Never Kiss a Notorious Marquess

by Renee Ann Miller

  Over the edge of a delicate Sèvres teacup, Caroline peered at Mrs. Roth. She’d brought almond crescents and tea flavored with bergamot orange rind into the elderly housekeeper’s sitting room, hoping to make amends.

  “Won’t you please forgive me, Mrs. Roth?”

  The housekeeper had barely spoken two words to her since she’d returned from Beatrice Walker’s suffragist meeting in the Essex countryside. Caroline cared deeply for the elderly housekeeper. Growing up, she’d sat on Mrs. Roth’s lap more times than she could count. Surely, more times than her own dear, yet frail, mama’s.

  She couldn’t blame the woman for her displeasure. She’d placed her in a predicament, forcing the housekeeper to split her loyalty between her employer and Caroline. And though she’d won out over Father, the normally jovial, rotund woman was clearly upset.

  With her pudgy hands, Mrs. Roth smoothed the linen tablecloth, then dropped another lump of sugar into her cup and stirred it in silence.

  “Don’t you wish to have a biscuit?” Caroline motioned to the treats she’d instructed Cook to bake this morning.

  Mrs. Roth tucked a loose gray hair into her chignon and eyed the almond-flavored crescents. They really were the woman’s weakness. The housekeeper wet her lips, her feigned disinterest in the powdered treats crumbling. “I should have sent a missive immediately to your father in Paris when you didn’t come home.”

  Thank the Lord the woman hadn’t. Caroline slid the dish closer to Mrs. Roth. “Yes, I know. I’m truly grateful you didn’t.”

  “I had already penned it when your note arrived from Essex. A moment more, and I would have sent it off.” Mrs. Roth picked up a biscuit and took a generous bite. Swallowing, she mumbled, “There is no telling how your father might have reacted if he’d discovered you attended a suffragist rally.”

  The housekeeper’s comment was quite telling. She didn’t mention how Father might be worried his daughter hadn’t returned home and could have been harmed. Only that he’d be concerned she’d gone to a women’s rights meeting.

  Caroline reached across the table and squeezed Mrs. Roth’s fingers. “I’m sorry to have put you in such a spot.”

  “And when you didn’t arrive home at the expected time, I had to lie and tell the staff you were spending the night at your cousin’s. All the while I was worried senseless. You could have been lying in a ditch for all I knew.”

  “I’m home safe and sound, and dreadfully sorry for the despair I caused you. Will you forgive me?”

  Nodding, the housekeeper picked up another biscuit.

  “Thank you.” The tension coiled within Caroline eased. She glanced at the clock. Earlier, she’d finished her latest article for the London Reformer. She needed to post it today, but it could wait a few hours while she made amends. “Would you care for a game of backgammon, Mrs. Roth?” The woman enjoyed playing the game nearly as much as she favored indulging in biscuits with her tea.

  After several games of backgammon, Caroline pressed a kiss to Mrs. Roth’s cheek. “All is forgiven?”

  “Never could stay mad at you.” The housekeeper patted Caroline’s hand.

  “Then I must be off. I have a letter to post.”

  “There’s no need for you to go. I’ll send a servant.”

  Caroline couldn’t allow someone else to post it. It was addressed to the editor of the London Reformer. Mrs. Roth and the other members of the staff would wonder why she was corresponding with Mr. Hinklesmith. And she couldn’t ask the housekeeper to keep another secret, especially that Caroline was Mr. C. M. Smith, a journalist known for his forward thinking.

  “I shall mail it,” Caroline replied. “An afternoon constitutional will be bracing.”

  Mrs. Roth’s posture stiffened. “You mustn’t walk to Oxford Street by yourself.”

  “I’ll ask Maggie to walk with me.” Her lady’s maid would enjoy the outing since a clerk at the post office had a tendre for Maggie, which the maid returned.

  As Caroline moved up the basement steps, a commotion sounded in the entry hall. She peered past the butler. Cousin Anne and her husband, Charles, stood near several footmen who carried trunks into the house and up the stairs.

  Thank goodness I left Trent Hall when I did.

  Unbidden, Lord Huntington’s face with his dark eyes and thick lashes flashed in her mind’s eye. Last night she’d found sleep difficult as she recalled him kissing her, his tongue tangling with hers. She shook her head and shoved the intrusive memory aside.

  How could she have acted so recklessly? No man had ever made her so impetuous. Perhaps it had been due to the blow to her noggin or the tincture the doctor gave her.

  Gathering her composure, she rushed forward. “Welcome, Anne.” She embraced her cousin and kissed her cheek. “And Charles.” She turned and hugged the gentleman.

  “Oh, dearest Caro,” Anne said, looking frazzled. “I feared we’d never arrive. My mother-in-law insisted she was too ill for us to come to London, even though the doctor said she was as healthy as a racehorse. Mother Wallace took offense to the physician’s equating her to such a beast, and a terrible row ensued betwixt her and the good doctor. She threw a vase at the man! I told Charles I wouldn’t stay with his mama while she was in such a volatile mood.”

  Caroline peered at Charles, whose full cheeks now sported two red spots. “Anne, surely it wasn’t so dire an episode.”

  “Tell her, Charles,” Anne demanded. “Tell her how your mama acted!”

  A wave of compassion for Charles settled over Caroline. He was torn between an overbearing mother and an equally demanding wife.

  Charles cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s true. Mother has become unbearable as of late. We are both more than pleased to be in London and free from her tirades.”

  Anne pulled her straw bonnet off her head and patted her ash-blond hair while giving her husband a benevolent smile. “Indeed. Charles hired Mother Wallace a nurse. She was none too happy and will probably not talk to me when we return. Well, at least if I’m fortunate.” Anne gripped Caroline’s hand. “Caro, was Uncle Reginald angered when my note arrived?”

  “Father had already left before it was delivered.”

  “Oh dear, then he doesn’t know we were delayed?”

  “Do not worry over it,” Caroline replied. “All is well.”

  The nervous expression on Anne’s face dissolved. She smiled. “Caro, we are to have the best of times. We shall go to every ball and several musicals, and to the theater. I’m dying to see one of the Bard’s plays and several Italian operas.”

  Charles groaned.

  His wife playfully patted his cheek. “You will love it, dearest. Just wait and see. We shall have a grand time.”

  Caroline smiled, even though the thought of the long, tedious season caused a slight thudding in her head, but her father had been adamant she attend, since he wished to marry her off.

  * * *

  As James entered the drawing room of the family’s Park Lane residence, he fixed his gaze on Nina, who sat on a blue damask settee. At least his sister had the good graces to avert her face and stare at her lap.

  He shifted his attention to his grandmother, dressed from head to toe in black, sitting in a straight-backed wooden chair that lacked even a stitch of upholstery.

  “Grandmother.” He brushed a light kiss to her pale cheek.

  As though she were worried his show of affection had displaced the little black square of lace perched atop her gray hair, she lifted a gnarled hand to pat the delicate material.

  “I hope you are well,” he said.

  She glared at him with light gray eyes so different from his it was sometimes hard to fathom the same blood ran through their veins. “I haven’t seen you in over a year. How do you think I am?” To emphasize her words, she pounded her cane against the carpeted floor. It made a dull thud, surely not the effect the domineering woman strove to achieve.

  James arched a brow. “You appear as cantankerous as usual, so I presume yo
u are in good health. And perhaps you have forgotten, I’ve repeatedly invited you to come to Trent Hall and stay with us.”

  She harrumphed as if the idea of her venturing to the country was nothing short of preposterous. “What is my granddaughter doing taking the rail to London and gallivanting about, unchaperoned? How untoward.”

  James shifted his gaze back to Nina. His sister knotted her hands in the folds of her purple day dress. “I think it best you direct that question to her, for I am as baffled as you by such behavior.”

  Grandmother’s hand tightened on the gold knob of her cane. “I have asked her, and all the silly chit talks about is balls and pink gowns. I’ve never heard such gibberish in all my life.”

  Nina’s face flushed. If she’d come here expecting commiseration, Grandmother was not apt to give it. She lived by a set of rules. God, country, but most of all honor to one’s name and title. He’d already besmirched the latter; she’d not condone Nina adding fuel to the fire.

  “Sit,” Grandmother ordered, motioning to a chair.

  “I prefer to stand.”

  The dowager’s nostrils flared. “Still as stubborn as ever, I see.”

  “Yes, I believe it’s hereditary.”

  The old woman’s lips twitched. He’d never cowed to her, not even as a young boy when she’d been fond of using her cane as a means to thrash his bottom for the most trivial of offenses. “Touché, my boy. I’m pleased you’ve not lost your quick wit while rusticating in the country.”

  As if his attention had waned, Grandmother thumped the end of her cane against the carpeted floor again. “Now that you are here, I wish you to accompany me to the theater this week.”

  Not likely. He didn’t wish to leave his youngest brother under the guidance of Anthony for too long. He might return to find the scoundrel teaching Georgie how to play vingt-et-un with the footmen. And he didn’t want Nina galivanting about in London. “I’m sorry, Grandmother. I need to return to the country. I must see to my youngest sibling.”

  “No need. Anthony and young George will be here soon.”

  James bit back the anger rising within him. “What?”

  “After you arrived this morning, I sent word to your brothers, informing them you desired their presence in London.”

  Obviously the woman had sent someone to watch his Belgravia residence and knew that only he and Reilly were in Town. It explained the footman’s quick arrival afterward.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” James braced his hands behind his back; otherwise he might have strangled the old bird. Now that would surely give the flibbertigibbets something concrete to gossip about.

  “It is already done. Even if you sent a messenger to stop it, your man will be too late. I informed them to come right away.”

  A smile tipped up the corners of his sister’s mouth.

  James drew in a deep breath. “Leave us, Nina.”

  As if biddable in nature, she stood and exited the room without a word.

  When the double doors closed, James narrowed his gaze on Grandmother. “You, of all people, know that Nina’s disregard for propriety, and her blatant willfulness, should not be rewarded.”

  “Reward her. Huh! That child will watch you and your brothers enjoy what London has to offer while she remains confined to the house. What greater punishment is there?”

  “You cannot control me or my siblings, madam. And your attempts to do so will get you nowhere.”

  His grandmother’s shoulders slumped. The first time he’d ever seen them do so. “I am old, Huntington, and believe I’ve not long left on this human realm. Is it so wrong to want my family near me during my last months, perhaps weeks?”

  Was she ill? The thought unsettled him. He took in her appearance. Her complexion was rather sallow. Her body frail. He’d thought she’d outlive him, but... “Have you seen a doctor?”

  “I don’t need a quack to confirm what I know. I’ve buried all my children and soon I shall join them. You wished me to go to the country, and I will, soon enough, but it shall be feet first, to be laid to rest in the family plot. Don’t I at least deserve my grandchildren’s company for a bit?”

  He’d never thought she’d wanted it. She detested children and the noise they produced. It was part of the reason he’d purchased his own residence even though this house was legally his.

  “If we stay for a while, will you promise to see a doctor?”

  Her wrinkled hand, set in her lap, tightened, then eased. “Of course.”

  James sighed. For all he knew, the woman was lying, but she did look frail. And perhaps Nina being under the woman’s thumb would teach her something. “Very well, Grandmother. We shall stay in London for a brief visit.”

  Chapter Ten

  From where James sat in his box at the theater, he could see several opera glasses pointed at him. The gossips probably contemplated what had finally brought him back to Town. Perhaps they thought he was here in search of a new wife. Or a new victim, since so many thought he’d had a hand in his wife’s death.

  His grandmother lifted her glasses and glanced around at the other patrons seated in the boxes and the dress circle. “I’m glad to see you are holding your chin high,” she said without lowering her glasses. “It is important you let the ton know that you don’t give a fig what is said about you. You always set the rules, while others followed. You had a backbone molded of steel. Running away only made you look guilty.”

  “Madam, I didn’t run away. I left to design and oversee the hydronic water system for my estate.” Also, to keep an eye on his wayward sister, but if he mentioned that, he’d start a new conversation with Grandmother that he didn’t wish to delve into.

  The lights dimmed, and the voices hushed.

  A group of people entered the next box. “Caro, you sit next to Anne,” a male voice said. “I wish to remain in the rear of the box. The view is better from here.”

  A woman laughed.

  The hairs on James’s nape stood on end.

  “Oh, Charles,” a soft, familiar voice said. “Be honest. You’re not fond of Shakespeare any more than you are the opera. You want to stay in the back so you may sleep.”

  “Shh,” another female hissed. “The pair of you are incorrigible. I should have left you both home. Now hush. The play is about to begin, and I, for one, am quite interested.”

  Bracing his hands on the rail, James leaned forward and eyed the occupants in the adjacent box. Two women sat in the front row. The one farthest from him was plump, with blond hair and a pretty, round face. The other had turned to converse with the gentleman seated behind her, but even though he couldn’t see her face, he had no doubt who she was.

  Caroline Armoire. She’d set aside her drab black gown and wore an emerald silk that shimmered under the theater’s low lights and clung to her lush figure. His body reacted, and surely not the way one should react to a boot thief.

  An hour later, the actors on stage were still incapable of holding James’s attention. Instead, his gaze repeatedly veered to a small gap between the red velvet curtains that separated the front of the adjacent box from his. When he leaned back in his chair and cocked his head to the side, he could see the skirt of Caroline’s vibrant green gown and her matching satin slippers peeking out from under her hem. During the last entr’acte, she’d tapped her foot in time to the orchestra’s performance.

  Patiently, as far as one could be with a green-eyed vixen in close proximity, he waited for the interval. After what seemed an eternity, the gold-festooned curtains on stage fell closed and the chandeliers in the auditorium grew bright.

  James gazed down at Grandmother, sleeping soundly. So out of character for the iron matriarch. Perhaps she really wasn’t well. Tomorrow, he’d summon a physician to the house. He stood and unhooked the gold roping that held one of the velvet curtains back. The swagged material swayed closed, barring onlookers from gawking at the dowager. Carefully, he draped her cape over her narrow shoulders, then tilted his head to l
isten to the voices in the next box.

  “Charles,” the woman named Anne said. “Wake up. I wish to go to the refreshment room.”

  “Is . . . is the play done?” the man asked groggily.

  Caroline laughed, a lovely lilting sound. “I fear not, Charles. It’s only the interval.”

  “Do you care for a refreshment, Caroline?” the gentleman inquired.

  “No, I’m fine. Thank you, Cousin.”

  “Why don’t you come with us, Caro?” the woman asked. “I saw Lord Kerr sitting in his box. You were a favorite of his last year when he came to London. Before those terrible headaches overtook you.”

  Lord Kerr? James’s gut tightened. The last time he’d seen the young lord he was a scrawny pup.

  “I have no desire to live so far north in Scotland.”

  “Yes, how dreadfully dull. And I don’t think your father would approve. The man’s burr is as thick as a forest. Let’s go, Charles. We shall be back shortly, Caro.”

  The door in the rear of Caroline’s box thumped shut, rattling the thin partial wall that separated the two compartments. No sooner had the vibrations ceased than the door opened and thudded closed again.

  “Caroline,” a deep, male voice said.

  James tensed. The way the gentleman said her Christian name spoke of familiarity.

  “Oh, Edward, I didn’t know you were in attendance.” Her tone radiated pleasure, and a disquieting unease filled James. The voice sounded like the Earl of Thorton’s. And though James liked the man, he knew him to be a womanizer whose sexual proclivities made Anthony seem like a celibate.

  “Caroline, have you taken leave of your senses?” Thorton asked.

  “I don’t know what you refer to.”

  “Don’t you, Cousin?”

  Cousin? The breath James held in his lungs eased out between his teeth.

  “Has my father asked you to spy on me in his absence, Edward? I’ll not stand for it.”

  Very few people addressed Thorton with anything other than deference or fear. The earl had ruined many a man without blinking an eye. James smiled. He had to give the chit her due, she was no milksop.