“Lady Dobson, a delight.” It wasn’t.
Sniffing in acknowledgement of the compliment, she nodded her head in agreement. The feather in her turban bobbed, strands of it floating about her head like a feathery mist.
“My niece, Miss Margaret Lainscott.” A spindly hand lay on Miss Lainscott’s shoulder. “She is the daughter of my late sister and her husband.” She propelled Margaret closer to Colin as if the girl were a sacrificial virgin.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Lainscott.”
“My lord.” Miss Lainscott curtsied, her voice so soft Colin strained to hear it. Now that she was closer, he could see the tiny spray of freckles dotting her nose. Eyes, dark and velvety like those of a doe, looked up at him.
Colin watched as Lady Dobson jabbed a finger in Margaret’s back.
“A pleasure, Lord Kilmaire.”
“Miss Lainscott, how did you find your journey to Gray Covington?” Cam favored her with a kind nod of his head though he clutched his wineglass so tightly Colin feared the slender stem would snap and Cam might stab Lady Dobson with the shard.
Before the girl could reply, Lady Dobson answered, momentarily forgetting Cam’s frostiness towards her. “Tolerable, Lord Cambourne. Our coachman did not take great care on the road and I feared we would be jostled senseless before arriving. There is a large rut as you turn up the drive to Gray Covington. Jarring, my lord. You must send one of your servants to fill it immediately.”
Cam’s lips tightened. “I was speaking to Miss Lainscott.”
Lady Dobson stiffened and her mouth gaped open slightly like a fish that had suddenly found itself in a fisherman’s net. She quickly regained her composure, pillar of society that she was, though she likely hadn’t ever been cut so directly.
A flicker of amusement lit Miss Lainscott’s eyes at her aunt’s discomfort, though she quickly hid it. “I found the countryside beautiful, my lord. It is such a pleasant change from London. And this room,” her eyes swung around to the tapestries lining the walls,“is a work of art. I do adore Greek mythology.”
“She reads overmuch, I fear,” Lady Dobson said, inserting herself. “Margaret, Lord Kilmaire and Lord Cambourne have no desire to listen to your opinion on art.”
Harpy.
“Then it appears we have much in common, Miss Lainscott.” Colin pretended not to hear Lady Dobson and resisted the urge to swat at her as if she were a large, turbaned, housefly. “I adore Greek mythology as well.”
“As do I.” Cam uttered over his glass of wine, his gaze skewering Lady Dobson. “Should you decide to read overmuch while at Gray Covington, Miss Lainscott, I insist that you take advantage of the library. My father’s collection of Greek myths is fairly extensive. I believe there is also an entire shelf on Norse mythology as well. If you would care to expand your knowledge in such things.”
Lady Dobson’s smile faded. It was evident she was struggling to maintain her polite façade. Clearly, the Marquess of Cambourne’s dislike towards her was returned in spades. Lady Dobson might be the only woman in all of England who did not find the Marquess of Cambourne appealing.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Cam set his empty wine glass down on a nearby table. “I believe I have not greeted Lord Hamill properly.” He dipped slightly, and the small piece of jade slid through his hair.
“Well.” Lady Dobson snapped out her fan. Her eyes were riveted on Cam’s earring and she muttered something under her breath. Turning back to her niece and Colin, a sly smile crossed her thin lips. “Margaret, Lady Cambourne begs my attention for a moment. Admire the tapestry and try not to bore Lord Kilmaire until I return.”
Lady Dobson spun off, her skirts nearly swallowing up her meager form as she made her way to the Dowager, leaving her niece with Colin.
A sound of relief escaped Miss Lainscott at her aunt’s departure. Her eyes widened, and one gloved hand covered her mouth in mortification.
Colin liked her all the more for it.
“You may breathe freely now. At least until your aunt returns. I’ll test your knowledge, Miss Lainscott. What event does the tapestry before us depict?”
“The birth of Athena,” she answered without hesitation. “Born fully formed from the head of Zeus.” Stepping closer, the tips of her fingers reached out with hesitation.
“Go on, Miss Lainscott. I shan’t tell.”
Her lips turned up at the corners as she traced the outline of Athena’s sandaled foot.
A melodic laugh sounded on the other side of the room drawing Colin’s attention.
Miranda.
She was greeting Lord Hamill, and her brother. He could see the animation on her beautiful face from where he stood. She wore a gauzy creation of sea-bottle green edged in black piping, that floated over her generous curves. Jet hung from her ears, swaying as she spoke. She looked luscious and warm, like a summer’s day.
“Lord Kilmaire?”
Miss Lainscott’s gaze fell on Miranda.
“Lady Miranda is very lovely.” Miss Lainscott said. “And she’s very well versed in ancient history. I’ve had many spirited discussions with her on the building of the pyramids and their purpose.” Her brow wrinkled. “Oddly enough, she knows quite a bit about the process of embalming and mummification.”
“I didn’t realize you were acquainted.” His eyes never left Miranda. She sparkled like a rare gem from across the room.
Lord Hamill certainly took notice as he was entirely too close to her.
“I was introduced to Lady Miranda at Lady Marr’s fete a fortnight ago. She’s incredibly well read. There are several lectures at the Royal Museum she’s invited me to attend. I believe Lord Cambourne is speaking at one. It’s a recounting of an expedition through India.”
“Yes, he visited there once. But Egypt is her passion.” Colin frowned, watching as Ridley strode over and took Miranda’s elbow. “She has always adored ancient Egypt. Mummies. Pyramids.” He could still see Miranda walking with him as they strolled through the park. She was regaling him with some horrible description of a death ritual practiced by Ramses’s priests, when the breeze blew her bonnet off. The bonnet retreated out of his grasp, over and over, as if some invisible hand pulled it away from him. He’d finally resorted to pouncing on it, battering the poor bonnet and tearing off the ribbon. Instead of being angry at the destruction of her hat, Miranda had laughed in delight.
He’d spun her behind a large oak tree, out of view, and kissed her senseless.
“You seem quite intent on something, Lord Kilmaire.”
Miss Lainscott was much too perceptive for her own good.
“Not at all, Miss Lainscott.” He kept his tone unconcerned and blasé, as if watching Ridley circle Miranda with avarice written on his face was of no import to him. “I was just trying to place the gentleman speaking to Lady Miranda.”
“Lord Ridley.” Her direct gaze met his. “He seems quite taken with her.”
Before he could speak, Lady Dobson reappeared behind them. “Lord Kilmaire, if you’ll excuse us, I wish to introduce Margaret to Lord Carstairs.”
He nodded. “Of course. I look forward to our next conversation, Miss Lainscott.”
Miss Lainscott dipped in an artful curtsy. “Until then, Lord Kilmaire.”
Colin bowed. He turned back to the tapestry, determined to give Athena his attention. He summoned up the anger and bitterness that raged within him for six long, lonely years, but it was no comfort. It was natural to be attracted to her. To want her.
The musical sound of her laughter floated to him.
Was Ridley so fucking amusing? Hamill so witty?
Mine.
Only she wasn’t. Not anymore. He was here to court another woman. Marry another woman. Fulfill his obligation to Runshaw Park. Then he could retreat back to his family’s estate and restore the lands to their former glory. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?
“I came to give my condolences at having to engage Lady Dobson in conversation.” Lo
rd Anthony Welles said as he drew near Colin. “Shouldn’t she have dried up like so much dust and blown away by now instead of continuing to terrorize society? No wonder Lord Dobson met his end early. I’m sure death was preferable to their marriage.”
“Welles. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Kilmaire.” Welles inspected the scar with a piercing gaze. “That must have hurt like hell, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
He didn’t. “Like the bloody dickens.” Welles rarely minced words about anything. It was one of the things Colin liked about him.
“A fine job of stitching you up.” Welles dark head tilted closer to Colin and lowered his voice. “I am sorry, Kilmaire, for the loss of your family. A terrible thing. As one surrounded by five sisters, I cannot imagine.”
“It was a long time ago.” Colin didn’t want Welles sympathy, nor anyone’s. Nick and Cam were bad enough. “Tell me about your business venture, Welles. How is Elysium?”
11
“I’m sure to be seated directly between Lady Cottingham and Lady Dobson, aren’t I?” I did not realize that searching for a suitable wife meant I was also to be tortured during dinner.” He greeted Cam, who along with Gray Covington’s guests, had stood at the announcement that dinner was served.
Cam snorted. “Then you misunderstood the nature of your request to my grandmother.”
“You don’t have to enjoy this so bloody much, ye smug pretty—”
Cam laughed at the insult and sauntered over to Lady Cottingham and her daughter. He bowed and extended out both arms to Lady Helen and her mother.
As Lady Cottingham took his arm she swayed a bit as if she would swoon.
Lady Helen assessed Cam with a somewhat lascivious turn of her lips.
Colin’s possible future countess was definitely not completely an innocent, if the look she gave the Marquess of Cambourne was any indication.
Ridley, ridiculous dandy that he was, took Miranda’s arm to lead her into dinner. He was looking down at her, lips pulled back from his teeth like a hyena or some other second-rate predator.
Colin longed to hit the man with his fist. What a satisfying crunch Ridley’s nose would make as it broke.
A stomp of a cane interrupted his plans for Ridley, followed by the feel of the cane as it whacked against his shin.
“You’ll escort me in, Lord Kilmaire. Do take that scowl off your features. Though I do not find you frightening, I would not wish you to scare the young ladies.”
“I am scowling because of the feel of your cane against my leg. Who knew a woman of your—”
“Do not say age, Lord Kilmaire or I shall swat you again.”
“I was going to say, demeanor.” Truthfully, he had been about to say age but the lady in question was wielding a weapon. Who knew the Dowager possessed such strength? He held out his arm and made a half bow, his eyes lifting a bit so that he could watch Ridley practically maul Miranda.
“Hhmmph,” she said, reaching for his arm. “I asked you to cease scowling.”
“Apologies, my lady.” Colin tucked her gloved hand through his arm and started forward, careful to measure his steps to hers.
Miranda and Ridley walked directly before him and the Dowager, so close that Colin could count the tiny satin clad buttons that wound down Miranda’s back. There were exactly twenty. He longed to undo each one of them. The sweet aroma of Ridley’s pomade met Colin’s nose, and he grimaced.
“Well?” The Dowager said in a low voice demanding his attention.
“You look lovely tonight, Lady Cambourne.”
Ridley’s nose appeared to be nuzzling Miranda’s neck.
“Don’t be obtuse, Lord Kilmaire. I’m in no mood for games though I appreciate the compliment. Between helping you find a bride and ensuring the eligibility of several gentlemen whom Sutton approves of for Miranda, I’m quite taxed. To the point of exhaustion.”
“Cam has implied that he doesn’t care for either of Miranda’s suitors.” I know I don’t.
“My granddaughter has a somewhat limited field from which to choose, but I feel certain that one of the gentlemen in attendance tonight has garnered her affections. I expect an announcement at any time.”
Blinding white jealousy shot through Colin. He lifted a brow waiting for her to elaborate.
The Dowager did not. “How did you find Lady Helen?”
“She seems rather attached to birds.” He almost mentioned Lady Helen’s behavior but decided against it.
The Dowager paused mid step and took the opportunity to smack him again with her cane. “I asked you not to be obtuse.”
“She’s quite lovely.”
“And Margaret Lainscott? Wealthy as well, but certainly no beauty. Rather plain but intelligent. Certainly there is also the appeal of saving her from the ministrations of her aunt.”
“A possibility. However, I think I may like Miss Lainscott a bit too much to do her the disservice of having her marry me.”
The Dowager’s brows wrinkled. “Marriage to you would not be a disservice. She’d be a countess for goodness sakes. Ranked higher than her aunt.”
Colin didn’t reply. Miss Lainscott was not interested in marrying him, he’d surmised as much from their sole conversation. He wasn’t sure that Lady Dobson would be able to force her niece down the aisle at all. The girl was not as malleable as Lady Dobson assumed.
“Well, if neither girl suits, there is also Lady Barbara Payne.”
“Who?” Colin watched Ridley brush his thigh against Miranda’s skirts.
“Lord Payne’s daughter. His estate borders Gray Covington. You met him and his wife years ago, but you may not recall Barbara. Lovely girl. I’ve invited them to join us tomorrow for an impromptu concert. Miss Lainscott will entertain us on the piano. I’m told she’s quite gifted.”
Colin listened with only half his attention. The other half was focused on Miranda, who chattered away to Ridley in a low, seductive voice. At least, it sounded seductive to Colin’s ears.
Ridley leaned in, his eyes not on her face but the tops of her breasts.
Bastard.
“Lord Kilmaire, are you ill? You look as if your stomach has soured. I do hope it doesn’t detract from the delightful repast we are about to enjoy. Alex tells me Cook is especially pleased with the pheasant.” She slowed a bit, and Colin automatically adjusted his stride.
“Perish the thought, Lady Cambourne. It’s the French wine. I find I don’t have a fondness for it. Is that Lord Ridley escorting Miranda? I don’t believe we were introduced.”
“Yes, Lord Ridley.” She cocked her head. “I supposed he’s handsome enough, but money seems to run through his fingers like sand. Horses, I believe.”
“Horses?” Colin replied mechanically, watching Ridley’s hand linger on Miranda’s trim waist as he led her to her seat.
“Yes. Not buying them, of course, not like your father. Ridley is always betting on the beasts, and he’s a poor judge of horseflesh. Very poor.” Her lips thinned. “And he’s rather extravagant, though I don’t suppose it will matter if he has Miranda’s dowry. Money will cease to be an issue for him.”
“I doubt it,” Colin hissed as he caught sight of Ridley’s fingers gliding up Miranda’s gloved hand. Then realizing the harshness of his reply he said, “Those who bet on horses rarely have money.”
“True, Lord Kilmaire. While part of Miranda’s appeal for Ridley is her dowry, I think he does bear her some affection. Enough so that she may be happy.”
A pain lodged and throbbed in Colin’s chest. How could any man want Miranda purely for her dowry? She was beautiful. Intelligent. Kind. Maddening.
“Perhaps,” he started, knowing how ridiculous he sounded, “they share an interest in Egypt.”
The Dowager said nothing for a moment. “I’d forgotten how much the ancient world intrigued her. I’m surprised you remember. At any rate, Ridley does indulge her visits to Thrumbadges, the bookseller. I believe she’s joined a small group of like-m
inded blue-stockings, women more interested in studying archeology than attending balls. I expect that should she and Ridley marry, he’ll allow her to continue to do so.”
Allow her? His eyes flew to the dandy next to Miranda.
“I must give Ridley credit. He has accompanied her to several lectures, more out of duty than interest, of course. Miranda tells me he tends to snore through most of them.”
The Dowager shrugged. “Sutton has given her leave to decide her own fate, so if it is to be Ridley, we must accept that choice. At least Lord Hamill can speak intelligently on many matters.” Her tone left no doubt that she assumed Ridley could not.
Colin gently eased the Dowager into her seat towards the head of the table, all the while contemplating how best Ridley could meet with an unfortunate accident. It would ruin the house party, of course, if Ridley were to perish at Gray Covington, but Colin was certain Cam would forgive him.
“Ah, and there’s Lord Hamill. Where you introduced?” The Dowager asked.
“In a manner of speaking.”
“I find him a bit too elderly for my dear Miranda. After all Hamill was only a few years younger than my husband.” She laughed and shook her head. “He’s quite important in Parliament and is responsible for many crucial reforms. And as I mentioned, he is at least possessed of a more scholarly constitution.”
“So I’ve been given to understand.” Lord Hamill walked with an odd, sideways step, seeming to lean more on Lady Dobson than he should. He looked a bit addled, probably from imbibing too freely of his host’s brandy.
“An injury from the war I believe,” the Dowager whispered, noting his interest of Lord Hamill. “Miranda is most sympathetic. A politician’s lifestyle would suit her, for Hamill may travel to the continent to represent England’s interests. Miranda has always wished to travel abroad.”
Colin found he didn’t care for the idea of Miranda traveling abroad with Hamill. At all.
“There’s also Lord Carstairs and Lord Welles.” She nodded towards Welles who escorted Alex. “Lord Welles I fear is a bit of a rogue, though a rather handsome one at that. Carstairs would be an indulgent husband and make few demands on her, though I fear her mind would atrophy.”
MY WICKED EARL: The Wickeds Book 3 Page 16