To Fall For a Kiss: Kiss the Wallflower, Book 4

by Gill, Tamara

  Certainly he’d been an ogre the first time they had met in Hyde Park. She’d come across him, his sister and Marquess Graham not long after his lordship’s marriage. It may not have been the nicest thing to have done, but to see his lordship flaunting his new wife, and her brother growling at anyone who dared mention their less-than-pleasing heritage had brought out the worst side of her. She’d been terribly rude, but then Mr. Grant had also. After that she’d not gone out of her way to mend ties with the family.

  “That is very good to hear,” her father said, smiling.

  “I shall have Cook send a basket of our produce as a welcome.” That would do nicely and she’d include a small note stating her own thanks for his assistance in Covent Garden. That should do the trick and end any future need to associate with him.

  Her father leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs out before him. “No, you shall deliver it, instead of a servant. We’re the highest-ranked family in the county, it is your duty to invite him for dinner and welcome him properly.”

  Clara gasped, unable to hide her dismay at having to do such a thing. “A basket from our servants will be just as well received as one from me. I do not need to go, Papa, and now that I no longer have a companion I do not see the point in making my maid travel with me, through this cold and damp weather simply to deliver a basket of food. One of the stable hands can deliver it. That will do well enough.”

  Her father looked at her, his brow furrowed. “Why do you no longer have a companion?”

  Clara blinked, fighting back tears at his inability to remember details of their life. “Mrs. Humphries remarried three years ago, Papa. Do you not remember? You gave her away in our church.”

  He blinked at her several times before his eyes cleared and she knew he remembered. “Oh of course, how forgetful I am. Well then, we’ll have to get you a new companion.”

  “I’m six and twenty, Papa. I do not need one. Most of my friends are married now, if I design to go out with them, they can act as my chaperone.” The reminder that she was the last of her friend set to be wed had caused her many nights of unease, but then as sole heiress to her father’s estates there was little reason to worry.

  After losing Marquess Graham to a servant of all people, the desire to marry had waned. Not because she was still in love with his lordship, for she was not. She’d long ago recognized that her infatuation with him had been a youthful folly, but having seen him with his wife, the devotion and love he showed her and the ton was what she wanted for herself.

  During the past eight years since her debut, she’d refused to settle for anyone who did not make her heart flutter and her stomach too. Not only that, but she wanted a gentleman who was intelligent, could offer an opinion without worrying what others thought of him. All the gentlemen who had courted her had been less than pleasing.

  “Even so, my dear, I think it would be best that you welcome Mr. Grant to our county. Your approval of him will ensure his acceptance from the other families of our set.”

  Clara sighed, preferring not to see Mr. Grant again, but then, she supposed she ought to thank him properly for coming to her aid during the Season. His intrusion had thankfully kept Lord Peel away from her, at least at the events that Mr. Grant also attended. She’d not been able to talk to him there, however. Shame washed over her at the reason as to why.

  Her friends knew of her dislike of him and his sisters and so she felt bound to keep up the pretense of indifference, even though he’d come to her aid. But then he’d not sought her out either, to see if she were well and recovered and so it seemed their association, no matter how short in duration, was at an end.

  “Very well, Papa. I shall deliver a basket tomorrow. That will satisfy my obligations and we shall be done with any further need to show hospitality.”

  Her father chuckled, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “You talk as if you fear Mr. Grant, Clara.” He opened one eye and inspected her. She fought not to fidget under his regard. “He is just a man, my dear. Nothing to cause distress, I’m sure.”

  Of course he was right, but still, even now after speaking of him her wretched body refused not to squirm at the mention of his name. It was simply because he’d caught her in a compromising position and was a gentleman whom she disliked. To be indebted to someone you had always loathed was not to be borne and was the reason why she did not feel herself. She was silly to imagine anything else.

  Stephen kicked off his boots at the servants’ entrance after having walked about the grounds of his new home. His brother-in-law, the Marquess Graham had offered to lease the property, to let him make use of the house and land as he chose. His lordship had been contemplating selling the estate for some time, due to being unused since his grandmother’s time, prior to her passing.

  The house was on a good-sized property with three hundred acres that his lordship had said Stephen could use for income. His brother-in-law had also been lenient and allowed him to lease the property for less than what it was worth and he’d forever be indebted to him. Stephen wasn’t fool enough not to know he did any of this for him. The man was devoted to his sister Louise and would do anything to make her and her family happy.

  Since the marriage of his sister, Sophie, the Marquess had gone to great pains to ensure Stephen remained close to Louise and wouldn’t, too, hightail it off to Scotland and live there. They had been separated as children and the Marquess did not want that again for his wife.

  He walked without shoes into the foyer, his clothing damp and muddy after tracking down to the local waterway that ran through his property. He ran a hand through his wet hair and came to a sliding stop at the sight of Lady Clara staring at him, her mouth agape and her eyes stealing over his person from head to foot.

  For a moment he didn’t say a word, merely took in her perfectly styled hair, a bonnet dangling from blue ribbons in her gloved hand. Her gown was of a deeper shade of the sky and with her overcoat, she looked warm and inviting. He shivered, aware that he at least looked the complete opposite to her, a wreck, a wet and muddy mess.

  She raised her brows, meeting his eyes and his defenses shot up. He’d seen that look before, many times in fact in London over the years when she judged him and his family, looked down at him along that pretty, pert nose of hers.

  He stilled at the thought. She wasn’t pretty, and what the hell had made him think such a thing? He started for the library, needing to escape her presence and the falsehood he’d just told himself. “Apologies, Lady Clara, but I must get dry. I’ve been out overlooking the property and have grown damp.”

  She followed him, her light footsteps close on his heels. “Yes, Papa said Marquess Graham had leased the property to you. How very fortunate you are.”

  He clamped his jaw shut, making the fire and turning to warm his backside. Heat seeped into his bones, a welcome reprieve from the chilling outdoors. “Mocking me already? I thought that perhaps my coming to your aid in London may have halted the barbed words that so often spewed from your lips toward my person.” They had never been wont to hide their dislike of each other, and Stephen had always found when it came to Lady Clara, to speak frankly was always best.

  She raised her chin, and his gaze took in her features before dropping to her lips, now puckered into a mulish line. Damn it, he’d always liked her defiance, especially when he said or did something that vexed her.

  “What a delightful way of putting it, Mr. Grant. I see living in a gentleman’s house, circulating within the upper echelons of the ton has not improved your common manners. You will need to do better if you’re to fit in with our society here.”

  He shrugged, bringing attention to the fact his shirt was damp. He reached behind him and pulled it off over his head. Of course to do so was courting scandal and ungentlemanly to the extreme, but the woman was a vexing little prig and he wanted to shock her. If she thought he was so very common, then he’d act like a common man not afraid to undress before a lady. No matter who she was.
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  “I do not need to fit in with the society here. If they shun me, that is their choice and problem. I’ll not change to please others. Unlike some people whom I’ve seen throughout the years I’ve been in London.” Namely the chit glaring at him right now.

  She gasped, dropping the basket he only just noticed she was holding on a nearby table. “I suppose you mean me, Mr. Grant. How dare you be so rude? I demand an apology at once.”

  “I will not apologize for stating the truth and I did not name names, Lady Clara. You think too highly of yourself if you believe I was talking about your person.” Although he very well meant her and her gaggle of silly friends, all of whom had married men whom he’d seen frequent the clubs about London and had seen the indiscretions they partook in. All but Lady Clara had succumbed to the marriage state. He narrowed his eyes upon her.

  Why though, he could not make out. She was a duke’s daughter, an heiress, a perfect catch for the gentlemen of London and beyond.

  It was probably because no one exceeded her lofty aspirations of what constituted a good husband. He walked over to her, ignoring the fact her eyes slid over his now-naked chest like a caress. His skin prickled and he wondered what her hands on his skin would feel like.

  Damn good he’d imagine.

  He shook the thought aside, opening the basket. “What do you have here? A present for me?”

  She rolled her eyes and he bit back a grin. “Father wanted me to welcome you to the neighborhood. He insisted I deliver it. Now that I have, I shall take my leave.”

  He glanced down at her, noticing her blonde locks were only partly pulled up on her head. The few strands that sat about her shoulders only accentuated her pretty neck. She was not a tall woman, only coming up to his chin, but even so, neither was she short, considering his height.

  “You did not wish to deliver them yourself? I thought we may be friends after Covent Garden.”

  A flash of fear slid into her blue orbs before she blinked and it was gone. Even so, he’d seen it and understood the fear his words had brought forth. Lord Peel’s treatment of her that night obviously haunted her, and scared her still.

  Stephen sighed, ashamed to have teased her just then. “I apologize, Lady Clara. I should not make light of that situation. Please forgive me.” He returned to the fire, keeping his back to her. “I thank you for the basket. I’ll be sure to call on your father in the coming days to introduce myself and give my thanks for your generosity.”

  When she didn’t venture to reply, he turned and found her gaze locked on his lower back. Her eyes widened and she looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. He couldn’t help the grin that formed on his lips. He supposed it was only natural. She’d probably not seen many men so scantily dressed in her life.

  “Lady Clara? Did you hear what I said?”

  She nodded, licking her lips. His body hardened at the sight of her tongue. For all her harshness toward him and his sisters, her lofty airs and disdain for those she did not see fit to wipe her boots, damn it she was beautiful. There was no use trying to deny the truth of that fact, and he was a fool to try to sway his mind that she was not. Lady Clara was a sweet little morsel that was ripe for plucking. Not that he’d be the one to pluck her, but still, he wasn’t blind to her outer beauty. What a pity her inner self was so very rotten.

  “Of course I heard and my current thoughts are those that I hope you learn to dress yourself better when you arrive. I was also charged to invite you to dine with us tomorrow evening. Maybe your valet can guide you on what is appropriate to wear around a lady. What you have on at present is not.”

  He ground his teeth, wanting to retort in kind, and yet he did not. His pants were uncomfortably damp and he needed her to leave so he could change. He doubted that Lady Clara would appreciate it if he undid his breeches and pulled those off in front of her as well.

  “I shall ensure I pass on your advice to my valet.” A servant he’d not deemed necessary and actually did not have. He’d been dressing himself since he was eight, he wasn’t now about to need another man to assist him. “Your advice is so very welcome, my lady.”

  She rolled her eyes and his lips twitched. “I will bid you good day, Mr. Grant. Dinner is at eight sharp. Try not to be late.” He watched as she turned and flounced out of the room without a backward glance.

  “I shall do my very best to read the time correctly, Lady Clara, so as not to disappoint you,” he called out after her.

  He chuckled at the vexed argh that came from the foyer before the front door closed softly behind her. Stephen walked to the window and watched as she jumped back into the waiting carriage parked in front of the house before it rattled off down the drive.

  Dinner with the Duke of Law and his daughter. He shook his head at the thought of it. Who would have thought he’d be doing such a thing? Certainly he had not, but after Louise and now Sophie’s exalted marriages he was forced to endure this society simply due to whom he was now related. An earl and a marquess.

  Stephen turned and started for his room, ordering hot water from a waiting footman as he passed him in the foyer. He would do the pretty, play the gentleman, and then his duty would be done with Lady Clara and her father. He could tolerate her for one more night and do his utmost to be on his best behavior before the Duke. If not for the little hellcat who was his neighbor, but then for his sisters and the reputation they wished to keep within the society they circulated.

  Chapter 2

  Clara sat at the dining table the following evening and fought not to roll her eyes each and every time Mr. Grant opened his mouth and talked to her father, or at least tried to. Her father this evening seemed quite preoccupied with the table decorations and was continually staring and touching them as if he’d never seen embroidered linen before in his life.

  It was only the three of them this evening, and she regretted the decision in not making some of their other neighbors attend and make welcome Mr. Grant. With her father ignoring everyone it was left to her to ensure conversation flowed and it was not a task she wished to do. Not with Mr. Grant in any case. He may have saved her at Covent Garden, but it did not make up for the many times he’d been rude to her in town.

  A small voice reminded Clara that she’d been rude also, atrociously so, and especially toward his sisters, so it was only logical that she would receive some criticism in return. Even so, his rudeness had been beyond what she thought was necessary.

  “Are you enjoying the venison, Mr. Grant? The deer came from our lands, we have hundreds running about.” She stared down at the meat on her plate, furiously thinking of what else she could talk about. If they resorted to talking of the weather the evening would be a terrible bore. Perhaps horses? Or even the tablecloth, at least then maybe her papa would take part.

  “It is very good…deer.”

  She looked up and read the laughter glinting in his blue-green eyes, having not missed the double entendre to his words. Was he trying to be amusing? If so, he was not succeeding.

  “How are your sisters, Mr. Grant? I heard Miss Sophie has moved to Scotland and is settled.”

  All amusement fled from his eyes and she marveled at her triumph. Good, at least the subject of his siblings he did not find amusing, especially when it was she who was querying about them. No doubt he’d steeled himself for her to be cutting in regard to his sisters. For years they had played this game of who could insult the other better. It was only natural he would assume she would not stop, even if before her father.

  “Both my sisters are doing well. Louise has recently traveled to Scotland to be with Sophie during the birth of her second child. She has returned to London now, however.”

  “What a shame you did not go,” she said, smiling to soften her insinuation that he ought to leave and never come back. “But I suppose moving into Marquess Graham’s country estate is more important for a young man on the rise.” She smiled sweetly. “I hope Lady Mackintosh came through the birth well.”

  He
stared at her nonplused and she kept her smile firmly on her lips. At least if he’d gone to Scotland she’d not be forced to host dinner parties and think of things to say to please their guest. In future, no matter what her father said, she would agree, but then not follow through on any such ideas. Her father had not taken part in the evening in any case, he may as well have stayed in the library where he’s most comfortable for all the conversation he’d taken part in.

  “Sophie tolerated the birth well. I will travel up to Moy in the coming months after I finish moving into Ashby Cottage. I wish to lord about the house and grounds for some weeks and think myself very grand and important. I must act, you see, just as my betters do. People such as yourself. I have little doubt that you keep a steely eye on all those working for the estate.”

  She raised one brow. Had he really said what he just did? Clara took a sip of wine, watching him over the rim of the crystal glass. “I do of course, just as any proficient landlord should. You forget, Mr. Grant, I’m an educated woman in possession of a brain and know how to keep not just one, but multiple estates running well.”

  “Clara dear, do you think the roses are happy being on our table? They look a little sad to me.”

  Mr. Grant turned his attention to the roses, reaching out to pick one. “I think, your Grace, that they are the happiest when before those who appreciate beauty, like now, as the centerpiece of your dining table.”

  Clara did not know what to say to Mr. Grant’s kind words to her father. Very few, except for her father’s valet, the butler and housekeeper knew that the Duke was falling ill of mind. Mr. Grant being here this evening could soon change that fact. He’d likely tell everyone he knew that the Duke of Law was addled completely.