped them. When the table was full, he paused and stretched.
He then gathered up items in small batches, and took them to the rooms where they would be displayed. For now, he simply settled them on shelves or tables, or in glass fronted cases. But as he did so, his mind was working, imagining how he might best present them, imagining what information about each piece should be displayed with it, and how that information should be displayed, so that a viewer could easily read it.
Once all of the pieces from that first crate were unpacked and settled in the other rooms, he left the East Wing, locking the door into that part of the house after him. He did not wish to have a maid go in there, intending to dust and polish, only to be utterly scandalised by what she saw. He laughed internally at the incongruity of his thoughts – here he was, setting up a display of scandalous yet fascinating items, considering how best to display them for a viewer, yet at the same time, worrying about letting his staff see them. Well, he would have to deal with that issue eventually – but not today.
When he stepped into his rooms, Del Monte, the valet who had been with him since he first went to Italy, shook his head sorrowfully.
“Signore… the dust…”
“Yes, yes, I know. I do apologise for the work it makes for you – but I can’t avoid it, if I am to unpack everything. Now, let me wash the worst off my skin in a bath, and then you can prepare me for dinner at Fortescue Grange.”
Del Monte gave an exaggerated sigh, and helped him undress, handling the dusty garments with a display of fastidious distaste – a display which Dash knew was entirely an act.
An hour later, after a decent warm bath, dressed in clothing far more formal and restrictive than he preferred, Dash entered his study. A small brandy was in order, while he waited for the carriage to be brought around. He wondered how much Alex might have changed, in the more than a year since Dash had seen him – what might taking on the title, and marrying, have done to the carefree man he remembered?
In Italy, Alex had appreciated the items Dash collected – the ones he saw, anyway, and they had often discussed the ingenuity of men when seeking the pleasures of the flesh. What sort of woman might he have married? One who understood and embraced passion, like the Italian women he remembered fondly, or one who was more a cold and collected English prude? Dash shuddered at the thought of the latter, and downed the last of his brandy, just as Chalmers tapped at the door.
“The carriage is ready, my Lord.”
~~~~~
Mariel stared out of the carriage window as they approached Fortescue Grange. The late afternoon sun was a rich golden tone, making the world look as if it was much warmer than the reality. The long shadows cast from the trees and the house stretched across fields still dusted with snow. She was tired yet excited to be there. How much had changed since last she had seen the place! It seemed improbable that it had only been six weeks ago, that she had first travelled up this driveway. Opposite her, her maid Hattie dozed on the carriage seat, her bonnet askew.
“Hattie! Wake up, we have arrived – well, almost.”
Hattie was perhaps ten years older than Mariel, a kind woman with an obsessive attention to detail when it came to her mistress’ appearance. She was not easily shocked, and she was deeply loyal – traits which Mariel greatly appreciated, given her own propensity for taking risks which might easily turn to scandal if things went wrong. Hattie half snorted, and started awake, fussing over her bonnet a moment before looking out of the window.
“Oh my, I’d forgotten just how big this place is! It does look so imposing.”
“It does. But…” they turned the final curve of the drive, and Mariel peered towards the front door, “is that a carriage drawn up outside?”
“It is, my Lady. It appears to have a coat of arms on the door, so it must be someone of importance.”
They drew closer, and as they came to a halt near the other carriage, a footman opened its door and let down the steps. A man emerged – obviously a gentleman, from his dress and manner. But a man that Mariel had never seen before in her life. Most interesting.
He was tall, fairly lean in a way that suggested he did not lack for exercise, with dark brown hair that the late afternoon sun drew glints of red from. Mariel, in her usual manner, considered his physical appeal. She could not deny that he was good to look upon – his skin was lightly tanned, in a similar manner to that of the Duke whose house he was visiting, and she wondered if this man too had spent time in Italy, or elsewhere in sunny climes.
The lines of his face were elegant, and the low angled sunlight cast his profile into strong relief. For a moment, Mariel felt her breathing hitch. She shook the sensation away and kept watching as a footman approached her carriage and opened the door. Perforce, she had to turn her eyes away to ensure her safe footing as she stepped down from the carriage, and by the time she looked back, he was gone – disappeared into the house.
Deeply curious, she led Hattie towards the front steps, leaving the footman and her coachman to deal with her luggage. Hallam, the butler, greeted her with a smile.
“Good afternoon, Lady Mariel. We have given you the rooms that you used on your last visit – shall I have your luggage sent straight up?”
“Yes, thank you. Hattie,
will you see to the unpacking? And prepare something for me to change into, for dinner?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
As Mariel turned back to Hallam, intending to ask after Selina’s whereabouts, Selina rushed into the foyer.
“Mariel! I am so glad that you are finally here. Do come into the parlour and greet Alex. Oh, and meet our dinner guest.”
Mariel looked at her for a moment, considering, then glanced down at the crushed folds of her dress, which had suffered from the hours in the carriage.
“Perhaps I should change first? I am, I believe, rather unfashionably travel worn.”
Selina laughed, shaking her head.
“You look beautiful regardless, but if you wish…”
“I think that I do, given that you have another guest – I would not want to be thought unkempt!”
“Then let me come with you, and we can talk as you change. I am quite certain that Alex can entertain Lord Longwood by himself for now.”
They set off up the stairs, and Mariel looked curiously at Selina.
“Lord Longwood? I do not know the name, and I thought that I knew of every man of the ton, almost – for I have studied which are worthy of… further investigation… and which are worthy of being avoided.”
“‘Further investigation’ – how delicate of you, Mariel – when I know that you mean kisses, and more!”
Mariel laughed.
“See what not having you to talk to has done to me? I am actually developing the dreadful habit of being as proprietous as my mother would like me to be!”
They reached the rooms, which were just as Mariel remembered, and found Hattie standing in the dressing room, with open trunks and hatboxes scattered around her.
“Oh! My Lady, I didn’t expect you quite yet. But, if you wish to change, I have these two dresses which are not at all crushed from the trunks – will one of these suit?”
“The blue one will do nicely, thank you. That shade of blue always makes my eyes look brighter.”
As Hattie began to undo the buttons on her travelling dress, Mariel turned back to Selina.
“So – I must admit that I am full of curiosity – about your life, and all of the things that your letter suggested we might speak of – and about your guest downstairs. Lord Longwood? Who is he – I mean, where does he fit amongst the tangled relationships of the ton? And why have I never heard of him?”
Selina laughed – a melodious sound, which Mariel loved – and envied, for she did not think her own laugh to be anywhere near as pleasant sounding.
“As far as the details I referred to in my letter, perhaps that is best left until we can have a private coze, away from everyone – mayhap late tonight, or tomorrow? But with respect to Lord Longwood – you have not seen or heard of him before, because he has been out of the country for seven or eight years – in Italy, and in other countries, on the continent and beyond. He is a Marquess – his father is the Duke of Cockleigh, and he is the heir. But he cares more for travel, and collecting things from distant places, than for English society – at least that’s what Alex told me. Alex met him in Italy, and they became friends. Lord Longwood has very recently returned to England, and Longwood Peak is but half an hour’s drive from here.”
“If his estate is so close, how is it that Alex did not know him when they were boys?”
“He grew up at Cockleigh Great Hall, I believe, which is on the other side of the county.”
“Oh, that makes sense. But you said that he collects things from distant places? What sort of things – for that could be either interesting or boring. After all, you remember that dreadful Lord Chasetick? The one who collected stick insects from around the world, and talked of nothing else?”
Selina shuddered.
“I can assure you that Lord Longwood appears to be nothing like that. But… there is some mystery about him. For Alex refused to tell me exactly what it is that he collects – he said something along the lines of ‘Lord Longwood may tell you if he wishes, for it is his business’. So I don’t know. But I am determined to find out.”
“Ooh! That is rather intriguing. What could it be, that requires such discretion in knowing of it?”
Hattie, all the while they had talked, had gone about the process of getting Mariel out of one dress and into the other, of changing her necklace to suit, and of tidying her travel tumbled dark curls. Mariel had simply complied with whatever she wanted, like an obedient doll, her whole attention focussed on her conversation with Selina.
“There, my Lady, unless you want to change anything, I think that you are ready to go downstairs now. And I will get back to unpacking.”
Mariel spun to look at herself in the mirror, and nodded in satisfaction.
“I’ll ask the kitchen to send you up a meal, Hattie, so that you are certain to remember to eat.”
“Thank you, my Lady.”
Selina raised an eyebrow at Mariel, and once they had left the room, Mariel explained.
“Hattie is obsessive about making me look my best – she truly would forget to eat, to have everything in order before I come back up.”
“Well… I can see how that could be both useful and annoying. Lisbet is rather more relaxed.”
Mariel nodded, and they turned towards the parlour as they reached the bottom of the flight of stairs. She caught Hallam’s attention, and requested the meal for Hattie, then followed Selina. As Selina opened the parlour door, Mariel observed the room she was entering. Lord Longwood stood with Alex near the fireplace, and the combination of firelight and candlelight made his tanned skin seem even warmer toned. He looked in their direction at the click of the door, and Mariel’s eyes met his.
His eyes were a deep amber colour, with dark flecks in their depths. For a moment, it was as if she had fallen into a pool of honey – everything slowed, and all she could see was that rich gold. Then he looked away, and the moment passed. She looked at him again. He seemed ordinary – quiet in his manner, and in his dress, as if he sought to be barely noticeable. She wondered why – was it intentional, or was he actually scholarly and boring, despite his travels?
They moved across the room, and Alex came to take her hands in welcome.
“Welcome back to Fortescue Grange, Lady Mariel. I trust that you will enjoy your visit… even if the… entertainment… is rather less dramatic than last time you were here.”
His eyes sparkled with mischief, and she knew exactly what he referred to.
“Thank you, Your Grace. I fully intend to enjoy myself – without the need for quite that sort of… entertainment… although it was most educational, I must say.”
Alex sketched her a bow, full of humour.
Then he drew her forward, towards Lord Longwood, who had observed their cryptic conversation in polite patient silence.
“May I present Dashiell Hardstone, Marquess of Longwood? Dash, this is Lady Mariel Angleton, my wife’s closest friend, and the woman who provided us some… assistance… in the matter of achieving our marriage.”
Lord Longwood took her hand, and bowed – an elegant movement, with nothing ostentatious about it.
“I am delighted to meet you, Lady Mariel. I must admit to being a little intrigued by that introduction.”
Mariel met his eyes and for a moment, again, everything else faded away. He smiled, and the smile transformed his face from serious, and a little dull, to rather spectacularly handsome. She took a breath – how on earth could she answer the implied question in his words?
Then it came to her, and a wicked little smile curled her lips.
“Lord Longwood, I am afraid that, should you wish to know more of what is behind that introduction, you will have to ask His Grace – it is his story to tell.”
Beside her, Selina stifled a tiny spurt of laughter, and Alex flicked a glance to Selina. It was clear that both of them had caught the echo of the words he had spoken to Selina, about Lord Longwood’s collecting.
Lord Longwood bowed again, and looked at his
hosts.
“Then I shall have to ask him, at the earliest suitable moment.”
Mariel smiled, and said nothing further.
Almost immediately, as a moment’s silence fell amongst them, there was a tap at the door, and dinner was announced. Lord Longwood offered Mariel his arm, and they followed Selina and Alex to the dining room.
~~~~~
Dash found himself frustrated, and intrigued at the same time. When Alex had informed him of their other guest, he had expected a society darling, with barely a thought in her head – although that expectation had rapidly become less certain as he took the measure of Alex’s Duchess. Who was most definitely intelligent, and not at all what he had expected. And as Lady Mariel was her closest friend…
As dinner wore on, and everyone relaxed into conversation, he found himself wanting to talk about his collection, about what he was doing at Longwood Peak, about his annoyance with the Museum – but he resisted the temptation – he did not know enough about either the Duchess or Lady Mariel to risk speaking of his scandalous interests.
So he allowed others to set the conversational topics, and spoke happily of his time in Italy, without mentioning specific items. He found his eyes returning to Lady Mariel, repeatedly. Her deep violet eyes sparkled, her dark hair and slightly olive skin tone reminded him of the vibrant Italian beauties he had dallied with, and it became steadily more clear that she was astute, with a sharp sense of humour.
Which made her all the more dangerous to his composure.
I hope that you enjoyed this PREVIEW.
Read the rest and discover how Dash and Mariel came to be married.
Get it at:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B07Z2VHSG5
Books in the
His Majesty’s Hounds Series
Claiming the Heart of a Duke
Intriguing the Viscount
Giving a Heart of Lace
Being Lady Harriet’s Hero
Enchanting the Duke
Christmas with THAT Duke: Regency Romance (Regency Scandals Book 3) Page 13