There's Something About Lady Mary

by Sophie Barnes

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Alexandra said as she bit into a strawberry tart.

  “Have you managed to form any attachments yet, Mary?” Isabella then asked with much interest. “I suppose the whole London season is rather new to you, but as an eligible marchioness, I would imagine that the young gentlemen are quite eager for your attention.”

  Mary shook her head sadly. She had received enough flowers to open up her own shop, but what did that matter when the only man who interested her had sought her companionship with an ulterior motive in mind? “No,” she said. “But I am perfectly content with that, since I have very little desire to marry.”

  Isabella grinned. “I do believe that Alexandra was of the same opinion until she met my son. Is that not so?”

  Looking a little startled as all eyes turned to her, Alexandra just nodded. “It is indeed,” she told the duchess, then shrugged a little. “In fact, the thought of falling so deeply in love terrified me. It was my father who made me realize how empty my life would be without love in it, and when the right man came along. . .well, what can I say? I had a change of heart, I suppose.”

  “But when I came across you and Mr. Summersby in the park the other day, you looked to be quite taken with him—and he with you,” Cassandra said as she looked across at Mary.

  Mary took a deep breath. This was really a topic that she’d much rather avoid, but now that all eyes in the room were on her, she would have to address the issue. “In a way you are quite correct, Cassandra. It is true that I have enjoyed Mr. Summersby’s company on more than one occasion. However, we do have our differences, and, unfortunately, I have come to believe that it will be rather difficult, if not impossible, for us to overcome them.”

  “Well,” Isabella remarked with a twinkle in her eyes, “sometimes it can be a great deal of fun overcoming such differences.”

  “Mama!” Cassandra exclaimed, jerking around so suddenly that half of her tea landed in her lap.

  “Oh come now, my dear, we are all grown women here. Besides, judging from the sudden color in Mary’s cheeks, I daresay that she agrees with me.” Isabella handed her clumsy daughter a napkin.

  Mary dropped her gaze to the floor. How mortifying that a woman as refined as the duchess would have picked up on her true feelings. For no matter how disappointed she was at discovering that Mr. Summersby did not share her sentiments, she simply couldn’t stop thinking about him and hoping that she’d somehow misjudged him.

  “Whatever the case,” Alexandra said, “it does appear as though our dear Mary has already gotten herself an archenemy.”

  “And who might that be?” Isabella asked with a sudden frown.

  “Oh, it must be Lady Stephanie,” Cassandra said. “Everyone knows that she’s been pining for Mr. Summersby for the longest time.”

  “Well, you are correct in your assumption, Cass,” Alexandra told her. “We had the misfortune of running into her only yesterday. She practically gave poor Mary the cut direct.”

  “Is that so?” Isabella ground out. She was clearly quite vexed by Lady Stephanie’s audacity. “I am sorry that you had to experience such a rude encounter, Mary. There is no question that Lady Stephanie could do with some discipline. She has not only developed a rather distasteful character, she is also far too spoiled.”

  “Well, as far as I am concerned,” Mary said, “she can have Mr. Summersby all to herself. He is not the one for me.”

  “Oh, you mustn’t say that!” Alexandra cried in horror. “I would surely die if she were to be my new sister-in-law. I would so much rather have you.”

  “Well, although I am not altogether sure that I like the idea of having such a responsibility placed upon my shoulders, I must admit that am quite flattered,” Mary said, her cheeks already dimpling with the beginnings of a playful smile. “But, as I have already said, that is neither here nor there since I do not plan on becoming his wife.”

  “You will not even give him another chance?” Alexandra asked with a note of desperation.

  Mary considered that for a moment. It was difficult to ignore the imploring look in Alexandra’s eyes, especially after she’d been so kind to her. And Mr. Summersby was her brother, after all. “Very well, I will perhaps consider giving him one more chance,” Mary said. Alexandra immediately clapped her hands together with excitement. “But before you get too carried away, I have to tell you that I cannot promise anything.”

  “Oh, how fabulous,” Cassandra said. “We are soon to have another society wedding.”

  Mary groaned. “Have you not listened to a single word I have said? I just told you that—”

  Cassandra dismissed her with a flick of her wrist. “You are welcome to say whatever you like, Mary. I know what I saw with my very own eyes. And I must say that it didn’t take much imagination to envision little hearts and cherubs floating about both of your heads.”

  Well, what could she possibly say to that? Not a great deal, unless she wished to embarrass herself even further. Instead, she merely sat there quietly, sipping her tea, all the while praying that Mr. Summersby had noticed no such thing.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  * * *

  “Where the devil can she be?”

  “Who?” Bryce asked, regarding his younger son through hooded eyes while he puffed on his cigar.

  “Lady Steepleton, of course. Who else?” Ryan looked about the crowded ballroom. Well, it certainly appeared as though the Glendales were having quite the squeeze. Ryan turned to his father. “Every time I went to call on her for the past few days, I was told that she had gone out, which leads me to believe that either she is avoiding me or she has simply left town.”

  “You seem very wound up about it,” Bryce remarked with a slight smirk.

  “Of course I am,” Ryan snapped. “Percy specifically asked that I keep an eye on her, yet for the past three days I have not seen as much as her shadow. It is really quite disgraceful on my part, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Bryce grinned. “I am sure that you will find her soon enough, my boy. And I am willing to bet that when you do, you will see that she is perfectly fine.”

  “How can you possibly be so sure?” Ryan craned his neck in hopes of getting a better view.

  “Because I do believe it must be she who is coming our way right now, together with your sister.”

  Ryan turned to look in the same direction as his father. He didn’t see them at first because of the dense crowd, but when his eyes finally found Lady Steepleton’s, his mouth fell open in utter amazement. She looked spectacular. Her hair had been fashioned into a mass of curls, all neatly arranged at the back of her head, with a few loose strands gracefully framing her face. And her gown. . .Ryan could scarcely breathe as he watched her approach. Her gown showed off a figure that every woman within a thousand-mile radius would surely envy. The combination of the light blue silk, beneath the cream-colored lace, and a deep blue silk ribbon tied beneath her breasts had an effect that was both elegant and alluring all at the same time. In fact, Ryan couldn’t help but notice that all the male heads turned to stare at her as she passed. His stomach tightened at the thought of any other man favoring her with his attention and immediately stepped forward to claim her before somebody else decided to do so. “Good evening, Lady Steepleton.” He offered her a slight bow before turning to his sister. “Alexandra, it is good to see you again.”

  “Thank you, Ryan,” Alexandra replied as she took him by his right arm, placing him between herself and the marchioness.

  Ryan offered Lady Steepleton his other arm. “May I say that you look absolutely ravishing this evening. That gown is most becoming on you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Summersby,” Mary said as she began to fan herself in hopes of concealing the blush that she now felt spreading its way over her entire body. She’d never been so self-conscious of her appearance before in her life. Regardless of having left off on bad terms the last time they’d spoken, she’d still been hoping to make an impression on him this e
vening. No matter what she kept telling everyone, including herself, the truth of the matter was that she quite enjoyed his attention.

  Well, it seemed as though she’d achieved her goal, and the way that made her feel left much to be considered. She still felt her legs turn to goo whenever he looked at her, and her stomach fluttered uncontrollably whenever he touched her in the slightest way. Still, she couldn’t let herself forget that his only interest in her had been in regards to his assignment, in spite of the fact that she’d recently promised Alexandra that she’d give him another chance. But at least she’d managed to show him that she wasn’t as plain as he and the rest of the ton had initially thought. She felt triumphant now as he guided her toward an older gentleman whom she’d never seen before.

  “Lady Steepleton,” Mr. Summersby announced with much flair, “I would like to present you to my father, the Earl of Moorland.”

  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last,” Lord Moorland remarked as he took Mary’s hand in his, bent over it, and placed a kiss upon her knuckles. “My son has told me so much about you. In fact, I fail to believe that he has ever admired anyone more—except perhaps for me,” he said, grinning, as he gave Mary a good-humored wink.

  Mary looked at Mr. Summersby who appeared to be turning a bright shade of red. He gave her a loopy grin. “Well, she certainly has many commendable qualities,” he said.

  “You are too kind,” Mary replied, wondering if he would still hold her in as high a regard once he discovered that she was his superior, not only in title, but professionally as well. Would he even be willing to accept such a thing? Whatever the case might be, it seemed as though she may have misjudged his intentions. If it was true that he admired her as much as his father claimed, then perhaps his reason for courting her hadn’t been entirely based on his obligations toward Sir Percy.

  “Perhaps I can persuade you to dance the next dance with me,” Mr. Summersby suggested her in a voice so full of hope that Mary’s heart swelled for him.

  “I don’t. . .” she began to say, fear setting in at the thought of the entire ton watching her dance, when in fact, the only time she’d ever danced before was on the terrace of Richmond House one week ago. And that had certainly not gone as well as she would have hoped. But she stopped herself at the pained expression that had come over Mr. Summersby’s face. “I would be delighted to,” she said, then leaned toward him and lowered her voice to a whisper. “But you will have to help me, for I don’t know a single step.”

  “Well,” Lord Moorland said, grinning, “you certainly are a brave girl,, willing to make a spectacle of yourself before the entire peerage, and for the sake of a simple dance. I can see why you like her, Ryan.”

  “You mustn’t worry yourself overly much, Mary,” Alexandra said, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Ryan is a wonderful dancer, and if I am not mistaken, then this next one will be a waltz. Just hold on tight and let him guide you.”

  “Shall we?” Mr. Summersby asked, offering Mary his arm before she could conjure up that proverbial hole in the ground that she hoped might swallow her up at any given moment. Instead, she straightened her spine, smiled back at him, and allowed him to guide her toward the dance floor.

  Mary felt as if she were flying. They were moving so much faster than when they’d danced before on the terrace at Richmond House. Thankfully, her feet had obeyed her this time, and she’d managed to avoid embarrassing herself or Mr. Summersby. Had they been alone, she would have squealed with delight for all the fun she was having. Instead, she simply enjoyed the feel of Mr. Summersby’s hands holding her firmly in his arms as he guided her about the dance floor. She felt safe and oddly relaxed. In fact, aside from her career, nothing had ever felt more right than being together with him at that very moment. It both surprised her and terrified her all at once, especially since she very much doubted that the two would ever be able to coexist.

  “What are you thinking?” Mr. Summersby asked as he tightened his hold on her waist and led her about in a wide circle. “You look quite serious.”

  She sought his eyes and stared back into them, startled once again by their blueness. “I am merely trying to concentrate,” she told him with a slight frown. “I should hate to trip and fall in the middle of the ballroom.”

  He grinned. “That is very unlikely to happen, my lady, for I have quite a solid hold on you, and I have no intention of letting you go. Besides, as I have told you before, you dance rather well, particularly given the fact that this is only your second attempt at it.”

  “Well, you’re not so bad yourself,” Mary told him with a hint of mischief in her words.

  “What a relief,” he replied. “I should hate to think that all those hours spent with that infuriating instructor of mine had gone to waste.”

  When the music faded, Mr. Summersby leaned forward to whisper in Mary’s ear, “I need to speak with you in private.” His voice was urgent.

  “I’m not entirely sure that that is wise,” Mary replied with an impish grin. “The last time you wished to speak with me in private, you showed a remarkable lack of restraint.”

  “Perhaps I may remind you that you did no better.”

  “Quite so,” Mary conceded. “And that is precisely why I am a trifle worried about being alone with you once again.”

  “In that case, I promise that I shall do my very best to behave,” he teased as he began leading her toward a pair of closed mirrored doors at the far end of the ballroom. “But this is a matter of great importance. It really cannot wait.”

  Opening one of the doors just enough for them to slip through, Mr. Summersby guided Mary into the room beyond, closing the door quickly behind them so as not to draw attention. Turning to face him, Mary’s eyes met his, and she instantly knew that her concerns had not been unfounded. He was watching her in precisely the same manner as he’d done in the carriage: a scalding and possessive gaze that made her heart race and her skin tingle. If she didn’t know any better, he was presently contemplating lowering her onto one of the sofa’s the room had to offer and. . .

  “Lady Steepleton,” he said, startling her. Good heavens, whatever had she been thinking? “I’m sorry about the way we parted the last time we spoke. I realize that you were hurt and angry by what I told you, but you must believe me when I say that I do consider you to be the most remarkable woman I have ever known.

  “I want you to understand that I didn’t offer to marry you out of obligation alone. I realize how absurd this sounds...” He took a deep breath as if to steady himself, while Mary watched with keen interest. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one feeling out of sorts—a pleasing discovery, indeed. “I spoke with my father. You may not be aware of this, but he’s a close friend of Wellington’s and has several other important connections within the military.”

  Mary raised an eyebrow, curious as to why it might matter to her whom Lord Moorland’s friends might be. Reaching out, Mr. Summersby took her hand in his. “For a while now I have had a nagging suspicion. I asked my father to make a few inquiries and discovered that I may have been correct in my assumption. Lady Steepleton, it seems as though your father’s death was no accident. The evidence that I’ve managed to piece together strongly suggests that he was murdered.”

  Mary stood as if nailed to the floor. She couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, couldn’t speak. But her lips did form a very distinct “no.” This wasn’t possible. She’d seen him when they’d brought him in from the field on a stretcher. He’d been tending to a wounded soldier and had been caught directly in the line of fire—a shot straight to his head. It didn’t make any sense.

  “I realize how alarming this must be for you, but from what I gather, another physician who was present at the time, and who examined your father, made a note of his neck having been broken. The shot he sustained was likely delivered at a later time, for the sake of authenticity.”

  “Good God!” Mary exclaimed, burying her face in her hands. “I never knew. There
was so much chaos, and seeing Papa like that. . .I left as fast as my feet could carry me. I knew that it was wrong of me and that I should have stayed, but I just couldn’t do it. All my life he’s loved me and cared for me, and I couldn’t even stay and see to it that he was properly buried.” She felt her throat close and her heart ache as her eyes began to burn. She didn’t want Mr. Summersby to see her like that, but it was too late, and as she drew a shaky breath, she found herself pulled toward him until his arms were around her in a tight embrace.

  “You were in shock,” he whispered against the top of her head. “You mustn’t blame yourself, my lady. As it is, I can’t imagine what your father was thinking, taking you along with him to war. Even if you were at a safe distance from the battlefield, bringing a young woman like yourself, surrounded by so many soldiers and so much carnage, not only is unseemly, but it must have been very traumatic.”

  Mary pushed herself away from him, accepting the handkerchief that he offered with a wobbly smile. The tears stung, but she wiped them away with a brisk hand. “Who would do such a thing?” she asked, hoping to address the more important issue at hand, yet knowing that she was using it as an excuse to divert the conversation away from herself. “It seems they went to a lot of trouble.”

  “Yes, it appears that whoever planned this followed you and your father to Waterloo with the intention of using the battle as a means by which to cover up his murder.” Mr. Summersby paused. “I hope you understand the significance of this. You mustn’t go anywhere alone. You have already been threatened, and if the person behind this was willing to kill your father, then he won’t hesitate to kill you as well. Promise me that you will be careful.”

  Mary nodded in disbelief. Could it possibly be that her father, the man who’d bounced her on his knee when she was a child, had pursued something of so great importance that it had cost him his life? She was suddenly having a very difficult time connecting the man she’d known and loved with this apparent stranger who, it seemed, had kept nothing but secrets from her.