Capturing the Earl
Page 5
Perhaps one day he would hear her play. Surely there was nothing wrong with wanting to hear a reportedly good musician show off her skills. Yet even that seemed untoward somehow.
Wesley pressed his head against the wall and called himself a dozen names, the worst of which were stupid, selfish, and defiler of innocents. How had he come to such a pass?
By the time he’d pulled himself together, people were talking and moving around for the intermission. Wesley acted as if he were just returning to the box as the others stood and stretched.
“I thought we’d lost you, my lord,” Lady Mattock said.
“I apologize, my lady. I met an old friend in the lobby and lost track of time. The music sounded wonderful even from that vantage point.”
One curved brow raised on Lady Mattock’s forehead but she just returned his smile and said nothing.
Mr. Colby tugged his coat down over his stomach and adjusted his cravat. “It really is quite good, but Miss Heath is a superior musician on both harp and flute.”
Mercy met Wesley’s gaze for the briefest moment before a warm blush crept from her neck up her cheeks. She shook her head. “You are too complimentary, sir. These are the finest musicians in all of England.”
They silly argument continued, with Mr. Baker chiming in and agreeing with Mr. Colby.
Wesley wished he could touch her cheek and see if it warmed with each blush. Instead, he turned to Aurora, who grinned and gawked at the people milling about below. “You are very quiet, Lady Radcliff. Did you enjoy the first half?”
She continued her perusal of the crowd, spotted Lord and Lady Marsden across the theater in their box, and waved. “I enjoy the music very much, my lord. Mercy is correct when she says these are the finest musicians to be assembled in all of England.”
“And is she also correct when she implies that she is not as talented?” It was dangerous to speak of Mercy to Aurora, but no other topic interested him.
Facing him, Lady Radcliffe studied his face from his brow to his chin, then returned her gaze to his eyes and cocked her head. She really was extremely pretty in the way society loved. Her light golden hair was shiny and perfectly coiffed and her blue eyes held intelligence. Neither tall nor short, she had a pleasing figure and straight, white teeth.
He should be thrilled that the woman who now owned his ancestral lands was not only available but pretty as well. His heart knotted like a stone and he had to force himself not to clutch at the organ in his chest. It was just as well. He couldn’t let a tall reed of a woman dissuade him from his course.
“I speak as someone who adores Mercy, of course, but the gentleman is correct. I feel safe in saying that anyone who has heard her play any of the instruments she excels at would be hard pressed to deny her extraordinary talent.” Aurora continued her inspection of his face.
“Have I dirt on my face, Lady Radcliff?” Wesley rubbed his jaw.
Her smile made her even prettier. “No, my lord. I’m just taking my measure of you.”
“And what have you discovered?”
“It’s too soon to say really. My mother says you wish to court me.” She spoke plainly and without emotion.
Taken aback, Wesley choked and had to recover himself. “You are blunt, my lady, but not incorrect.”
“I think you should know immediately that I have no intention of marrying now, nor will I ever consider it again. My mother should have informed you of that.” Aurora’s sky-blue eyes never wavered from his.
This was going to be harder than he would have wished, but it changed nothing. He would have Aurora for his wife no matter what he had to do to accomplish it. Charm would be a good start. “Your good mother did not mention your aversion to marriage, my lady. However, perhaps we might start with a friendship and then you can thwart my attentions at a later date.”
Her grin was quick and her laughter gone before anyone could enjoy it, most of all herself. “If it is friendship you seek, then I am willing to oblige, my lord.” She offered her hand like a man might during a business agreement.
These women who called themselves wallflowers were a treat. He liked them more than he had liked any women save his sisters. He took her hand and shook it. Her grip was firm and sure. “I appreciate your honesty, my lady.”
Turning her hand, he bowed over it as if to kiss her, but did not touch his lips to her skin. Somehow, the notion of touching his lips to another woman after kissing Mercy nauseated him, as if it might wash away the essence of her and he didn’t want that. Not yet.
He glanced up as he rose from his bow and found the lady still studying him as if he were the subject of some scientific experiment.
The signal that the music was about to start up again was a welcome respite from her inspection. He took his seat with Mercy to his right and Aurora to his left. A slow sad violin played in the darkness before being joined by a cello’s low tone. They seemed in conflict, just as he was seated between a woman he wanted and the one he needed.
By the time the symphony had concluded, ever nerve inside Wesley shook with frustration and rage. He wanted to run from the theater and not look back. However, he had a goal and he would pursue it to the inevitable end. “Lady Radcliff, why is it that you and your friends call yourselves wallflowers? It is clear to me that not only are you lovely but only one of you is left unmarried.”
The theater was crowded and spilled out onto the street, where they waited for Lady Mattock’s carriage to find its way to pick them up.
Aurora exchanged a smile with Mercy, who shrugged.
“An old moniker from our schooldays. We still meet, every Tuesday for tea at West Lane and started calling ourselves the Wallflowers of West Lane.” Aurora smiled.
It took every bit of his will to keep from looking at Mercy. Was she as fond of the name and these women as Aurora? He imagined she was and he longed to see the warmth of expression in her eyes and a genuine grin on her extraordinary lips.
Oh Lord, why had he thought of her lips?
The carriage thankfully arrived. Aurora accepted his hand up. “I suppose I will see you at my mother’s dinner party, my lord.”
“I have accepted the invitation and am very much looking forward to the event.”
With a nod, she entered the carriage.
Mercy jumped in behind her, barely allowing his hand to graze hers. “Good night, my lord.”
“Miss Heath.” He wanted to grab her and hold her. He longed to tell her he’d never been so attracted to anyone in his life and wipe that look of disgust off her face that she’d given him in the hall before she walked away. Her thinking he was trying to seduce her as if she meant nothing but a source of pleasure rubbed him raw from the inside out.
She’d said none of what rolled around in his mind, but his guilt implied it might all be true.
Handing Mercy’s aunt up into the carriage, he met her glare. “Thank you for the invitation tonight, my lady. It was a singular night.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
“I agree, my lord. I am pleased you have become part of our society and know we shall meet again soon.” The wicked twist of her lips said she knew more than she said.
Had Lady Mattock seen him nearly defile her niece in the hallway of a public theater? Surely not. She would have demanded he marry the girl on the spot. He held his expression soft and bland and hoped he pulled it off. “Good evening, my lady.”
The carriage rolled away and Wesley watched until the night obscured his view. He shook off the last thoughts of marrying Mercy instead of Aurora. It did no good. Though still the daughter of a gentleman, she was beneath him. She didn’t have what he needed and Aurora did. There was no help for it.
Wesley climbed into his own carriage and thought their being close friends was some kind of punishment, which he richly deserved.
Chapter 4
She had lost her mind. That wa
s the only explanation Mercy had for how long she had been sitting in front of the glass staring at her reflection and wondering if she should stay home for the night.
Because spending an evening in Aurora’s mother’s home with Wesley at the dinner party was foolish. Still, the idea of not going gnawed at her. She’d fussed with her hair for a half hour after Jane finished with it and changed her gown three times. Now she couldn’t seem to make herself get up and go downstairs where her aunt, Faith and her husband, Nick, and Aurora were likely enjoying a chat and a sherry until the time came to leave.
The knock at her door told her a Wallflower was about to enter. In school, they had started a special system of three knocks, a pause, and one knock for knowing it was one of them wishing to enter. She didn’t turn when the door opened. “Is everyone waiting?”
Faith stood behind her. Her wild curls were already making an attempt to escape the elaborate style her maid had probably spent hours on. She pushed one brown lock back into place and it immediately popped back out. “No. They are fine, but you are never tardy so I came to check on you.”
“Why did you say you were coming up here?” The idea of everyone thinking something was wrong made Mercy nauseous.
“To fix my hair, but of course, it’s not possible. Why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you and save me the time it would take to wring it out of you?” Faith’s grin made her golden eyes crunch up and sparkle.
It was senseless to evade Faith’s questions as she meant what she said. She would find a way to drag the information from Mercy even if it took weeks. Turning from the glass, she faced her friend. “You must keep it between us. I don’t want Aurora to hear of this.”
“Why ever not?” Faith’s eyes were wide as saucers.
“The other night at the symphony, I became overwhelmed by the music and the company and stepped into the hallway to catch my breath and contain myself.” It was even harder than she imagined to tell her tale. A light sheen of perspiration popped out on her skin, and she felt the flush just thinking of Wesley.
Faith took Mercy’s hand and pulled her over to sit on the divan near the fire. “You are often moved by music.”
Sconces on either side of the mantle and the other lamps in the room gave good light to the pale green and lavender room though the hearth was dark in the warm weather. “
“It was more than that. Somehow being near Lord Castlewick enhanced my emotions.” Mercy’s heart lodged in her throat while she waited for Faith to give her the sound berating she deserved.
“Oh.” Faith frowned but then looked up with a calm expression. “If you have an interest in his lordship, why would you not want to tell Aurora about it. If by some chance she decides to marry him, it would make it very hard on you, Mercy.”
Everything Faith said had kept Mercy up for several nights. “It gets worse.”
“Does it?”
Mercy nodded. “His lordship came into the hall to check on me. At least, I think that is why he followed me.” It was impossible to go on. Mercy swallowed several times to clear the emotions welling up as if the events had just happened.
“What happened, Mercy?” The sternness of Faith’s voice said she would not accept anything less than the entire truth.
“He kissed me.”
Faith stood. “In the hall? What kind of a man does such a thing? We should go to Aurora immediately and tell her he is not the kind of man anyone of us should be courting. Her mother should be told as well.”
Horror welled inside Mercy. She rose and gripped Faith’s hands. “No. He may have initiated the kiss, but I did not attempt to stop him. I think he is a good man, though I’m sure it is Aurora’s property he is after. Many people marry for such things. If he could make Aurora happy, I cannot stand in the way. They might be a good match.”
Mercy struggled to catch her breath and it came in great gulps until no air would pass and panic set in.
Forcing her back to sitting, Faith put her face just an inch from Mercy’s “Slow, dearest. Slow down. One breath at a time.”
With small success, Mercy tried to follow the directions to breathe but it did little good and the room started to spin.
Faith handed Mercy the guitar she kept in the corner of her bedroom. Aunt Phyllis had discovered the instrument while traveling in Spain and brought it back for Mercy.
Smooth wood pressed into her hand and the weight of the guitar fell on her lap. Instinctively, Mercy strummed with her thumb and pressed the strings between the frets. Sensual cords filled the room as it came back into focus. She played part of Mozart’s Requiem, which she had converted for her Spanish instrument.
Calm washed over her. Putting the guitar aside, she peered at Faith, who once again sat beside her. “I’m a terrible person.”
“No. You are a wonderful person.” She said it as if it were a matter of fact and not her opinion. “What makes you say that despite his kissing you in a darkened hallway, Castlewick is a good man?”
It was a fair question but the answer was complicated. “I can only tell you that if he felt as I did on that night, in that moment, nothing could have stopped that kiss.” Heat rose up her cheeks with the exquisite memory.
Faith sat back and examined Mercy with her head cocked to one side. “You didn’t try to stop him.” It was not a question. “You kissed him back.”
“I couldn’t stop myself, let alone him.” Shame mixed with the wonder of her recollection. She wanted the moment to be pure and beautiful, but circumstances covered it with filth.
“Why not tell Aurora that you want him for yourself and let her mother go to Bath to calm her nerves?” Faith’s concerned expression had eased into raised brows and curiosity.
It was a ridiculous suggestion. “The Earl of Castlewick is not going to marry Miss Heath with little money or connections. Have you lost your mind? He might think to make me his mistress if he didn’t wish to marry Aurora, but even a man would see how that would never work.”
Anger rippled through Faith’s golden eyes and she straightened her shoulders. “You are no man’s mistress, Mercedes. How can you even think such a thing? You will marry whom you wish when you wish and if you wish. If Castlewick loves you, he should marry you. This is not up for debate.”
“Well, he doesn’t love me. He barely knows me. It was just the passion of the music in the dim corridor. I’m sure he’s already forgotten all about his little slip with a girl of no consequence.”
“You know, Mercy, I love you like a sister, but when you speak of yourself so meanly, I want to shake some sense into you.”
“I am nothing but good sense, Faith. If I marry, it will be to someone like Mr. Colby who is uncomplicated and loves music. We shall live modestly, but well enough, and my aunt will come visit often. I will still be able to come to tea with the Wallflowers and all will be well.” Mercy’s heart beat out a miserable staccato that only she could hear.
“You could marry an earl, become a countess, and still have tea with us and your aunt would be delighted,” Faith countered.
“It does no good to live in a fantasy world, Faith. My only relationship with Wesley Renshaw would be as his mistress. In which case, I would lose all my friends and my aunt would disown me.” The notion of being Wesley’s mistress, to be used and discarded in a few years, made her feel sick again despite her desire to be in his arms. “While I’ll admit that the kiss was extraordinary, I am not overcome with silly ideas. He is just a man and I’m a little embarrassed to see him again so soon. That is why it has taken me so long to come downstairs.” Mercy stood and brushed out her skirt before checking her hair in the glass. “Shall we join the others?”
Faith slipped her arm through Mercy’s. “You are wrong about something, Mercy.”
“What is that?”
“The Wallflowers would never abandon you no matter what choices you make. Though I think I kno
w you well enough to safely say you are not going to settle for less than a spectacular lover who meets all your needs.”
Mercy went with Faith arm in arm downstairs. Would Wesley be a spectacular lover? Shaking her head, she brushed the idea aside. She would run him off for Aurora, if need be, but she would keep her distance emotionally.
That was that.
Lifting her chin, she knew she could do what had to be done.
* * * *
The worst part of his pursuit of Aurora Sherbourn was undoubtedly her mother, the Dowager Countess of Marsden. Of course, it had been through her ladyship that Wesley had gotten in the door to meet Aurora. Still, her constant spouting of her daughter’s talents, along with the strange way she also told the lady’s flaws, had become tedious.
He had arrived on time and only Rhys and Poppy Draper had arrived before him. Lord Marsden was Aurora’s brother and a good fellow. His wife was funny and straightforward. She reminded him of Mercy. He brushed the thought aside. He had convinced himself the kiss had been a fluke and would never happen again. It had been a response to the music and nothing more.
“I don’t want you to think Aurora is willful, my lord. My late husband and I sent her to the Wormbattle School and Miss Agatha banished all signs of disobedience.” The dowager glowered at Poppy and bared her teeth in something like a smile, but scarier. “Look at my daughter-in-law. She is every bit a countess and she went to the Wormbattle School as well. All signs of bad behavior gone.”
Rhys went into a fit of coughing that Wesley thought might be hiding laughter.
Patting her husband’s back and making no attempt to hide her own amusement, Poppy said, “Thank you, my lady. You are too kind and free with your compliments.”
Even Wesley had trouble keeping a calm facade when sarcasm oozed from Poppy’s words.
Oblivious, Jemima Draper gave a condescending nod.
“Mother, you needn’t prop Rora up so much. Lord Castlewick can see for himself that she is a wonderful girl.” Rhys pored two brandies and handed Wesley one. “You will need this before the night is over.”