by Reid, Stacy
His heart jolted, and a heavy unexpected disappointment lodged in his gut. It was Miss Callie Middleton still garbed in the bright pink dress she had worn to dinner, her hair piled in a riot of becoming curls, with several wisps dancing about her face. She was petite, the top of her head would probably brush his chin. Her skin was pale, her lips lush and sweetly curved, her figure, though slender, had more than a handful in all the right places. The lady held a basket in her hand. She rested it on a table revealing fresh-cut roses from the hothouse and a pruning shear. She rifled through the contents of the basket, and he arched a brow when she withdrew several sprigs of mistletoe.
Good God. Her intention was apparent. How many ladies had he dodged since his arrival who attempted to use those damnable mistletoe berries to request a kiss or be bold to take one? Even last night, the squire’s daughter had knocked on his door, and he had tugged her into the room after hearing footsteps in the hallway. Miss Vinnette Brampton was the sister of his close friend Thomas. Graham had been amused and appalled in equal measure at her surprising brazenness. But the girl had been suffering from a case of jealousy and heartbreak when the man she loved shifted his attention to another. After drinking several glasses of pilfered sherry and armed with a fistful of mistletoe, Miss Vinnette had planned to soothe her wounded pride with kisses from him!
Even now, the memory of her silliness had a sigh of exasperation escaping from Graham. It was befuddling how everyone seemed to accept that piece of twig was an excuse to throw caution and propriety to the wind. He wasn’t the sort to seduce his friends’ sisters, so after lending a listening ear for several minutes, he’d ensured she reached her room undiscovered.
A sharp grunt snapped his attention to Miss Middleton. She was dragging a wrought-iron chair from near the grate to the door. She hopped onto the chair and then took it a step further by balancing on the chair’s armrest. It rocked precariously, and she muttered a word no lady should know before making a soft triumphant sound. She mounted the leaves and berries above the door, and with a wide grin, jumped from the chair. Graham marveled she had not slipped. She looked up at her work and did a happy little twirl.
He felt mesmerized. Perhaps it was the sense of happiness and expectation in the air. She dragged the chair from out of the way, then strolled to the windows with a frown on her pretty face. The lady reached into the deep pockets of her dress and fished out a pocket watch. She leaned forward, almost pressing her nose against the glass. Unexpectedly she lurched upright and to his amazement clapped her hands in unmistakable glee. She rushed toward the exit that would lead her to the side gardens. The lock refused to budge, and her expression of excitement eased to annoyance. After childishly kicking the door, she hurried in his direction.
Graham stepped behind one of the fir trees. It barely hid him, and he expected her to see him right away. Instead, when she was almost on top of him, she turned and peeked around the tree. It seemed the lady, too, was hiding. His curiosity mounted. An entrance to the conservatory opened and closed with a quiet snick. Miss Middleton held her breath, impatiently tapping her feet.
“Finally,” she muttered with a content sigh when another person entered the glasshouse.
He resisted the urge to look at the newcomer, directing his complete regard on Miss Middleton.
“Lord Deerwood…I mean…Robert…I…I hoped it was you,” a very, breathless voice gasped.
There was a rustle of movement.
“Amelia, my dear, how happy I am to see you,” his father said warmly and with heavy relief in his tone. “I almost did not come and then decided to at the very last minute.”
Ah…so the lady was the viscountess. The man should be happy, indeed.
“I got your note—”
“I got your note—”
They faltered, and the viscountess released a shaky laugh. Graham dared to step closer to Miss Middleton so he could see above her head. Lady Danby and his father stood under the arched entrance, facing and gazing at each other. How…utterly besotted they appeared.
“You got my note?” the viscountess squeaked.
“Yes,” his father said with a frown. “Did you not send me this?”
He plucked the note from his pocket and handed it to her. The viscountess laughed. “I got a similar note.”
“Ah…so someone is playing cupid,” his father said, reaching out and tucking a tendril of the viscountess’s hair behind her ear. “Are you very disappointed I am not the author of such pretty words?”
Even from where Graham stood, he could see the flush of pleasure on the lady. She clasped her hands before her, and her teeth worried at her bottom lip. How young she appeared, certainly not the look of a woman who had two grown daughters. She was flushed, her eyes bright, her countenance one of nervous expectation.
“I am glad this person sent us notes,” she said, with a small smile. “Whoever it is. They had the courage to do what I was thinking.”
His father reached out and took one of her hands clasped around her middle and brought it to his lips. “My dear, Lady Danby, my heart is incredibly happy to hear you say so. I have been uncertain if you held any tendre for me.”
“I…I do admire you, my lord! Very much so, surely you suspected it.”
“Please, call me Robert. And I could only hope, my dear.”
“I…Robert, and you must call me Amelia.”
They smiled at each other then fell into silence.
“This feels awkward—” the viscountess began.
“It does not have to be,” his father interposed with earnest tenderness. “We are both pleased to see each other, let us accept the author of the note seems to suspect what is in our hearts.”
“We do have a meddlesome matchmaker on our hands.”
Graham glanced down at Miss Middleton, who seemed inordinately pleased her ruse was working. Except Graham felt as if the viscountess was perfectly aware of it and was doing a credible job of acting surprised. The deception affected Graham, and a heavy press of an unknown sensation lodged in his gut. His father deserved someone who held genuine affections for him, not a schemer out to snag herself an eligible, and very wealthy lord.
“Please see the mistletoe,” Miss Middleton whispered.
The sound of his father’s and Lady Danby’s voices faded as he stared at the audacious minx before him.
“Oh, Mama, don’t be shy,” she whispered. “This is your chance!”
Anger curled through Graham at the lengths they would go to trap his father. No doubt his father thought the viscountess charming, as he had done with the other two charlatans who had only wanted his money. Graham glared at the back of Miss Middleton’s head, despising that many ladies thought only of a man’s wealth, and little of his character and his interests. He stepped closer to the deceptive minx. Her fragrance was clean and sweet, the fresh scent of lavender soap and roses. His heart jerked, and something unknown stirred inside him. He bit back a groan and tried to dismiss her from his awareness. It annoyed him he could feel attracted to this deceitful hoyden!
She softly clapped, and he glanced above her head. His father had held out his arm to the viscountess, and she was shyly holding onto his elbow. How demure and ladylike she seemed when she had plotted with her daughter for this outcome. Then, as if mischievous fairies worked with Miss Middleton, the sprig of mistletoe she had placed about the door dropped onto his father’s head!
The earl reached for it, appearing bemused. Then he dipped his head and placed a passionate kiss on the viscountess’s mouth. Miss Middleton gasped and covered her eyes. Graham stared at her in mute amazement. Blast his father for once again falling under the wiles of ladies who waged campaigns to steal into a man’s life like they were generals on the battlefield. With single-minded concentration and absolute cunning.
“Robert!” the viscountess gasped breathlessly. “I…I…oh dear, this was so unexpected!”
“Oh, Mama, you can do it! You could be his countess if you would only dream a lit
tle,” she urged in a whisper.
His irritation sharpened into something nearer to anger. Graham’s heart grew colder, and he dipped his head and drawled right at her ear, “And I will do everything to ensure that my father does not marry that woman!”
A sharp gasp escaped Miss Middleton before she whirled around to face him. The prettiness of her features struck him, and he was speechless. Had he ever seen skin look that soft? She had pure creamy flesh with the lightest scattering of freckles across the bridge of a small nose. Tendrils of blonde curls rested becomingly on her forehead, and her gaze held such alarm he almost stepped back. An odd urge to lean in and kiss the top of her nose horrified him, and he scowled.
Why is it the first woman I find attractive in years is this little schemer?
Her golden-brown eyes glowed with secrets, mischief, and a good deal of ire. “You!”
He leaned in, so their lips were perilously close. Her breath hitched on a sharp inhale and her throat worked on a swallow.
“Yes…me!”
Chapter 4
Callie froze where she stood, her heart a pounding roar in her ears. It was Viscount Sherbrooke. How handsome he appeared in dark trousers and jacket, with a burgundy waistcoat. His hair was messy and in need of taming. How rakish it made him look! He was one of the ton’s most elusive marital catches, and the scandal sheets featured him often. With an effort of will, she maintained a serene expression. “I beg your pardon, Viscount Sherbrooke, I wasn’t aware there was someone else here,” Callie said with what she hoped was a great delicacy.
“Evidently,” he said with an icy bite. “I believe you had preferred to conduct your outrageous plots in secrecy.”
His stare was a tangible thing, reaching out to touch her. Yet it was not a tender look, something cold and judgmental filled his glare.
“Outrageous plots?” she asked softly. “What outrageous plot?”
His brow arched in sharp disbelief. “Ah, so even when caught you think to play the long game.”
The door to the conservatory closed. She glanced over her shoulder, and noted her mother and the earl had left. Facing the viscount, she took a steady breath and lifted her chin to meet his unflinching and oddly intimidating regard.
“I am not playing any game.”
She could see the dangerous glitter in his narrowed eyes, but she refused to give in to the urge to step back. Then his words came back to her. ‘And I will do everything to ensure that my father does not marry that woman!’
“Whatever do you mean by saying you’ll ensure your father does not marry my mother?” Callie demanded, thoroughly affronted.
“I believe I was clear, Miss Middleton. My father deserves more than a woman who would scheme with her daughter to entrap him,” the viscount said in a voice mingled with civility and condescension.
“Mama has done nothing of the sort! And I only fanned the flame which had already been lit. A blind man could have sensed the attachment between the pair.”
It galled Callie unspeakably that he might do something to rip apart her mother’s happiness.
“And do you really think I would believe your mother had nothing to do with the contriving act you’re putting on?” he drawled. “Spare me the act, I’ve gotten it enough times from fortune hunters looking to marry into our family’s wealth.”
She gasped, crushing the mistletoe between her fingers. “How dare you! My mother might endure strained circumstances, but she would never form an attachment with someone only because of money! There are genuine feelings, and I daresay Mama is falling in love.”
“Love!” A sharp laugh which ended as soon as it began followed that incredulous utterance. His mien became even more remote, his eyes pinning her in place that of a hawk. It was positively uncomfortable.
“If the viscountess admires anything about Father, it is his deep pockets and connections.”
She did not trust herself to make a civil reply. “You odious creature!” Well…she did try to hold her tongue for a few seconds. “Who gives you the right to object to true love?”
An arrogant brow lifted. “Ah…so your mother’s feelings have even exceeded the normal type of affection? Of course, this…” he waved toward the mistletoe and the conservatory, and continued, scathingly, “This is true love and not the manipulation of a family after my family’s fortune.”
Callie faltered into astonishing stillness, an unknown tempest brewing in her breastbone. How had she ever thought this man handsome? He was the devil! For she could see he intended to ruin her mother’s chance at happiness with the earl, and she would not allow it!
“I assure you, nothing of the sort is happening! I am appalled, mortified, and angry that you should think it and express your opinions in such an uncivil and arrogant manner. I cannot credit that the earl…who is kind and most thoughtful, is your father! I can see your purpose is to ruin my mother’s chance at happiness, and I will not allow it,” she fired, jabbing the point of her finger against his shoulder.
Surprise flared in his beautiful blue eyes before unexpected humor filled his gaze. The shift in his temperament rattled her.
“And how do you plan to stop me?” he asked with provoking amusement.
Sudden tears pricked behind her eyes, and her throat burned.
His eyes widened, and his entire body stilled. “Why are you crying?” he demanded in a gruff tone.
She fought her reaction with a will Callie hadn’t known she possessed. It would be so mortifying if she should shed a tear in the odious man’s presence. “I am not crying,” she snapped, hating that her voice trembled.
“Then, what is this?”
The tender way he spoke had her peering into his eyes in surprise. He reached out, his thumb brushed against her cheek in a feather-light caress, and it was then she realized he traced the path of a tear. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot, and her breath hitched at the weakness that assailed her. “I have a tendency to express my emotions a bit too obviously.”
“I supposed I frustrated you with my plans to thwart your schemes?” There was an edge of steel beneath the gentleness of his tone.
Her chest hurt with the effort to remain unaffected. “No…you do not know my mother…of her kindness, of her loyalty, and that when she loves, she does so with her entire heart. It hurts that you would judge her so unfairly and by the standards of other women you must have encountered in your life. I am not trying to entrap the earl. Never that.”
She vibrated with indignation, took a deep breath, and continued, “I…I could see the tendre Lord Deerwood and my mother have for each other. Mama has been broken and hurt for so long, that it relieves my heart she still can love and yearn for more from life. My mama is pure of heart, demure, respectable, and though she is a bit enamored of scandal sheets, she is not mean-spirited at all! But she can be painfully shy, which some might misconstrue as indifference. I only thought to help her along, and it angers me you would try to take away the cheerful smile I just saw on her face because of your own arrogance and vanity. Your father is an earl…a man of maturity and excellent sense. I daresay he does not need you to decide whom he should shower with his attentions!”
He lowered his hands and studied her as if she were an unusual creature.
“You are very decided with your tongue, aren’t you?”
Now he sounded as if he admired her.
“I agree, Miss Middleton, I do not know your mother, and I may do her a disservice by comparing her to others. I should also trust my father’s judgment and not meddle in his affairs. I will endeavor to do so if you promise no more mischief.”
She frowned. “I…”
He held up a hand. “If there is a genuine attachment between the pair, they will discover it for themselves with no added manipulation, wouldn’t you agree?” he queried in a smooth voice, his eyes never leaving her face. “They’ve received a proper nudge just now…I am certain you also witnessed that passionate kiss.”
She flushed, recalling the
wicked embrace. She wondered if he was right, but Callie knew her mama. The viscountess would need several nudges, and while Callie’s and Letty’s encouragement were meant to be helpful, this dratted man would see it as manipulating his father. She wanted to growl at him. “I suppose so,” she reluctantly agreed.
“And if love,” he said with skepticism, “were to arrow its way into their hearts, it is up to the earl and Lady Danby to discover it with no one conspiring to set them up in a compromising situation that would lead to a forced marriage, especially with so many guests here. After all, there are many one notorious gossip amongst this set.”
Oh! A revelation bloomed through her. “You do not believe in love,” she said with soft surprise.
He jerked in surprise. “I love my family, and I know this because I would do everything necessary to protect them.”
“There is also romantic love.”
He grimaced. “I am sure there is,” he said flatly. “It is not only his father who has been the recipient of many ladies’ plot to align with my family. I still recall how unpleasant their cries of love were.”
“I pity you since I believe you do not think love really exists. Not every wooing is about wealth and connections.”
His face softened, and she was grateful for it.
“Ah…the flowers and the poetry, the lengthy walks and kissing, and then naked and sweaty, tangled limbs atop a bed? That is merely lust and a passion for life. If some want to call it love, who am I to object?”
Shock blossomed through her in a chilly wave. Naked and sweaty, tangled limbs atop a bed? The images provoked in her mind was salacious and downright shocking! Callie considered a variety of answers and rejected them all. What could she say?
Laughter and something devilish lurked in his brilliant eyes. “Ah…, I’ve distressed your sensibilities.”
Callie retreated a few steps, needing the space between them, for his presence was overwhelming and, in that instant, felt wicked. The awareness they were alone…and that it was late, settled inside her. Instead of allowing her the distance, the dratted man followed her. She kept retreating, and he kept advancing. Callie only stopped when her rear encountered one of the Roman statues by the sashed windows.