“You will need to order more than one bath, Mother,” Gideon said cheerfully. “Unless you expect Thorn and I to share Olivia’s.”
“Share?” The marchioness sputtered at the suggestion, and then she laughed. “That will be the day. You have to watch your step around my sons, Olivia. It appears they have turned into scoundrels.”
With a parting glance at the earl, Olivia said, “I will keep that in mind, Lady Felstead.”
Chapter Four
Several hours later, the upheaval in the household created by Thorn, Gideon, and Miss Lydall had dissipated as Lord and Lady Felstead’s guests drifted away to seek other amusements. A bath and a change of clothes had restored Thorn’s spirits. His brother had disappeared into the card room an hour earlier. He had caught a glimpse of Miss Lydall’s back as she conversed with his seventeen-year-old sister as he strolled past the drawing room. The blue dress she had borrowed likely belonged to Fiona, although he imagined the maid had struggled with the laces of the lady’s stays to fit her generous breasts into the bodice.
Their unexpected plunge into the lake had revealed that Miss Lydall’s slender figure had developed some very womanly curves in the last few years. How old was she now? Eighteen? Thorn mentally counted. No, she was six years younger than him and Gideon, and her birthday was approaching. It would be her twentieth. During the years of his brother’s absence and his time away from Malster Park, Miss Olivia Lydall had left her childhood behind and had grown into a woman.
He wondered if Gideon had noticed. Of course he had, Thorn thought as a soft humorless chuckle escaped his lips. It was just one more thing that he and his brother had in common. Their good looks had always drawn women to them, and some unique adventurous creatures welcomed being overwhelmed by their attentions in and out of bed. There was one widow in particular that he still recalled with a degree of fondness, even though she had cast him and Gideon aside for a duke.
“A man reserves such a look only for a woman.”
Thorn’s smile broadened as he recognized his cousin’s voice. Mathias Rooke, Marquess of Fairlamb, was two years younger, and Thorn remembered Lady Felstead occasionally lamenting when all of them were younger that he had not been a good influence on her twin boys. He turned around and realized Chance—as his cousin was called—was not alone. His beautiful wife, Tempest, and her younger sister, Lady Arabella, had accompanied him.
“Chance, this is a surprise,” Thorn said, briefly embracing his cousin and stepping back to greet everyone. “I did not expect to see you and your lovely marchioness until I arrived in London.”
Knowing it would annoy his cousin, he clasped the marchioness’s hand and pulled her into an affectionate embrace. He grinned unrepentantly over Tempest’s shoulder when Chance glowered at him.
“Release my wife, Kempthorn,” Chance said, placing his hands around his wife’s waist and separating her from his cousin. “If you want a lady to cuddle in your arms, seek out your own bride.”
Thorn winked at the twenty-year-old Lady Arabella, causing her to blush. To include her, he said, “And this is the gratitude I receive for helping him kidnap and elope with his lady.”
The blonde woman’s hazel eyes sparkled with amusement. “You and your friends did make dashing highwaymen.”
Chance’s courtship of Lady Tempest Brant had been conducted in secret. The marquess’s father, the Duke of Blackbern, and Lady Tempest’s father, the Marquess of Norgrave, had severed their close friendship when they were young men, and the animosity between the two gentlemen had divided the ton. For years, everyone had speculated on what had caused the two men to come to blows. Most assumed the duke’s wife was the reason for their bitter rivalry because she had married the Duke of Blackbern shortly after the two gentlemen had parted ways. However, the Rookes and the Brants were determined to keep their secrets, and for several decades the families kept their distance from each other until Chance met Lady Tempest.
The attraction between the couple had been immediate and all-consuming. Ignoring all advice, Chance had pursued her, and when her family had tried to separate them his cousin had asked Thorn and a few friends to kidnap the lady so the young lovers could marry. Neither the Rookes nor the Brants were happy about the marriage, and Lord Norgrave tried to trick Chance into annulling the marriage. It was possible the two families would never put aside their animosity for the sake of their children. However, his cousin and his wife were determined not to allow their families to ruin their happiness.
Thorn was surprised to see Lady Arabella in the company of her sister and her husband. Attending the Felstead fete was akin to consorting with the enemy. He had heard that Lord and Lady Norgrave had kept the younger sister away from Tempest in the initial months of her marriage to Chance.
“Unfortunately, my days as a highwayman were short-lived. I have vowed to be almost respectable this season,” he drily announced.
Chance, Tempest, and her sister laughed at his outrageous lie.
“I wager it is difficult vow to keep, with your brother’s return,” Chance said.
Thorn shrugged. In an attempt to change the subject, he looked to Tempest for help. “My dear cousin, have you had the opportunity to introduce your sister to the rest of the family?”
The marchioness’s hazel-colored eyes narrowed slightly as if she sensed his motive behind the innocent question. “Not everyone. Arabella was looking forward to meeting your brother.”
“Tempest!” the young woman hissed and glared, embarrassed that her sister had called attention to her curiosity.
The marchioness leaned closer. “Arabella cannot believe you have an identical twin. She has never met one before, you know.”
Slightly puzzled by her comment, Thorn asked, “A brother?”
He was acquainted with Tempest and Lady Arabella’s older brother, Oliver Brant, Earl of Marcroft. Since he was related to the Rookes, none of the encounters were particularly pleasant.
Lady Fairlamb giggled, and there was a guileless charm about her that he thought was admirable. Chance must have noted his silent appreciation, because he was frowning at him again.
“Don’t be a goose,” she teased. “My sister had never met identical twins. I’ve already warned her that it is impossible to tell the difference between you and Mr. Netherwood.”
Perhaps it was wicked of him, but he impulsively clasped Lady Arabella’s hand and raised it to his lips. “It will be up to you to discern our differences.”
“Thorn,” Chance growled in warning as his sister-in-law’s face turned a delightful pink hue.
“I-I look forward to it, Lord Kempthorn,” Lady Arabella stammered.
“Come along, Arabella,” Tempest said, giving him a measured look. “If our dear Thorn plies any more charm, you will need my silver vinaigrette.”
Thorn watched as the two ladies walked away. He glanced at Chance and noticed he was shaking his head.
“Norgrave will castrate you if he learns that you have flirted with Arabella.”
“You appear to have survived his wrath,” Thorn said, deliberately dropping his gaze to the front of his dark brown breeches. “Unless there is something you will to confess.”
“Thorn.”
“Should I extend my sympathies to your wife?” he said, lowering his voice with mocking sympathy. “The poor lady. She is too young to be married to a gentleman who has lost his—”
“Enough,” Chance growled, but his lips twitched as he tried not to laugh.
Thorn placed his arm around his cousin and led him past the music room and toward the stairs. “In the spirit of keeping these private matters in the family, perhaps I should offer my services to your lady.”
“Services?” Chance lowered his voice when a gentleman and his two female companions glanced in their direction. “Keep baiting me, and Norgrave will be the least of your concerns. I will geld you myself.”
His cousin used his palm to lightly clout him on the side of the head. Thorn laughed and released C
hance as they stood on the second-floor gallery and watched the activity below.
“About Arabella,” Chance began.
“You have nothing to fret about, my friend. My affection for Arabella is quite brotherly since she is a new member of our family,” Thorn said, though he silently conceded there was a time or two when his thoughts had not been so innocent. “Besides, you have enough problems with Norgrave. I would not wish to become one of them.”
The notion of having that scarred old blackguard for a father-in-law was enough to make a man contemplate celibacy.
His expression must have given Chance a hint to Thorn’s inner thoughts or perhaps his cousin knew him too well.
“I have no regrets,” the marquess softly confessed as he watched three children chasing each other down below.
Thorn turned his head and studied Chance’s profile. “Are you referring to your marriage to Tempest?” He braced his forearms on the rosewood balustrade.
His cousin nodded, gripping the wooden handrail. “It has been difficult for her, and I am not just speaking of Lord and Lady Norgrave.”
Chance did not elaborate on his cryptic comment, nor was any explanation required. Thorn’s mother was close to the Duchess of Blackbern. During his visits home, he had overhead snippets of conversations between his mother and father as they discussed family news. While the duke and duchess had publically accepted their son’s marriage to Tempest, in private there was tension between the two couples. The fact that the Duke and the Duchess of Blackbern were not attending the Felstead fete was quite revealing.
His parents loved Chance as if he were their own son. His mother and father were distressed by the strife within the family and had done their best to make certain Tempest had felt welcome.
“Your mother and father need more time,” Thorn advised. “Blackbern’s feud with Norgrave is older than you. They have accepted your marriage publicly. Take that olive branch and give them the time they need to make peace with the past.”
The low derisive snort was unexpected and very unlike the man who faced life with humor and courage. “Some things cannot be forgiven, Thorn.”
If Chance had learned more about what had caused the bitter feud between the Rookes and the Brants, he had decided not to share the details with his friends. He wondered what secrets his cousin had learned when he and Tempest had announced their marriage to the Rookes and the Brants.
“Who is with your brother?”
At first, Thorn thought Chance had mentioned Gideon to distract him from pressing him for answers the other man was obviously unwilling to give. He glanced down at the front hall below, and his gaze searched through the various groups of guests until he saw Miss Lydall. When had she left the drawing room? She must have slipped by him when he had been distracted by Chance, Tempest, and her sister.
Not that he was keeping his eye on her.
And if he had been following her movements, it was only out of concern for the chit. Lady Grisdale had dealt with Miss Lydall harshly, which seemed unfair since he and Gideon were to blame for their unplanned swim in the lake. His association with the countess was limited, but his impression of the lady was not favorable. His mother might have overruled the other woman’s decree to send Miss Lydall home like an errant child, but he predicted the woman had unfinished business with Lord Dewick’s daughter.
“I do not see him,” Thorn replied, sounding distracted as he watched Miss Lydall.
Chance stepped to the left and beckoned him to follow. “The view is better over here. I do not recognize the young lady.”
Thorn obliged his cousin by changing his view, and immediately realized he had solved the mystery of his brother’s companion.
“Do you see him?” At Thorn’s terse nod, Chance added, “The lady in the blue dress is unfamiliar to me, but from here it looks like Gideon is eager to get to know her.”
If they had been discussing anyone else, Thorn would have chuckled at Chance’s lewd observation. But realizing that Gideon was attempting to slip away with Miss Lydall again was a troubling development.
“He already knows her. You are acquainted with the lady as well.”
Chance lifted a brow at the news. “The devil you say. I thought I knew all of the pretty misses in the parish.”
“Not anymore,” Thorn replied. “Lest you forget, you are a married gent now.”
His cousin dismissed the teasing reminder with a wave of his hand. “I am not speaking in the biblical sense, you arse. I have spent enough summers at Malster Park that I am acquainted with most of your neighbors. Who is the chit your brother is flirting with?”
“Miss Lydall,” he replied, his eyes narrowing as Gideon murmured something in the lady’s ear to make her laugh. “She is Lord Dewick’s daughter.”
“Damn me, I cannot recall meeting her,” Chance said, leaning forward as if a few extra inches would make the difference.
“Last spring, you were too distracted pursuing your future bride to pay attention to other ladies,” he replied wryly, recalling what a lovesick fool his cousin had been and the times he had been a willing accomplice in the other man’s schemes. “Though you are likely to remember the slip of a girl who used to chase after us.”
Chance considered the small hint Thorn had given him for a minute. His blue-gray eyes widened in incredulity. “Good god, Miss Lydall is that grubby little ragamuffin who used climb trees and spit on us.” He stared at the lady flirting with Gideon and tried to reconcile her with the child who had intruded on their adventures. “Someone had come up with a nickname for her. What was it?”
Thorn tensed. “Olive,” he said finally.
“That was it. Olive. Oily Olive,” Chance replied cheerfully. “A positively dreadful nickname for a girl. Children can be so cruel.”
He glanced away from his cousin. “They can be. Do I need to remind you that Gideon was always protective of the chit, so it would be unwise of you to remind Miss Lydall of her unpleasant past?”
“Have you mistaken me for that brute, Marcroft?” Chance grimaced as his thoughts drifted to his brother-in-law. “I have no intention of doing anything other than procuring an introduction from your mother. Besides, Gideon used to be quite handy with his fists when provoked.”
“Still is,” Thorn said, his hand absently rubbing his jaw.
After years of separation, he and Gideon had displayed their affection for each other within the first hour of their reunion by pounding on each other until both of them were panting and bruised.
When Chance did not reply, Thorn turned his head and noticed the other man’s speculative look as he observed the flirtatious discourse between Gideon and Miss Lydall. “Do you think she is the one?”
Thorn’s eyebrows lifted at the question. “The reason why Gideon had the sudden urge to seek his fortune?” The muscles in his jaw tightened. He was reluctant to admit that he had asked himself the same question. “I do not know. Maybe. Gideon refused to discuss it with me.”
“Or any of us,” Chance said. “Rainbault, St. Lyon, and I all approached him before he departed London.”
Over the years, he had often wondered about the secrets his brother and Miss Lydall had shared. Thorn had sensed that the lady knew more about Gideon’s departure even though she had denied it when he had been angry enough to confront her. Nor had it not stopped him from resenting her.
He and Chance watched as Gideon seized Miss Lydall’s hand and tugged her toward the open door behind him. She shook her head, ignoring his playful cajoling, but his brother was determined to have his way. He circled around his quarry and placed his arm around her waist. The lady was still shaking her head and arguing with Gideon as he led her away.
“In those last days before his departure, your brother seemed embittered. It was a natural assumption to conclude that a lady was involved. His fights with you, and his damn secrecy had Rainbault and St. Lyon speculating that Gideon had fallen in love with another man’s wife,” Chance said. His brooding expressio
n revealed that Thorn was not the only one who had been hurt and baffled by Gideon’s decision. “If Miss Lydall was the reason for your brother’s rash behavior, it appears he has forgiven her.”
“It certainly appears so,” Thorn replied. “Though, there is a flaw in St. Lyon and Rainbault’s theory. Miss Lydall is unmarried and is not likely to be any man’s mistress.”
“Then perhaps your brother didn’t believe he was worthy of the lady’s esteem and sought to earn her heart?” his cousin suggested.
Was Gideon planning to seduce Miss Lydall? It was too disastrous to contemplate.
Thorn punched Chance in the arm and was pleased to see the other man wince.
“What the hell did I do?”
“Marriage has softened your head,” Thorn said, walking behind him as he headed for the stairs.
The task would require subtlety, but he intended to separate Gideon from Miss Lydall’s influence.
Chapter Five
“Gideon, where are we heading?” Olivia asked breathlessly as the he led her through a short maze of narrow passageways used by the Felstead servants. The walls were unadorned and the color of old parchment, but the well-trodden wooden floors smelled as if they had been recently scrubbed.
“Such impatience,” Gideon teased over his shoulder. “Have you grown too old for surprises?”
“Not at all. However, I believe I have gotten into enough trouble for one day, and I have you and your brother to thank for it.”
In truth, she was not particularly cross with either gentleman. It was not their fault Lady Grisdale was determined to see all of Olivia’s faults and none of her virtues.
“Has the countess been treating you poorly?” he asked, bringing them to the end of a corridor that had two doors. Gideon chose the one on the right.
“It depends on how you define poorly, I suppose,” she said, resigned that Gideon was not planning to spoil his surprise. “Lady Grisdale feels my father has been neglectful in my education.”
Gideon slowed and came to a halt. “That is a bit harsh. I seem to recall meeting several of your governesses.”
Waiting for an Earl Like You Page 4